Secrets Dispatched

by Raven McAllan

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Secrets Dispatched

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-449-2

  ©Copyright Raven McAllan 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2015

  Edited by Jennifer Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  Diomhair

  SECRETS DISPATCHED

  Raven McAllan

  Book four in the Diomhair series

  What’s a girl to do when she finds herself stranded in a snow storm in a BDSM club in a castle, with a Dom she’s lusted after for years?

  At some time in their life, everyone has choices to make.

  For Shane, it could be a chance to rediscover her love of kink.

  For Ross, it’s the chance to tempt her to be his kitten.

  But Shane has to settle some demons before she can move forward.

  Until then, well a little playing wouldn’t matter—would it?

  However, play can become serious, and decisions have to be made that could change both their lives forever.

  This is their chance to be together as Dom and sub or wave goodbye. But at Diomhair, nothing is as straightforward as you hope, and Ross and Shane have a lot to do, before they can say yes—or no.

  Dedication

  To Jenny. Thank you for all your hard work.

  To everyone who reads my books, thank you for your support.

  And as ever, to Paul.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Kindle: Amazon Technologies, Inc.

  Jo Malone: Jo Malone, Inc.

  Firewire: Firewire Surfboards LLC

  Chapter One

  The flight was long and the woman in the next seat a pain in the arse. Shane thanked every god she’d heard of—and made a mental note that if there was any she hadn’t heard of she’d thank them as well—that she was in an aisle seat and had her noise blocking headphones on instead of the ones the airline had given her.

  Even though she’d sprung for business class—and in effect she had her own personal space—the woman was a walking, talking annoyance, and much too close. Every time Shane put up the privacy screen—surely an indication that she didn’t want to be sociable—the woman pushed it down again and began to make inane comments. She even burbled on about Shane’s top and how she would go to the same shop to buy one. As it was a plain white tee, Shane decided the woman talked about any old thing because she was lonely or scared.

  For a brief second she did feel a pang of sympathy. Terror was a horrible thing to experience alone. Then the woman asked for a double gin and knocked it back in one go, and Shane’s sympathy disappeared as fast as the gin. She remembered she’d noticed her in the lounge, drinking glass after glass of the champagne on offer like a lush in a desert. This had happened both back in Australia and when they’d transferred planes in Hong Kong. Shane heard her tell anyone who would listen she hated to fly.

  That wasn’t something that bothered Shane. She loved it.

  “Would you like a drink, madam?” The cabin crew member smiled at Shane as she offered a selection of beverages.

  “Gin and tonic please,” the woman in the next seat said, interrupting the girl rather rudely, Shane thought. It seemed the crew member thought the same.

  “One moment, madam, I’ll get to you when I’ve served this lady.” She turned back to Shane and briefly raised her eyebrows.

  “Water, please, I hate being dehydrated, and too much alcohol does that to me.”

  The other passenger snorted. “Helps me sleep.”

  Oh if only. Shane took her water and sat back in her seat again. The other passenger took her gin and tonic and looked over at Shane.

  “You’re only young once, love. Enjoy yourself.”

  “I do, thank you.” Shane did her best to be civil, but also show she wasn’t interested in chatting. It didn’t work. In the end, after several more exchanges of banalities, Shane did something she’d never thought herself capable of. Total rudeness. She shoved the opaque screen upward and heard it click. Then she said good night very firmly and ignored the injured hiss from the other side. It was that or find a policeman waiting to arrest her as she disembarked, on the charge of causing a disturbance on an aircraft.

  That would make my brothers think they were right to worry. I’d never get out without a chaperone ever again.

  The drone of the engines should have been enough of a constant background noise to lull Shane to sleep. Usually she was one of those people her mum said could sleep standing up and she never had problems dropping off, even after that time. Except now. Maybe it was the thought of what she needed to do, but as she stretched out on her flat bed and tucked the airline blanket around her, Shane couldn’t even doze. Her mind jumped from one thought to another like a fly dodging a swatter, and she almost sat up, flicked down the privacy shield and demanded the woman on the other side annoy her once more.

  That thought was enough to make her punch the tiny pillow into a heap, wish it was a certain, luckily now deceased man’s face, roll onto her side and fall into an uneasy sleep. Her dreams were elusive and she woke up a couple of hours later with gritty eyes and feeling like she’d not slept for a week. Which, she thought with hindsight, wasn’t far wrong. It was one thing knowing she needed to go to Scotland and find out for herself how someone was faring, another to actually persuade her brothers she knew what she was doing. Especially as she wasn’t really sure she did. Her brothers were more than loving watch dogs. They cared for her. It was only the knowledge of just how much they cared and how they had put their lives on the line on her behalf that kept her from railing against their constant attention.

