Dangerous Innocence (Five-Leaf-Clover)

I had warned Seamus not to go overboard with my stag party. It was only two days before the wedding and though we all had a high tolerance for alcohol, I didn’t want to knock myself out completely.

I sat at my chaotic desk in the small office in our warehouse at the docks when Seamus and Timothy came in with smiles that meant trouble. Leaning back, I narrowed my eyes. “I warned you. If you have any plans to dress me up in a fucking Borat costume or chaps with my bare ass hanging out, I’ll throw you to the bottom of a gravel container.”

Seamus exchanged a look with Timothy. “I told you that’s what he’d say.”

“I mean it.”

“We know,” Timothy said in a gruff voice. “But today’s plans aren’t our responsibility.”

“They’re not?” I asked doubtfully. My eyes slid to a tall, dark blond head appearing behind my two friends.

“What’s taking you so long?”

Surprise washed over me. “Aran.”

Aran was two years younger than me, the brother closest to me in age. He wasn’t as bulky, more the decathlete than the heavy-weight boxer, and his eyes were blue like our father’s. We didn’t share many physical traits, but our tempers were similar.

“Lorcan,” Aran said with a broad smile. I rose from my chair, came around the desk, and pulled my brother into a hug, clapping his shoulder. I hadn’t seen him in close to a year. I pulled back. “What happened to your baby face?” I asked, inspecting the five -o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. I’d never seen him not shaven.

Aran rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m going for the scruffy look, like you.”

“Are you the only one?” I asked, glancing through the glass window in my door, but the hall was vacant.

“Everyone’s outside waiting for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t overdo it. I don’t care if it’s tradition or not.”

“Shut up and get going,” Aran muttered.

I sent Timothy and Seamus another warning look. It was impossible to threaten my brother but those two should know better than to have any embarrassing plans for me. Aran wouldn’t be the problem, but I was worried about the twins’ involvement. If they were here, things would escalate.

I followed Timothy, Seamus and Aran through the warehouse then outside to an waiting Hummer stretch limousine. “Going all-in with the American lifestyle?”

Aran shrugged. “Not my idea.”

“Of course not.”

The door to the limousine swung open and our youngest brother, twin number two and the main reason why Caden and Callahan were known as TNT among our men—they were an equally explosive combination—poked out his blond head. He flashed a grin at me that would have made his dentist proud, all those perfect pearly white teeth.

“The star of the show.”

“No show, no embarrassing shit, Caden, or I swear I’m going to whip your ass like you’re still five.”

“In his mind he still is,” Callahan commented as he appeared beside his twin brother in the door of the car. His hair had a touch of red, pretty much the only thing that distinguished the two from each other, at first glance.

“You’re not much better.”

“I thought you’d be less grumpy considering our rare family reunion!” Caden jumped down and strode over to me. He jerked me into a hug and smelled of alcohol.

“I see you got the party started without me.”

“One shot to test the quality,” Callahan said before he, too, hugged me.

“Speaking of a family reunion, it’s not one as long as Balor’s not here.”

Caden raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

I froze and glanced at Aran. “Balor’s not here, right?”

“He is,” Balor drawled from somewhere inside the car then louder, “We’re paying per the hour, so how about you stop wasting time?”

With a grin, I climbed inside the limo. It was huge with a full-stacked bar to the right and comfy leather seats all around. The floor was covered in dark green carpet and the bar glowed an eerie green too. Green dots of light danced all around the car.

Balor, in a dark suit, coat and Budapest shoes, sat in a corner with his usual stoic expression.

“You’re here,” I said, still in shock. My brother rarely left Ireland, or his manor, except when business required it.

“Consider it my wedding gift. Flights cost an arm and a leg.”

“For fuck’s sake, Balor, you swim in fucking money, stop bitching,” Aran said.

“You’re not hiding Father somewhere in a surprise cake, right?”

Balor shook his head when he finally stopped scowling at Aran. “You know Father’s aversity to America. He’ll congratulate you when you marry again in our manor as is tradition.”

“Of course.”

The brief flicker of disappointment annoyed the hell out of me, so I shoved it down.

My brothers, Seamus and Timothy all took their seats and we toasted with a bottle of Kilkenny.

A quick scan of the fridge showed it stocked to the brim with Irish beer, and the bar also had Irish whiskey.

Callahan fumbled with a sound panel and soon a loud beat shook the limo.

“Get out of your coat, Balor. You drive me nuts looking like a fucking Burberry ad.”

