Secrets Dispatched Page 3

  “You’re treading on thin ice, kitten.”

  Her eyes widened at the sobriquet, and he would have sworn she twitched and began to dip her head before she straightened. “Yeah, true enough. I’m trading words with an arsehole. I’ll go and wait in the car.”

  Ross grabbed her arm as she began to walk away.

  “I don’t think so. Shit, woman, you’d freeze to death.”

  “Do not grab me, mate.”

  She swung her other arm so fast that Ross only just managed to move to one side and miss the fist she shot toward him. Something glinted between her thumb and forefinger and he realized it was a set of keys with the business end sticking out far enough to disable any attacker for enough time to enable her to leave the scene. He took hold of that arm as well, and with difficulty, pried the keys out of her hand. They dropped to the floor with a metallic thunk.

  If looks could kill, he’d be six feet underground. She had guts, he’d give her that, but, oh, how stupid to go head to head with a guy who was a good twelve inches taller and several stones heavier. He tamped down his temper. He’d show her how to defend herself properly, later—if she gave him the chance.

  Ross held both her hands in one of his and lifted his arm so she had to stand on the balls of her feet. Even that didn’t seem to faze her because she tried to twist and kick out. He pulled her even higher until only the toe edge of her boots touched the floor. She lifted one booted foot, balanced on the other and tried to knee him in the balls. Ross moved until her back was against the wall and put his own leg across her, so she had no room to maneuver. He pressed hard enough for her to wince and gasp. It served her right. Not only for being arsy but also for being so bloody stupid to first of all come in and afterwards to carry on in the way she had. Did she have a death wish?

  “Naughty. But at least you’ve woken up to the danger of being alone with someone you don’t know.”

  “Not really.”

  Ross waited for her to continue. She looked very pointedly at his hand, which he still had clamped tightly around her arm.

  “You haven’t?”

  Surely she was kidding him. However, she didn’t look as if she were joking. More that she knew something he didn’t. Ross wasn’t very happy about that.

  She firmed her lips. “Nope. Now let me down.”

  “Not a chance, kitten. Silly subbies need showing the errors of their ways.” Why on earth was he insisting she was a sub? And calling her kitten? He never, ever used a special nickname for a sub. It was always pet. Apart from which, she probably didn’t even know what he was talking about.

  “Tell me about it,” she said, somewhat cryptically, he thought. “But as I’m not a silly subbie, you can let me down.”

  “Hmm.” So she does know then. Life was beginning to get interesting. He stared at her and she stared back. This close, her scent drifted across to him to tease his nostrils.

  “Jo Malone?” he asked.

  “No, that’s not me.” She winked.

  “Funny girl. The perfume as well, you know.” Ross shook her. It was handy being a full foot taller. It didn’t seem to faze her one jot. She waited until he stopped and huffed. Chestnut curls spiraled around her face and she blew a few strands off her nose.

  “Need to get this mop trimmed. It’s Blackberry and Bay—the perfume, not my hair. Fancy you knowing your perfumes. In touch with our female side now, are we? Bit of a change from footie.” She chuckled. “Poor, Ross, you might have me up on my toes, but you’re the one at the disadvantage, aren’t you?”

  “You think so?” What the hell is her name? It was years since he’d seen or corresponded with the Donoghue brothers, and they’d played footie and chased subs together. Since he’d left Australia, in fact. “So maybe you should enlighten me.”

  “Why?”

  “God almighty, you’d try the patience of a saint. I’m no saint. Sadist, maybe, but saint? Not a chance.”

  She swallowed and for one second he thought she’d give in. He was wrong.

  “Sadist as in how?” She twisted her shoulders and looked directly at his face. This close he could see tiny flecks of silver in her eyes, and notice just how long her lashes were. “Do you pull the wings off of flies or torture stray cats?”

  “No, just torture stray subs.”

  “Ah…” She was silent for a second. “But if you’re a sadist, and this is a BDSM club, then by my reckoning, that makes you a Dom. Therefore you’d follow safe, sane and consensual. Let me say here and now, Ross Mackie, I’m no masochist, and I’d shout red at the top of my lungs if you so much as laid a non-consensual finger on me.”

