Page 27 of A Wager with the Matchmaker (A Shanahan Match #3)

27

Torin was dead. Alannah leaned her head on Zaira’s shoulder. In the darkness of the shed, she couldn’t see the young woman sitting beside her, but her presence was comforting nonetheless.

Even though Bellamy had offered to ride with Zaira back to Oakland, she had decided to remain with Alannah. Bellamy had also wanted the two of them to stay in the apartment above the pub for the night. But Alannah had insisted on keeping to the shed, not wanting to put Bellamy and his family in more danger than she was already bringing them.

Tears filled Alannah’s eyes again, and she sniffled, trying to hold them back.

Zaira squeezed the hand she was clasping in her lap.

Alannah was thankful to have such a sweet friend at her side during this terrible time when all she could think about was that she’d lost everyone and everything. First Cagney and now Torin. And she had no job, no place to live, no money, no hope.

At a jerk on the door of the shed, she sat up stiffly. Beside her, Zaira straightened too.

Was it Shaw searching for her? The fellow had gotten Torin. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

A knock resounded against the door. “Open up.” The commanding but low voice belonged to Kiernan.

Alannah’s heart sped, and she climbed to her feet at the same time as Zaira. The young woman was the first to reach the door, unlocking it and opening it before Alannah could completely process that Kiernan was here.

The darkness of the night shrouded him as well as Bellamy standing just beyond. But there was still enough light from the stars and moon to see the outline of Kiernan’s strong frame.

“I need to speak with Alannah,” he whispered. “Alone.”

Zaira hesitated. “Alone isn’t a good—”

“Go. Now.” Kiernan ducked his head, then gentled his tone. “Please, Zaira?”

“Fine, but I’ll be waiting just outside the door.”

He didn’t respond as his sister sidled past him. Instead, he entered the shed.

As he closed the door, Alannah felt his presence, as intense and overpowering as always. He was near enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to.

And, oh saints above, she wanted to. She wanted his comfort, wanted his touch, wanted everything about him so she could lose herself with him and forget all her problems and the loneliness threatening to engulf her.

But she clenched her hands together to keep from using him so selfishly. She couldn’t hold on to him, not when she had to let him go.

“Alannah,” he started softly, apologetically.

That’s why he’d come. To tell her about Torin. “I already know.” Unbidden tears pricked her eyes again.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door, then took a step toward her, lessening the gap so that he was standing only inches away. “I have something to tell you.” When he clasped her shoulders, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she finished closing the distance between them and pressed her body against his. The hard, brawny length of him was solid and sturdy—everything she needed in this moment.

He didn’t hesitate and slipped his arms around her, wrapping her up in his embrace. The tenderness was in stark contrast to the magnitude of his power. And as she rested against him, she couldn’t hold back her tears.

“It’s alright,” he whispered.

It was, at least now. All her problems seemed to fade away, and she felt as though she could face anything and do anything as long as she was with him.

He bent his head, and his lips brushed against her ear. “What I’m about to tell you has to stay a secret. From Zaira and even from Bellamy.”

Something in his tone halted her tears.

“Promise me.”

She nodded.

His lips moved to the center of her ear, and his soft breath sent tingles over her skin.

Desire rippled through her again. She wanted his kiss, wanted to feel his mouth on her ear and on her lips.

“Torin is alive.” His whisper was so low, she almost won dered if she imagined it. “He’s injured, but the doctor says he’ll live.”

“What?” She forgot to whisper and pulled back, her pulse jumping erratically.

He immediately tugged her back, his mouth against her ear again. “Shaw can’t know. Everyone has to think Torin’s dead.”

For a moment, the words he’ll liv e raced through her head, and relief so overwhelming filled her that she sagged against Kiernan, clinging to him, tears heating her eyes. Torin was alive, had somehow survived the attack. But how? Where was he? Could she see him?

She pushed back again, lifting her face and trying to study Kiernan. “What happened? How did you—”

He cut her off by dropping his mouth onto hers.

The touch was gentle and filled with warning not to say anything else. But it was also filled with something else ... assurance and compassion and even love?

Whatever the kiss contained, she suddenly needed it more than she needed to breathe. She closed her eyes and pressed back. There was no gentleness in her kiss. It was hard and demanding all at once.

She lifted her arms around his neck, drawing him down, locking him in place, giving him no choice but to kiss her in return. This time not to silence her, but because there was no other place for him to go.

He half lifted her from the ground, as if he needed her even closer, couldn’t get enough of her, wanted all of her. The heat of his mouth melded against hers with a hunger—even desperation—that hadn’t been present for their first kiss.

This man. He didn’t have to command her with words. All he needed to do was kiss her and she was his, all of her heart and soul. She was utterly and completely his. There was nothing she wouldn’t give him.

One of his hands slid up her back to her neck to her hair that had come loose long ago and that she hadn’t bothered to bind, and he dug his fingers into the depths.

The kiss was as intense as he was, and she was dizzy with a tangible current drawing them together, as if they were made for each other and this moment was inevitable.

But it wasn’t inevitable ...?

What was she doing? With all the trouble she’d already brought upon Kiernan, how could she let this exhilarating moment continue?

With fresh resolve, she pushed against his chest. She shoved hard even as she continued to kiss him, loathe to bring the kiss to an end, devouring him with the same extravagant kisses that he was giving her.

Finally, she gave a thrust that separated them, or at least wakened him to her attempts to bring the kiss to an end.

He halted and broke away, his labored breathing bathing her lips as if begging her for more.

She couldn’t. She had to put an end to whatever was happening between them.

She released her hold around his neck and lowered her feet back to the shed floor. Her body felt like it had liquified, and her legs could hardly balance her weight. Her fingers wanted nothing more than to grasp his shirt into a fist and let him be her support.

