Chapter 20LachlanShe melts beneath me, this time so eager for me it’s all I can do to contain myself as I kiss her, hold her, and finally when we’re both panting and she’s practically begging to have me in her. I hold her wrists between my fingers.
“You’re mine,” I breathe, as I slide my swollen cock into her hot, tight body. “You’re mine, Fiona.”
“Of course I am,” she says, grinning and panting, her mouth parting when I thrust in her again. “I have been since the day we met.”
She closes her eyes and her mouth parts, her body arches into mine.
“You couldn’t claim me, then, Lachlan,” she whispers, gently shoving against me as I rock my hips, swallowed fully in her. “But it was then that I gave you my heart.” She gasps, and I kiss her cheek. I love listening to her heartfelt confessions while we make sweet love. “I knew then...somehow, I knew. There would never be another man for me.”
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, with another hard thrust. “I love you.” I kiss the apple of her cheek and she begins to climax, my own ecstasy rolling through me. “You were worth waiting for.”
She falls asleep, but I lie awake beside her in the aftermath of our lovemaking. She’s curled up next to me, her head on my chest.
There’s much on my mind, not the least of which is the prisoner we’ve captured, held in the interrogation room on the bottom floor of the mansion.
It was a bomb, Keenan said. Carson saw someone running after the bomb went off. Nolan and Cormac have him in custody.
But even as I hold her, I know, someone responsible for hurting her is in the very walls of this fortress.
She wakes with a start and sits in bed with her eyes wide.
“I know,” she says, turning to look at me as if surprised.
I give her a quizzical look, still half asleep myself, and raise up on one elbow. “What are you talking about, lass?”
Her hands flail in the air as she tries to explain, always talking with her hands when excited. “I know, my God, I know now.” She throws off the covers and paces the room. “The guard, Lach. It was the guard. You all thought the guard was attacked by the men in Boston, didn’t you?” She mutters to herself, shaking her head. “You all trusted the guard. I mean, of course you would, Keenan vets all of them, doesn’t he?”
I sit up and draw in a deep breath.
“Fiona. Slow down, lass. You’re not making any sense.”
She nods, still talking to herself. “The day of my birthday,” she begins. “Tiernan was here. He was pretending to be the guard at the gate, wasn’t he?”
I nod. “Aye.”
“He had on his uniform, I saw it. Just the standard guard uniform, Lachlan. And there was a crest on the sleeve, I figured you guys had new uniforms or something. Didn’t even think twice. And it was the same crest Matt had in Boston.”
I furrow my brow. “Matt?”
She nods excitedly. “Yes, Matt. The same name of the guy I hung out with my first night in Boston. Remember I told you, he asked me all sorts of questions about my home and where I came from? He wanted to be sure he had my identity.”
I listen warily.
“Think, Lachlan. Did you find the bodies of my guard? Did you?”
I think back to what Keenan said. “Mutilated beyond recognition.” I pick up my phone and dial Keenan.
He answers on the first ring, sounding tired and weary.
“Keenan, when you found the guard that was supposed to be with Fiona — did you identify their bodies?”
“No.”
“How did you know it was them, then?”
He curses under his breath. “Suppose I didn’t. I sent our Ballyhock guard to accompany her on the plane to Boston, but they came straight back. Tiernan’s crew arranged guard for her in Boston.”
“We need to call Tiernan,” Fiona says excitedly. “But God, Lachlan, do you know what this means?”
I hold my palm up to her. “Slow down, lass. Slow down. Let me call Tiernan.”
Tiernan answers on the first ring. I put him on speaker.
“Tiernan. Lachlan here. Sitting with your sister.”
“You two alright?”
“We’re fine,” Fiona says, eager to talk to him. “Tiernan, do you remember the day of my party?” I watch her speak with wide, excited eyes, her hands flailing around her like sailboats. My pretty, brilliant little brat.
“Aye,” he says. “Remember it well.”
“Where did you get the coat?”
“What?”
“The uniform you wore. It was different, and it just came to me all at once, like my subconscious was working it out or something.”
“Just found it in the booth,” he said. “Put it on. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “But we need to do some investigating. Has anything happened over there involving the McCarthy Clan since we left Boston?”