  He dropped her back onto her feet so suddenly that Shane swayed and grabbed hold of his arm to stabilize herself. It was that or land in a heap at his feet, and not in the way she reckoned he’d prefer.

  Ross Mackie. The guy she’d dreamed of, drooled over and worshiped from afar. With hindsight, it made sense that he was a Dom. Shane had recognized his look of authority even before she’d understood what it meant. He’d appeared in many of her ‘tied up by baddies, rescued by the hero’ daydreams in her teens—always as the tall dark and impossibly handsome surfer-dude, who saved her from what she and her friends had called a fate worse than death. Of course none of them had really known what that meant, but they’d done a lot of giggling and wondering just what people got up to behind closed doors.

  When she’d found out, Shane has been somewhat disappointed. Until she’d seen her brothers then indulged in a little subbing herself. Just as she’d discovered what her preferences were, Pete the Plonker had upset everything. Since then, she’d had no inclination to dip her toes in the lifestyle pool again. Until now, maybe?

  Shane gave herself a mental talking to. He still didn’t know who she was, and if he seriously was a sadist, could she cope? It was one thing about dreaming that he spanked her for disobeying her brothers and another to actually let him. The problem wasn’t the spanking or anything else she knew about BDSM. It was the sadistic part she wasn’t sure about. She’d never really tested her pain threshold and wasn’t sure she was ready to do it now. With Pete the Plonker it had been more mental torture he’d enjoyed and she’d gotten away from him before he’d had a chance to be too overly creative.

  “Cry red? Would you, now?” Ross asked her in a skeptical voice, as he returned to her last comments. “Because I’ve got a feeling, kitten, you’d like nothing more than to feel my hand on your bare arse and making it the color of your other cheeks.”

  She put her hand to her heated face. Damn him, he was right. Her thong was damp and creeping up her arse like it wanted to part the globes in readiness for anything Ross wanted to do.

  Don’t I get a say in the matter? What’s with the pretend I’m a cheese grater not a thong scenario? For fuck’s sake. There was no way she could remove the string of her thong without making it abundantly clear what she was doing.

  “Bugger you, Ross. Stop it now.”

  He grabbed her chin and squeezed the soft flesh, just short of inflicting real pain.

  “Now listen well, kitten. For whatever reason you’re here for, I’m not tolerating language more suited to the gutter. You say your brothers taught you to defend yourself. Did they teach you to be crude as well?”

  Boy, is he up his own arse or what?

  “Eh? Grief, Ross, you’re Aussie.” Her voice rose and she strove to lower it. “That’s not crude, it’s a pleasantry. Get out of yourself and come down to the level of us lesser mortals.” His fingers tightened. Shane bit her lip. It was more than likely she’d have a bruise there tomorrow and it hurt, so why was her skin tingling and the darts of pleasure bombarding her making her even wetter? “Sir.”

  He snorted and let go of her chin. Instead of relief, Shane felt she’d lost something special.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but you do seem familiar, and I do know two brothers called Troy and Jase, but their sister was only…” He stopped speaking and tucked his hands into the pockets of
his jeans. His action stretched the material over his thighs and cock, which was defined clearly under the dark blue denim. It seemed their interaction had pleased him as much as it had her.

  “Was only…?” Shane prompted.

  “Was only a kid. And that’s one thing you’re not.”

  She nodded. “You’re right there. I’m no kid. I’m a grown up with a mind of her own. Who needs to speak to Jess Sutherland.”

  “Who isn’t here. So what do you want to do now, kitten?”

  “Not be called stupid names.”

  Chapter Three

  Why the hell couldn’t he recall her name? He remembered her now. A dark-haired virago who’d stared at him all the time as if he were the answer to everything. Did she still think that? So far it didn’t seem likely, but Ross would sure as hell like to find out.

  “So, I’ll need to be reminded of your name, kitten. Sister to Jase and Troy, known I seem to remember, as pest.” That much was true. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t think of her name. It was rarely used. “Who used to dog our every footstep, and I’m damned sure nicked a crop of Troy’s and used it for riding her horse and goodness knows what else. Why do you need to see Jess?”

