Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
For some reason, her answer surprises me. I half expected the women of the Clan to be housewives or something.
“Tully?” I ask quietly, when Lachlan and Fiona go down the stairs before us.
“Mm?”
“Do the women of the Clan work, then?”
He grins. “Some do, and some stay home with the little ones. Maeve and Caitlin are the ones who like to stay, but Aileen’s got a job performing in the town centre of an evening, Nolan’s Sheena’s a reporter, Megan’s a nurse. You know Faidha as well.”
Well, then.
I mull this over as we walk down the carpeted stairs and he leads me to the dining room. My stomach churns with hunger at the smell of bacon, eggs, and freshly-baked scones. When was the last time I ate? I feel a rush of heat on my cheeks as I recall our late-night snack after Tully and I sated our need for each other.
“Tuck in, lass,” Tully says, handing me a plate at the head of the buffet line before heaping food onto a plate for himself.
I stare in wonder at the assortment of food before me. Steaming, plump sausages, crispy bacon, fried eggs with broiled tomatoes alongside large platters of golden, crumbly pastries and churns of sweet, creamy butter. Pitchers of cream sit beside teacups, and staff wanders around filling cups with steaming tea or coffee.
“This is amazing,” I whisper to Tully. “A girl could fatten up here, couldn’t she?”
He gives me a raucous wink. “Go ahead, lass, fill ‘er up. I’ll help you work it off, won’t I?” He gives me a little peck on the cheek, and I feel my face flush with embarrassment. Did anyone hear? But he’s already walked ahead to find us a seat at the table, and certainly no one seems the wiser.
With a little smile, I grin at his back and plop another scone onto my plate.
* * *
Chapter 9
Tully
Nearly all the men of the Clan at one point or another have spent time at St. Albert’s. When I was a young lad, they were only just opening their doors. Malachy, now the headmaster, was assistant principal, and the expert instructor in the Irish martial arts. I learned everything I know from him, and most of us consider him a bit of a father figure.
“Hello there, Tully,” he says, his hands shoved into his pockets, standing on the front step of the school as we exit the car and head up the stone steps. We’ve arrived before the boys, for the teachers need to set things up for the day, but it’s an unusually warm autumn day, so the doors to the school are open.
“Malachy,” I say with a smile. “I’m pseudo-teacher for the day, looks like?”
“Welcome, Tully,” he says with a smile. “You’ve cleaned up some, haven’t you?” He gives me a playful fake jab, and I easily deflect and hold up my hands in surrender.
“Don’t ask me to take on my sensei,” I tell him with a laugh. I lower my voice. “Don’t make me kick the headmaster’s arse.”
He bellows out a laugh and holds his hand up in surrender.
“Oh, aye, Tiernan’s taught me that lesson, hasn’t he?”
Tiernan, one of the youngest members of the Clan, is our prized fighter and a teacher at St. Albert’s, experienced the Irish martial arts. Highly respected among both students and staff, Tiernan’s one of the best fighters Ireland’s ever known.
“I bet he has,” I say with a chuckle, as McKenna comes up behind me.
“Seems you won’t be needing further bodyguards today, hmm?” Malachy teases, and she blushes pink.
“Suppose not.” When she grins, she’s got the most adorable little dimple in her cheek.
The bell rings, and we go off to class. Honestly, if I wasn’t here with McKenna, I’d rather do literally anything else than go back in the classroom. Book learning was never my thing, and though I’ve a solid education from St. Albert’s, I feel I’ve learned more under Keenan and his late father Seamus’s tutelage than anyone else.
I feel eyes on both of us as we walk toward her class. The first bell signals there’s fifteen more minutes before the students will assemble, but I can already feel their eyes on me.
She shakes her head when I take her hand. “Now, Tully,” she says in a low voice. “You’re here as Clan bodyguard, which is already calling enough attention to us.” She gives me what she probably thinks is a stern look. But I’m not one of her students. “You are not my boyfriend here.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are not!”
“Oh, but I am.”
She groans. “Tullyyyy.”
I give her a discreet pinch to the arse as we head into the classroom, which makes her squeal and flush even harder. I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Now, are you my girl, or I do need to pull you into that cloakroom and remind you who you belong to?”