  No wonder she hadn’t told them about her trip until it was all booked and paid for. Even then they’d argued
the toss and demanded she take one of them with her. It was only when she told them it was something she had to do for herself, to lay the demons to rest and move on that they’d agreed. Albeit with the proviso she keep in touch with one of them at every stage of her journey.

  My phone bill is going to be astronomical. Ah well, it should be worth it. I hope.

  The fasten seatbelt sign flashed on and off like a demented flea, and the huge aircraft dropped and swayed as it hit turbulence. Never one for enjoying the fairground rides that bounced you up and down, Shane gave up any thought of sleeping and reached for her bottle of water. Why on earth had she chosen February for her trip? Hot as Hades at home and cold as the arctic in Scotland, if the weather forecasts were to be believed. However once she’d been sure where her quarry was and she had enough money to see her comfortably through her trip, Shane hadn’t wanted to wait.

  So here she was, however many thousands of feet in the air and wondering how the hell her visit would end. She put her headphones back on again and turned on one of the allegedly soothing music channels. Mind numbing and bland.

  It could have been a minute or an hour before the seat belt sign flashed off again. Shane had no idea. She’d been so lost in her worst case scenario thoughts and about to scream ‘turn around, I’ve changed my mind’. What if the woman wouldn’t speak to her? What if she wanted to sue her brothers or something? Okay, they had actually helped the woman, but who knew how the whole sorry state of affairs had affected her.

  I must stop thinking of her as just her. Jess. Jess Sutherland—the woman who her ex-boyfriend had abused after she, Shane, had escaped his clutches. The woman her brothers had found bound and blindfold and subsequently rescued, whilst arranging for the demise of the arsehole they’d both trusted. The woman who’d left Australia and got away from all the furor, whilst Shane had had to brazen it out.

  That had been fun—not. Thank heavens for brothers.

  She wondered what the woman was really like. She’d seen a very blurry photo on one of the popular social media sites and reckoned she looked sane and sensible and not one to be taken in by a dickhead. But then she’d thought that about herself as well, hadn’t she? Pete had taken both of them in. Made them think he was a sane and respected member of the community, albeit with a good dose of kink. Anyone with even the minimal knowledge of the BDSM community would have seen straight through him. Sadly, the only insight Shane had was a few fumbling—and gentle—blindfold and bondage sessions, her own imagination and some hot and sexy books. She’d been a lamb to the slaughter.

  The kink hadn’t bothered Shane. Truth be told, she rather enjoyed the sweet sting of pain that then morphed into pleasure. Her brothers had accidently introduced her to the lifestyle. She’d seen one of them with a girlfriend bound and blindfolded, his cock in her mouth, and her other brother arse deep in the woman and had had to give herself a large dose of self help afterwards. Later it had occurred to her to wonder why it hadn’t either repelled her or scared her to death. Even then she’d know that given the chance, it would be for her.

  A few days later, she’d come across one of them wielding a crop on the arse of the same woman, and the other attaching nipple clamps to the woman’s pendulous breasts. Instead of being disgusted, she’d known straight away she was interested.

  Shane squirmed in her seat. Stop it now. You’ve hours to go ‘til you get off the plane, and self help in the loo is not the thing to do. Or in the seat for that matter. However, try as she might, she couldn’t help reliving the past in her mind.

  When she’d met Pete, Shane had thought she’d found her perfect Sir. Right until that last time when he’d changed into a sadistic, unpleasant and definitely un-Dom-like monster. He’d ignored safe words and all things consensual and had left Shane tied up and blindfold for hours while he jerked off to her pleas to be let free. Until then, she’d wanted to learn more.

  For a while she’d closed off her true self, until she was able to believe he was no Dom, just a wannabe and an abuser, and she understood and accepted a true BDSM relationship would be nothing like that. However, over the years she’d lost interest, because there was no one she wanted to please in that way.

  Mind you, there had been one guy who she could have subbed for, but as a friend of her brothers and ten years older than her, he hadn’t shown any interest in Shane. She didn’t even know if he was interested in kink like her brothers, but to Shane’s admittedly limited knowledge, he sure looked every inch the Dom. He’d made her pussy wet every time he’d looked at her, even when it was in irritation.

  Shane got up and went to the galley for a glass of juice and a chocolate bar. She glanced at her watch—which she’d changed to UK time—and realized they’d be landing in Heathrow in a few hours. Then after the shuttle to Glasgow, she’d need to plot just what she was going to do next. A few hours well spent on the Internet had given her an address for the unknown Jess—a castle no less. And if her research was correct, one that housed a private BDSM club. It seemed a strange address for someone who’d been abused so badly, but then maybe she was over everything and had rejoined the lifestyle? Whatever. Shane knew she needed to find out for herself. It would be her own completion, one way or another.