  She sighed. “It had been my crop in the first place. He took it off me for”—she rolled her eyes—“well, he said because I was messing with it. I reckon he was just being a cheapskate and not wanting to splash the cash and buy one for his own use. Troy never was one for spending if he could manage somehow. My name is Shane. I’m sorry, Ross, I can’t tell you why I want to speak to Jess. It’s private.”

  The way she spoke was enough to tell him he’d get no further with his questions. It was a pity because he’d love to know what she meant by messing with it. Ross decided to change the subject and his tactics. After all, he wanted to see what sort of sub she was. Now was his chance.

  “Then how about I show you round until Jess gets here?”

  She bit her lip.

  Ross used his finger to release the soft, red skin from her teeth. “Don’t do that, kitten. Any marks will be mine.” He winced inwardly as she drew in a deep breath. How presumptuous was that statement? He opened his mouth to apologize, but she broke into hurried speech.

  “Why do you say that? Call me kitten and stuff? I’ve told you I don’t like it.”

  He considered how best to reply. Honestly, of course. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to scare her.

  “It pleases me,” he said at last. “Shane, how much about BDSM do you know?” He took her arm and tucked it in his as he urged her down the corridor. “Not what you sneaked a peek at when you were younger, but really know.” He waited as she stared at him.

  “A bit.” She blushed and twiddled with the edge of her cuffs.

  “Here, let’s hang your coat up.” He’d return to the subject of her knowledge before long. “Or as they say over here, you won’t feel the benefit later.”

  She giggled. “Not much need in Freo.”

  “True.” Fremantle in Western Australia was a lot hotter than winter in Scotland. “BDSM?” he prompted her. “You don’t seem uninterested.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Oh, come on, kitten. You didn’t flinch when I mentioned it. I know for a fact you spied on your brothers at times, and were not appalled or disgusted. You display perfect subbie behavior.”

  “I do? Shit.”

  The look of astonishment on her face was so comical Ross burst out laughing. “Apart from the language, kitten. I’d wash your mouth out for that if you were mine.”

  “Just as well I’m not then.”

  Bloody hell, you will be.

  “Well? What’s it to be?” He cursed the impatience in his voice, but he needed to know if it was to be a coffee in the restaurant or a chance to see what appealed to her. He found himself hoping it was the latter. Surely she knew what she was? Or was she one of those people who ignored what stared them in the face? Apart from that, he wondered why it mattered so much to him. He’d been coasting along quite happily, and now out of the blue, someone he thought was a perfect sub attracted him. Sadly she was someone he couldn’t play with on a casual basis, not when he remembered who her family was. Ross was honest enough to accept his interest might not be returned, or they might not mesh. Could he take the risk, and face up to the fact there was the possibility of upsetting two of his oldest friends if things didn’t work out? He reined in his thoughts. She hadn’t even said she was tempted to look around, let alone anything else. He was getting ahead of himself,

  “I said, yes, please.”

  “Ah.” He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, he’d missed what she was saying yes to. “Good. Sorry, I was wool gathering.” He’d always been one to own up to any shortcoming. “Yes to coffee or…?”

  “Both, but coffee first, please. I’m shivering, and my teeth are chattering.”

  Even in the centrally heated warmth of the castle, her body shook, and he could tell it wasn’t from arousal. Ross swore under his breath. “I’ll get you a subbie blanket to wrap around you, and take you to my flat. Are you okay with that, or do you want to do your ‘here I am’ call first?”

  Shane grinned, even as her teeth rattled against each other. “I did that while you were, er, wool gathering. Jase says hi, and remember who my brothers are.”

  As if I’m likely to forget.

  Ross nodded, but decided any reply would be inadequate. Instead, he opened a door to their right. “Store room. Give me a sec.” He went in and grabbed a new blanket still in its packaging. “Take that coat off and let’s get you warm. There’s a changing room over there with a shower in it. Do you want to use it?”