But if she did so, how would she be able to leave him when the time came?

Drawing in a steadying breath, she took a step back and then two, until she bumped into a crate. Even with the distance, the air between them was filled with energy that threatened to draw them together again.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to rein in her emotions. “I’m sorry—”

“No apologies this time.” His whisper was gruff, almost angry.

“But we can’t—”

In one long stride he spanned the space between them, and his lips crashed into hers once more. He was like a ray of intense sunlight searing into her, burning her up, sending heat deep inside. She was instantly on fire, her protest scorched into ashes.

This time she couldn’t hold back a small cry of pleasure, which he captured hungrily, as if it was the fuel he needed for life itself.

Before she could wrap her arms around him, he ended the kiss abruptly. “No more apologies,” he whispered again.

She could only nod mutely, too lost to remember where she was and what was going on in the world around her. All that existed in that moment was Kiernan.

He stepped backward, latched on to the door, and then tossed it open.

Outside, Bellamy and Zaira stood nearby. She was staring at her shoes, toeing the gravel and twisting her hands in her skirt. Leaning against the shed, Bellamy just grinned, almost slyly, as if he’d planned the reunion himself.

It was obvious the two had heard the passionate kissing. And perhaps Zaira had been right to protest their being alone together.

Alannah almost sighed. It was too late to change what had happened. But there couldn’t be a next time. No more kisses with Kiernan.

She straightened her shoulders, glad the darkness of the night would hide her swollen lips and flushed face—at least she hoped it did.

Kiernan stepped out of the shed first, and she followed him. As he closed the door, he reached for the reins of his stallion that he’d left standing in the middle of the alley. “Alannah is going home with me.” His whisper punctuated the uncomfortable silence.

Was he taking her to Torin? Alannah’s heart thudded with a burst of hope. She could hardly believe her brother wasn’t dead, and the need to see him flooded her—the need to find out for herself how he was faring.

When Kiernan reached for her hand and guided her to the horse, just the touch of his fingers against hers sent off an avalanche of desire.

“You can’t,” Zaira whispered, “not until you’re married.”

Did Zaira think she intended to sleep with Kiernan tonight? “Mind you, I have no intention of—of...”

Zaira was leveling a stern gaze at her brother. “Kiernan?”

He hoisted Alannah up to the saddle. “She’ll stay in your room.”

“And I’ll be there too,” Zaira spoke firmly.

“Da is there.” Kiernan finished situating Alannah. “You have to go back to Oakland.”

“But—”

“We don’t want Shaw to suspect anything.”

Zaira fell silent.

“I’ll take Zaira home.” Bellamy pushed away from the shed.

“I can go back on my own, Bellamy.” Zaira glared at him. “I don’t need a nursemaid again.”

“Is that a fact?” Bellamy started toward the stable.

“Aye.”

Bellamy threw a comment over his shoulder. “If you stopped acting like a wee child, maybe I would believe you.”

Alannah could only watch the strange interaction between the two. Bellamy was normally a relaxed fellow. Why was Zaira able to ruffle him so easily?

Kiernan thrust his foot into the stirrup and climbed up behind Alannah. The moment he settled into the saddle with his body against hers, all coherent thought fled. When he reached around her for the reins, boxing her in, she had the urge to rest herself against his chest, lean her head on his shoulder, and bask in his closeness.

But she couldn’t. She had to stay strong. Had to do this for Kiernan.

He gently began to tug up her hood, then leaned forward and whispered, “So that no one recognizes you.”

“Oh aye.”

His nose brushed her ear. “And so that I’m not tempted to kiss you again.”

Tingles raced along her spine. Saints above. Just the mention of his kissing made her want to shift in the saddle and pull him down for another kiss. But she finished pulling up her hood and forced herself not to give in to the need to fall against him.

Thankfully, the ride to the Shanahan home on Third Street wasn’t long, even though Kiernan explained that he was going a roundabout route through the side streets that were deserted at the late hour, so that hopefully no one would see them.

When they arrived at the back door, Kiernan dismounted first, then helped her down. As he situated his hands on her waist, her blood began to hum with warmth, especially because she felt the pressure of his fingers as if he were touching her skin without her wearing anything at all.

She didn’t want to envision herself in such a state with Kiernan. It was lustful and wanton and shameless of her. If a few simple kisses could turn her head so quickly, she had to be more careful.

The back door opened to reveal an older servant. Kiernan introduced him as Winston the butler. As Winston ushered her inside, she was once again loathe to leave Kiernan’s side, but he didn’t follow and instead guided his horse toward the coach house.

Winston led her quietly through the Shanahan home. With each new room they passed, she was in awe of the grandeur. Although Oakland was spacious and elegant, the city home had clearly been built to impress and entertain guests.

As Alannah started up the grand marble staircase, Kiernan’s list of requirements for a wife pushed to the forefront of her mind. He wanted a well-bred, poised, and polished woman who could manage a home like this and who would be able to impress and entertain his important friends.

The truth was, she fell completely short of his standards and would never be comfortable overseeing a large household. In fact, she shouldn’t be trailing after Winston as if she were a gentlewoman. She ought to be using the servants’ staircase and offering to help him since he was her superior.

The old proverb said it best: Put silk on a goat, and it is still a goat.

She didn’t belong here in the Shanahan mansion, and she couldn’t stay in Zaira’s room as if she were one of the family. Maybe she would suggest remaining with Torin and taking care of him until he was healed.

When Winston stopped at one of the family chambers, he opened the door for her and then waved for her to precede him into the room. She hesitated a moment until her gaze landed on the unmoving form of Torin on the bed.

Right now, nothing else mattered except seeing her brother and making sure he survived. She would have time later to sort out everything else.