Balor gave Aran a mildly exasperated look, like the silverback who tolerated his offspring’s annoying antics. He got out of his coat and folded it beside him on the seat.

The limousine started moving and after a few more beers and whiskeys, even Balor relaxed slightly. Caden had opened the sunroof and was screaming obscenities at whoever we passed by. “I see our first stop!” he shouted, and soon after we parked. I wondered if I had been like this at twenty-two. I couldn’t remember.

“Open the door,” Caden said as he poked his head back into the vehicle.

Callahan opened the door and made a welcoming gesture to a woman with long brown hair and tanned skin. “Come in!” The woman wearing a nurse costume climbed inside. She slid over to me and began to dance, with her tits half pressed into my face. Fifteen minutes later, she was naked, except for her nurse cap, and was bouncing her naked ass up and down Caden’s lap as he impaled her with his dick.

“She could still be yours,” he said with a grin.

I waved him off. “Enjoy.” I never liked the idea of sex for money, which was ironic considering the way Aislinn had found her way into my claws.

“This is as tasteless as I expected a stag party in New York to be,” Balor said, trying not to look at the porn show. Callahan turned the music up to drown out the stripper’s moans. The way she fluttered her lashes at Caden, I wasn’t even sure if her moans were fake. His charm always drew the girls in.

I shrugged and took another gulp from my beer. “We’ve had a good few tasteless parties in the old days, Balor, even if you’re acting like an old man now.”

The limousine came to another stop and when Callahan opened the door, two more girls squeezed inside with bottles of gin and tonic. Lime slices hung from thin strings around their waist and chest.

I don’t know when we returned to the warehouse, but when I came to my senses, we were all sprawled out on the seats in the limousine. Snores filled the car, and it stank of spilled alcohol. I was shirtless but still had my pants on, unlike Caden, who was stark naked. The stripper had written down her private number on his forearm. I shook my head. Caden opened his eyes in that moment and followed my gaze to his forearm. “That could have been you if you had been a bit more approachable.”

“I’m about to marry. I don’t need her number.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. I won’t call her back anyway.”

Of course, he wouldn’t. But I had no interest in other women. I wanted Aislinn and soon I’d have her.

Balor was sitting at my desk, sipping from a mug, when I came into the warehouse. “Your coffee is shit.”

I poured myself a cup before I sank down on the uncomfortable chair in front of the desk since my older brother made no move to vacate my desk chair. “It’s meant to drive guests away.”

“It’s succeeding,” Balor said in his usual no-nonsense tone. He’d always been like that. Even as a boy he’d been the voice of reason amongst us. He glanced at his watch. “I should return to my hotel room. I have a Zoom meeting with one of our morphine connections.”

I shook my head. “You’re bringing work to my wedding.”

“You’re not marrying today.”

I put my boot-clad feet up on the desk. Balor’s face pinched with disapproval, but he didn’t comment. In the beginning, he’d always played boss when he came to the States until I’d told him to fuck off because this was my goddamn territory. I knew he’d been acting on Dad’s behalf. I had to prove my worth before they trusted me to represent our clan on this side of the pond.

“I have been thinking about this marriage,” Balor said.

I took a sip of my coffee, waiting for him to say what it was he had to say.

“I don’t see why you’d marry the Killeen girl, except to aggravate our father.”

“Why would my decision to finally marry aggravate him? She’s Irish, so his worst nightmare of me marrying an American isn’t coming true.” Dad liked the money that could be made in the States, but he wanted only Irish blood in our family. It was why Balor had given up his first and only love over a decade ago. It was why my oldest brother still wasn’t married and why my father had been bugging me to seal the deal so at least one of us could carry on the Devaney line.

“You didn’t just pick anyone. You picked a Killeen. We have history. It would look exceedingly bad if we let another Killeen run away and make us lose face.”

“I can control Aislinn.”

Balor nodded. “I still don’t understand why.”

Seamus had said the same. I didn’t really know why either. All I could come up with was, “She reminds me of Ireland.”

Aislinn 

When Lorcan and Gulliver had talked about marriage, I’d expected months, possibly years, of planning, especially since I was marrying a Devaney.

I didn’t expect to be married off less than two weeks later, only surrounded by Lorcan’s men and their wives and girlfriends. I’d always wanted my family to be at my wedding, but I couldn’t bring myself to let this charade count. This marriage had an expiration date, for me at least. The moment I found Imogen, I’d return to Ireland and Lorcan would certainly find a new woman to pester.