  Shane shook her head as she handed him her coat and wrapped the soft fuzzy blanket around her body. “No thanks, a cuppa and a nosy around will do fine. Er, when do you expect Jess?”

  “No idea.” Ross made his mind up. “Look, as we do know each other, sort of, even if it’s been years since we met and we both could be ax murders for all we know, will you come into the flat? I live here for the time being, and it’s a lot warmer and comfier than going to the bar area. The club is closed on a Tuesday.” A thought struck him. “You do know what sort of club it is, don’t you?” After all, even though they’d been talking about BDSM, had either of them actually mentioned what Diomhair was?

  “Yes, and yes. I do my research, you know. Anyway, it’s one reason why I need to speak… Oh, shit, ignore that.” She shook her head, and he swore he heard her mutter brain addled, under her breath. “Um, which way?”

  He let her comment go. There would be time for questioning later. Once he got her reaction to the club and its contents. “This way. We’ll use the internal stairs.” He led Shane along the corridor and away from the public area. Eventually, in the bowels of the building as Jess once had told him, he stopped in front of a pale gray, anonymous and unmarked door with a fingerprint recognition pad next to it. Ross swiped his finger across it and opened the door to reveal a lift.

  “Only goes to the flats,” he said. “Mine and the spare one. They used to be for Jess and David and Kath and Jeff—Jeff and Jess are co-owners—but they’ve built houses on the grounds. I was glad to be given one of these when my lease ran out in town.”

  Shane went pale. “You really meant it when you said she doesn’t live here? Er, damn, I thought you were just being arsy. So will she even come here?”

  “If they get back from town.” Ross pressed the button to move the lift upwards and leaned on the wall. “Last time I looked, it seemed to be getting bad out there. They might not make it back.”

  He watched Shane via the mirrored wall as she interlaced her fingers together and moved them to enable herself to nibble on a fingernail.

  “You might be stuck here.”

  “And I might not.”

  “True. It’s in the lap of the gods, I guess.”

  He was sure she swore and said ‘bloody gods’, as the lift stopped and they got out.

  �
��Welcome to my humble abode.” Ross swung open the door marked with a simple ‘2’. “Chez Mackie.”

  Shane walked past him and into the lounge. The flat was simply furnished and he knew it had nothing of him stamped on it. It was supposed to be a stop-gap, but six months on, he accepted how much he preferred it to the one he had lived in previously. Maybe it was time to stop roaming and put down some roots? Add a picture or two, or a vase of flowers.

  “It’s a bit bare,” Shane said, confirming his thoughts. “Are you sure you live here?”

  “Yeah, and it sure is. It was supposed to be only ‘til I got a new flat in Glasgow. Then I realized how much I like living out here. There’s no sea like there is at home, but rivers, lochs and mountains are as good.”

  “I guess,” Shane said in a doubtful voice as she went to the window and rubbed a circle in the condensation there. Even with double glazing, it had steamed up a little. “But you can’t surf on Loch Lomond.”

  “True, but I waterski.”

  “Better than nothing then. Still, I reckon there’s plenty of wet stuff today though. It’s still snowing.” She wriggled her shoulders.

  The subbie blanket slid over them, and Ross moved swiftly to set it tighter around her. He peered past her and looked out at the monochrome landscape. From this angle, the trees were stunted, white tipped shapes and the difference between the sky and the land an indistinct blur. Snow was falling steadily, with no indication of stopping, and as the day moved on toward dusk, the light was even more abnormal than he’d ever seen. A storm was in the offing, and he knew for certain there would be no way of Shane leaving any time soon. He wasn’t sure if that thought pleased him or not.

  “Look, Shane, whatever you want to hope or believe, this weather is set in for the day. Where are you staying?”

  “The hotel in the village.”

  “I think maybe you’d best ring Elspeth at the hotel and tell her you’re here with me. Otherwise she’ll be calling for the mountain rescue to hunt for you.” He pulled the shutters over the chilly scene outside and put his hand in the hollow at the base of her spine to urge her toward the settee. “Mind you, it’d be an easy shout.”