  Once she’d discovered exactly where the unknown Jess and the castle were, Shane had hired a car and arranged for hotel accommodation not far away. Now she was so close, she didn’t want to chicken out.

  * * * *

  In the end it was surprisingly easy to find where she needed to go. The guy at the car hire had supplied her with a weirdly shaped but surprisingly comfortable and easy to drive car, and assured her it had an integrated sat-nav, which was child’s play to program. She wouldn’t say that exactly, but by three-thirty she was driving out of the airport on a gloomy and chilly afternoon and along a winding road to her destination. With the heater on high—after all, she’d left thirty-five degrees sun the day before—and the radio blasting out old sixties songs, Shane was almost happy. As long as she ignored the butterflies in her tummy, and the ever present thought of what if I’m screwing up?

  ‘At the next junction, turn left.’ Sally the sat-nav lady was all bright cheeriness, even when Shane had gone wrong and the tinny, upbeat voice had said ‘Ooops, better turn around now’. This time Shane did as she was bade and ten minutes later, found herself ensconced in a roomy suite in a boutique hotel, which had stunning reviews for its ambience and food. It was a large, old stone house, overlooking a loch and a mountain and she reckoned the rhododendron-edged drive had been the best part of a mile long. In the summer it would look superb, at this time of the year it just looked gothic and gloomy.

  Mist was rolling down the mountain, the loch looked cold and menacing and the sky was dark and heavy. No doubt it was beautiful in the sunshine, but at that moment it showed about as much welcome as you would give to a man in a ladies rest room.

  “Snow forecast the morn’s morn.” The dour old man who’d brought her luggage up on an elaborate trolley essayed a smile, which showed a gap where his front teeth should be. “It’s a big bugger, so they say.”

  Shane nodded as her heartbeat sped up. She’d better get a move on then. She rummaged in her bag to take out an unfamiliar note and handed him a tip. Evidently it was acceptable because he smiled and doffed his tatty tweed cap.

  “Thank you, lass. I’ve to say it’s sorry we are for it being me to do this. Lachie, the doorman, is away to the dentist, and he’ll be back later.” He ambled out of the room. Shane grinned at his quaint phraseology and glanced out of the window.

  The weather did look threatening. The color of the sky was a strange gunmetal gray and the clouds low. In the gathering dusk it brought up ideas of strange creatures and ghosts, ghouls and things that went bump in the night.

  Stop it now. Shane gave herself a mental shake and poo-pooed her fanciful ideas. After all, it wasn’t even Halloween, so she had no excuses for paranormal thoughts. It was around sunset on a late winter’s night. Not
that there was any sun.

  The old man had said snow in the morn’s morn. Surely that meant the day after tomorrow? Time therefore to get over her jet lag before she did what she’d come to do. A meal, a bath then an early night with a book and a wee dram, as she’d learned to call a tot of whiskey, sounded perfect.

  It was.

  Three hours later, at a ridiculously early hour, Shane snuggled under the softest, warmest, duvet she’d ever encountered and switched on her Kindle. This latest BDSM love story was what wet dreams were made of. To say nothing of a juice coated pussy and damp thighs. Plus a need to make herself come. She glanced at her bullet she’d put conveniently on the bedside table and began to read.

  The insistent ringing made her jump. That wasn’t in the story, surely?

  Shane opened her eyes to see weak sunlight edging around the curtains, and the digital display on the bottom of the television saying ten-thirty a.m. She’d slept the clock round and more. She fumbled for the phone and picked up the receiver. Who on earth was it? She’d rung her brothers before she’d fallen asleep and wasn’t due to ring them again until that evening.

  Well, ask who it is. She didn’t get a chance. As soon as she said hello, someone burst into speech.

  “Missy, are you wanting breakfast? Service stops at eleven. If you’ve got that jet lag, you’ll be needing food.” It was the dentist-going Lachie, who she’d met the evening before, and who, he’d informed her, also worked the desk and the phone. The hotel was small and the staff all multi-tasked when necessary.

  “Oh sh—shoot. Please. I’ll be down in ten.” Shane scrambled out of bed and had the quickest shower on record, before she dressed and dashed downstairs to beat the deadline by just over five minutes. As she thought, the dining room was empty of guests, but a cheery waitress showed no signs of annoyance at a tardy diner. It wasn’t long before Shane tucked into a full Scottish breakfast, right down to black pudding and haggis, and washed it down with strong black coffee. She sat back and looked at her empty plate. If she carried on eating that amount every day, she’d need two seats when she flew home.