Maeve gave a satisfied nod as she attached another white flower to my hair. “That dress is a stunner, and so are you!”

With flushed cheeks flushed and teary eyes, she was more excited about today than I was. She’d even invited me over to her place two days ago to watch movies and get drunk, our version of a bachelorette party. I was incredibly grateful for her support.

I had to admit I really loved my wedding dress. The embroidered Irish flowers and clover leaves were absolutely stunning. The only thing I could have done without was the small five-leaf clover. I wondered if Lorcan had told Talulla to add it like a stamp of ownership.

“Are you nervous?” Maeve asked.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t—not yet. It felt too surreal, like a nightmare I would wake from very soon. I hadn’t seen Lorcan since our meeting at church. Maybe that was also why my anxiety wasn’t very high. I quickly shook my head.

Maeve squeezed my upper arm. “I’m sure that’ll change once you see Lorcan. He looks very dapper in his wedding outfit, but I shouldn’t reveal too much.”

It was endearing that Maeve thought I would be ecstatic at the sight of Lorcan. I didn’t doubt that my anxiety would spike once I saw him. After his threat at church, I definitely worried about being alone with him.

A knock sounded. Maeve rushed over to the door of the hotel room Lorcan had booked for me so I could get ready. It was only a few blocks from the church and only had about twenty rooms. The room we were in was a small room with twin beds but more than enough to put on a dress. “Mr. Devaney,” Maeve said, full of respect.

I turned, shocked. Was Lorcan’s father here? I’d never seen Devaney senior, but I hadn’t thought anyone from Lorcan’s family would show up today. My anxiety skyrocketed. Maybe Lorcan was more serious about our marriage than I initially thought.

“Mrs. O’Leary,” a deep male voice said. It didn’t sound old enough to belong to Lorcan’s father, and when a tall man with a frame similar to Lorcan’s stepped past Maeve, I realized it must be one of his brothers, presumably the oldest, the head of the Devaney clan in Ireland.

From behind, I might have mistaken this man for Lorcan, though this man’s hair was shorter. Their eyes and expression were very different, though. He seemed reserved, restrained, almost impassive. Lorcan gave off the chaotic energy of a wild beast in a cage.

“I’m Balor Devaney, Lorcan’s older brother, and I’ll lead you down the aisle.”

“I’m Aislinn Killeen,” I said stupidly, as if he didn’t know exactly who I was. I was too dumbfounded by his presence.

“Aislinn, then?”

“Of course,” I said. I glanced at Maeve, who looked a little lost.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” I flushed at how that sounded, but I doubted anyone believed this wedding was out of love. Anyone with a brain had to know that Lorcan was forcing me to marry him.

Balor’s expression remained indifferent. “We need five minutes to get to the church and the ceremony starts in ten minutes.”

I had completely lost track of time.

“I’ll go ahead. Seamus is probably expecting me.”

I nodded to show Maeve it was okay. With a supportive smile, she slid out of the room. Balor motioned to the door and I quickly walked past him. A black limousine waited in front of the building.

Balor sat in the front with the driver, which was fine with me. His presence unsettled me. When the car finally came to a stop, my heartrate quickened. This was it. I was going to become a Devaney. To keep my rising panic at bay, I had to remind myself that this was only temporary. Imogen, you owe me big time.

The door opened and Balor held his hand out to me. I allowed him to help me out of the car and to lead me into the vestibule of the church. A Celtic harp, followed by an Uilleann pipe, began to play. My heart swelled with warmth at the familiar sounds of my home, and I felt strangely emotional. I’d always wanted my wedding to be accompanied by traditional music, the soft tugs of the harp and the sharp calls of the pipe. That Lorcan had picked our home country’s music made me tolerate him a tad more.

The church doors swung open, and I shivered at the lower temperature inside the vast nave. Half of the pews were filled with guests, mostly Lorcan’s men and their families. At the end of the long aisle, I spotted Gulliver with a serene look on his face. Was he really pleased with this bond?

My eyes slid to the side, coming to a stop on Lorcan’s imposing frame. I was surprised and a little pleased when I saw Lorcan’s wedding outfit. He had opted for a traditional kilt, Brian Boru jacket, white tux shirt with bow tie, knee socks that matched his tartan, a Sporran with a five-leaf clover, and Ghillie Brogue shoes. He looked exceptionally good in it. Some people thought men couldn’t look manly in a “skirt.” Lorcan with his muscled calves and imposing figure proved them wrong with a bang.

