Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Cormac, we said we’d talk about your decision this weekend. What will it be, brother?” Keenan shoots straight and is ready to move ahead with our plans. It’s rare we discuss Clan business in a pub instead of one of the more private meeting rooms, but sometimes if we can talk discreetly enough, it’s worth it.
I don’t answer at first, but take another long pull from the cold, frothy Guinness. I welcome the thick, slightly bitter taste, my belly warming with the gulps I take. Up until now, we could’ve been any three brothers sitting at a pub with a cold drink. But few people have to wrestle the decision before me now.
My father was killed by a Martin clan sniper, an act of war according to the iron-clad code we follow. But shortly after my father’s death, our rival, Mack Martin, offered a virgin tribute to Keenan, to be given to one of our men. Marrying the Martin girl would ensure peace between the Clans. We agreed she wouldn’t marry until she’d graduated, but now that she has, it’s time.
Keenan raises a finger to Rafferty. “Another round, Rafferty.”
“This one’s one me, brother.” Keenan’s soon to be a dad, and I want to celebrate.
I take another long pull from my pint and mull over the choice before me. As the second eldest McCarthy brother, I’m next in line to the throne. There’s no escape. If anything were to happen to Keenan, I’d have to take his role and by clan law, I’m not allowed unless I take a wife.
The thought of marrying a Martin makes me sick. Fucking Martins. I’ve little choice when it comes to marriage, though. The men of The Clan rarely date for sport. A Clan marriage should solidify bonds. They rarely take place because of love. Sometimes we take captives in payment for a crime. Sometimes marriage is an act of retribution, and sometimes we agree to arranged marriage. Often, we’re betrothed.
If I decline the Martin girl, what other chance will I have? But more importantly, what will happen to our Clan?
“She’s fucking gorgeous,” Nolan says to me. We’ve been given pictures, and I’ve done a fair bit of social media stalking myself.
“Aye.” But what if the girl’s looks are only a mask? “She may be spoiled. Her father’s one of the wealthiest in the Martin clan.”
Keenan smiles. “You could fix spoiled.”
Nolan groans. “I’d fucking love a chance to fix spoiled. Put that little girl right over my knee and teach her the lessons her dad forgot, aye?”
Despite my reservations, I shift on the bar stool. The image of the pretty blonde I’ve been poring over strewn on my lap tempting as hell. I don’t like the more violent line of work we do at times, but I do like what Nolan’s introduced me to at the club: deliberate pain laced with raw sexual power.
“Agreed,” Keenan says. “Spoiled is an easy fix, and one you’d handle well.”
I grunt and take another swig. “Could be a nag.” I grimace at the very thought.
Nolan snickers. “Also quickly remedied with a firm hand. Hell, the first thing you ought to teach a woman’s to watch a smart mouth.”
Keenan rolls his eyes. “For a jovial fuck-up, you’re a dominant son-of-a-bitch.”
Nolan clinks his drink against Keenan’s, smiling. “Why thank you,” he says, as if he’s just been paid the highest compliment. “And anyway, you should talk. You think I didn’t notice the crop and cuffs you nicked from the club, or that slender collar your own wife wears? You might be private, Keenan, but I’m no eejit.”
Keenan smiles wordlessly as he takes another sip from his pint. He enjoys the finer tastes of domination, but would cut off his own bollox before he brought his wife in the presence of other men. He may have brought her here once or twice, but he’s a possessive bastard, and saves his escapades for the privacy of his bedroom.
“You are not,” Keenan says. “And Cormac, I agree with Nolan. Both spoiled and nagging are easily remedied.”
“Not everything can be fixed with a crop or a firm hand,” I tell them, barely tempering the need to roll my eyes.
“No,” Keenan agrees. “But you’re McCarthy stock. You’ll know how to handle her.”
“Aye,” Nolan says, his bright green eyes widening in earnest. “’Tis easy to train a woman. When she’s naughty, you take her across her lap, teach her manners and to watch her mouth. Then you show her just how nice it can be when she obeys you. If you catch the right sort, she might even be wet between the legs after you punish her.”
Keenan chuckles. “Aye.”
“Then when she’s good and well tamed, you reward her for being a good girl. Take care of her, and her heart will be yours.”
“You act as if training a woman’s as simple as training a feckin’ filly.”