Page 103 of Illicit Temptation

“Trace... When do you plan to talk to my father?” Finding out Kieran might have marriage plans already in place for me, I agree with Trace more than ever that my father’s word should be the final one on who I marry.

Or in this case, stay married to.

It hits me like a warm, fragrant breeze. I know for certain I want to stay married to Trace. But not in secret anymore. There’s a lot that Kieran will be unhappy about as far as me.

I’m going to buy Lagerfeld Events.

I’m not going to marry whoever the hell he planned for me.

And I’m going to confess that I’m in love with my bodyguard.

Whether or not we have children, whether I take steps to try to conceive, or we figure something else out, will be our business.

My name is Quinlan, and I’m ready to cross over and join that clan. That means Kieran no longer controls me.

I blow out a breath, wondering how the hell that will all fly.

Trace studies me, and I notice he hasn’t answered me about talking to my da. That strikes a nerve. Has he changed his mind?

Something’s not right. The air is charged with dread and hope feels like it’s fading. But why?

Trace pulls me into a shadow and grips my face. “I won’t lie. For the first time, I worry I... I might not be enough. In their eyes.”

“Don’t say that.” I tug on his jacket. “Do you promise me...”

“Promise what, princess?”

“That it doesn’t matter. What I told you about not giving you children. And that you’ll let me keep working.”

His height, his breadth, and his scent of raw male heat combine to bring out a fierce side to Trace I’d not seen before. “All that matters is that you’re happy, Shea. And all I want is to be a part of that.” Trace kisses me like a beast in heat.

I take his mouth with the same energy, feeling so raw and vulnerable. The walls threatening my freedom are closing in on me. Why, why are they so strong?

Trace’s lips leave my mouth and rest on my forehead. “I will fight for you, princess. No other man—”

“No other man.” A deep male voice coming from the back door breaches our bubble. “Interesting choice of words.”

That face, the broad shoulders, thick thighs, and square head have Trace gripping my arm to the point of pain. “What the fuck are you doing here, Faolan?”

“You remember me?” Dunbar’s warden comes out of the shadows.

He saw us kissing. The man who has killer guards in a prison where my brother sleeps every night saw me kissing my bodyguard.

“Get in the house, Shea-Lynne.” Trace steers me to the back door and whispers roughly, “Go to your bedroom and lock the door.”

HEART POUNDING, ANDworrying about Trace with that horrid man, I lose my way around the labyrinth of rooms. Extensions were added on in later years, making the floorplan a nuisance of a maze.

“There you are,me a stór.” My father’s voice stills me when I reach the base of the stairs.

Da calling me his treasure hits differently when my brothers say it. Deep inside, they mean it. Da? I’m not sure anymore.

“Da, I’m not feeling well. I’d like to go lie down.” I try to pass him, but he grips my arm with a stinging pressure that intensifies my feeling of dread. “Ouch, Da. That hurts.”

“When I tell you I need to speak to you, you listen, lass.” His stern tone sends a shockwave through me.

“Fine.” I swallow. “What do you need?”

“My office. Right now.” He lets go and signals for me to walk along the corridor that snakes around behind the stairs.

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