Beside him stood his groomsmen that—I could only guess—his brothers; other than Balor, their similarities to Lorcan were limited. They were all tall and fit, but their hair was lighter and so was their aura.

Balor began walking, and I had no choice but to follow along. Every face in the church turned to me. I could see suspicion in many faces: eyes narrowed, lips pinched, foreheads furrowed. I hadn’t gained their trust yet. I may be Irish, but I was an intruder in their community, and my last name probably didn’t help either. The only friendly face was Maeve’s. She beamed at me like a proud mother, and I couldn’t help but return her smile. Her positive energy was impossible to ignore.

When we arrived at the front, my cheeks burned under the force of everyone’s attention. I was definitely not ready for marriage, definitely not ready for this, for Lorcan and everything a bond with him entailed. It was a limited-time deal, on my part at least, but it didn’t make the current pressure any easier.

Gulliver gave me a nod, which he probably meant as encouragement, before turning to the Devaney brother closest to us. “Aran, will you tie the knot?”

My eyebrows shot up when the tall, blond man stepped forward with a rope in his hands.

Lorcan bent down to me with a smirk. “Handfasting is a Celtic tradition, Aislinn. No need for the shocked face. You should save it up for when I tie you to the bedpost tonight.”

He let out a low chuckle at my expression then straightened back to his full height. I had no chance for a comeback because Aran positioned himself in front of us with a serious look on his face. Like the rest of the brothers, he was traditionally dressed.

“Clasp hands,” he instructed, the hint of impatience coloring his voice. Lorcan took both of my hands in his, and Aran began his work of wrapping the rope around our wrists and hands until we couldn’t have separated even if we tried. This was probably a metaphor of what my marriage to a clan boss would be like.

When Aran stepped back, Gulliver took his place and began to read from the bible. The heat emitting from Lorcan’s body was immense and increased my flushed state. Though I tried to focus on Gulliver’s words, my mind drifted off to images of what might await me tonight in the bedroom. Lorcan couldn’t possibly have been serious about tying me to a bedpost. Not for our first night together …right?

Lorcan flexed his fingers, making me wince from the additional pressure. I looked up, but Lorcan’s attention was straight ahead.

Gulliver waited expectantly for my yes to the vows he’d just read aloud.

I glanced toward Lorcan. The dark green of his jacket matched his eyes, and the suspenders peeking out beneath it had horseshoes and clover leaves on them as tokens of good luck. He looked relaxed, at peace even.

I wished I could say the same about myself. My pulse hadn’t slowed since I’d set foot inside church. My body was in flight mode.

None of this felt real. Nothing felt real these last two weeks.

And now, standing beside my soon-to-be husband in my gorgeous hand-embroidered floor-length dress and flower garland in my hair, even less than before. As children, Imogen and I had occasionally taken turns putting on Mum’s wedding dress, a cheap white polyester garment she couldn’t part with despite Dad’s infidelity. We used to admire ourselves in the mirror, sometimes even staged wedding ceremonies. That had felt more real than the ceremony taking place in front of me.

“Yes,” I said, sounding clear and certain. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the realness and enormity of the situation finally sinking in. This was a real wedding. Even if I ran, I’d have to figure out a way to get out of this bond. If I assumed a new identity, which might be my only option to escape my husband, I wouldn’t have to worry about a divorce.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Lorcan tugged me toward his body by our still tied hands, and I peered up at him. He was devilishly handsome and devilishly cruel. His lips found mine, soft and chaste, a show before church. Despite everything that had happened after the auction, it was our first kiss, a testament to our twisted bond. Lorcan smelled good, like fresh sawdust and something crisp and herbal. I couldn’t help but wonder what a real kiss from Lorcan would be like.

Applause filled the church and Lorcan’s brothers began to ring small bells to ward off evil spirits while Gulliver untied the rope. The bond that our vows represented was stronger than any rope, so it could be removed. Balor stepped forward with a green cushion. Two white gold rings with Celtic engravings and emerald stones sat atop of it.

After we’d exchanged the rings, we quickly accepted the congratulations before we moved on to an Irish pub for the festivities. When imagining my wedding, I never considered a splendid feast but a pub was definitely underwhelming.

Once all of the guests had filtered into the two big rooms of the pub, it was crammed. The scent of meaty comfort food saturated the air. The tables were decorated with real horseshoes, golden clover leaves, and a small rustic bell sat atop each plate. In the center of each table was a flower arrangement with moss, daisies, baby’s breath, and handcrafted white candles with bottles as holders.

“Do you like it?” Maeve asked as she took, to my surprise, her seat beside me.

“Yes, it’s lovely. Did you handle it?”

She nodded. Lorcan sank down beside me and grasped my hand again, which he’d only briefly released for a conversation with the pub owner. The noise level was extreme, not the hushed murmurs you’d expect before dinner at a wedding.

Seamus sat down beside Maeve and the rest of the table was occupied by Lorcan’s brothers and a middle-aged man and his wife that I’d seen in church before. The food and drinks were rustic, tasty but simple.

Still, I enjoyed the taste of Ireland, especially the Guinness and steak-and-ale-pie. Through conversations, I soon found out that several of his men were cousins, second cousins or nephews, but the inner circle of the Devaney clan all lived in Ireland.

I wondered what Lorcan’s father thought about the marriage. Was he absent because he didn’t approve of it? Or maybe he saw it as a way to torment me as part of our family’s punishment. I wished I could say Gulliver would never aid Lorcan in such a quest, but he was more a man of the church and mob than a part of our family.

We were halfway through dinner when Aran turned to me. “What made you say yes to my brother?”

I slanted a look at Lorcan, wondering if his brother was taunting me or if Lorcan had actually made up some kind of ridiculous love story that I shouldn’t contradict.

“I’m difficult to resist,” Lorcan said, leaning back in his chair so his pecs flexed under his white shirt. He’d discarded his jacket over the backrest after the starter of ham and pea soup, which was served with crusty soda bread.

“You’re difficult, I’ll give you that,” Aran said dryly.

Balor hadn’t said much, and when he had, it was in a hushed voice about business to Seamus and Timothy.

Soon, the party got boisterous. Men stripped down to their bare chests, dancing with bottles of liquor in hand and singing along to Irish tunes that made my heart feel heavy with homesickness.

“We should join in the fun,” Lorcan said, holding out his hand. He still wore his shirt with suspenders, but the top buttons were open, revealing his dark chest hair and an ancient cross that almost made me roll my eyes. I forced a smile, playing my part. The moment we hit the dancefloor, everyone gathered in a circle around us and began stomping their feet and clapping.

I allowed the music to ring in my bones, and moved my limbs instinctively. Lorcan moved surprisingly well for someone so tall and muscular. Like a hunter with his eyes set on his prey, Lorcan’s gaze never left my body as I danced.

“On the table!” someone shouted, and Lorcan lifted me onto a long table before leaping up to join me. The table vibrated under our feet as we jumped and twirled to the quickening beat of the music. Soon, more people joined us on the table, even Maeve and Seamus. Seamus pulled Maeve against him for a passionate kiss as he squeezed her ass. When they pulled apart, Maeve’s skin was beet red. She playfully swatted at her husband.

“Can’t let them steal the show,” Lorcan chuckled, as he grabbed me by the neck and jerked me toward him. His lips crashed down on mine and swallowed my gasp, which soon turned into a choked moan when his tongue teased me masterfully while his hand massaged my ass. My head was spinning as I returned the kiss, trying to match Lorcan’s fervor even as I became dizzy from lack of air and the overwhelming pulsing between my legs. I’d never had a kiss like this, not with Patrick and not with my first crush before Patrick. When Lorcan released me, I swayed, breathless and disoriented. The cheers and applause of the crowd around us brought me back to the present.

“Help that man out of his shirt!” Seamus shouted, and soon more joined in. By now, Lorcan was the only man who still wore a shirt. He stopped and extended his arms with an expectant smile. My hands were thankfully steady when I began to unbutton his shirt. The music had banished my nervousness for now. When the last button was opened, I slid down his suspenders and helped him shrug off his shirt. It was the first time I saw Lorcan’s chest, and I wished it didn’t have any impact on me. But Lorcan was a bear of a man—muscled, strong, and with just the right amount of chest hair that made me want to rake my fingers through it. The thought made me feel hot, and as if Lorcan could follow my train of thought, he smirked as he put his suspenders back on and extended his hand for another dance.

My desire for my husband was ever present. It didn’t make me any less nervous about tonight. My first time with Lorcan wouldn’t be the slow, considerate lovemaking I’d envisioned in the past. It would be dirty and hot and probably damn painful.