"Give her time," Catherine advised.

"Keep her tied up is more like it." He scowled. "She needs a good hiding and to be locked in a dungeon somewhere."

"As I asked Sinead, what would you have, Garmhac?" she asked, calling him 'grandson of the heart'. "There's a reason you've not married."

He remembered the loss, the anguish. He'd given his heart to her, imagined a future together. "Maeve's betrayal."

"Posh. More likely you haven't found a woman who challenged you," Catherine observed with surprising insight.

He could always count on his grandmother to tell the truth.

"No doubt you're wary, as you have a right to be. But you've not got a hardened heart. You've had a host of women since Maeve. And honestly, my darling child, I think you and Maeve would have divorced afore now. You were smitten. But she ultimately wouldn't have been what you wanted."

He winced, not because she was brutal in her directness, but because she was probably right.

His grandmother was correct on another point as well. The O'Malley woman fascinated him. She tied him up just as surely as he'd bound her the night before. Her responses were passionate and uninhibited. He couldn't think of much beyond shoving his cock inside her while she screamed his name. "If you'll excuse me?" he said to his grandmother.

She placed her hand on his. "It could be that you'll love this one, Jack. Take her away. See what happens."

Banshees, curses and love were for others less fanciful than he. But all that aside, what harm would there be in joining the clans? From a pragmatic approach, his grandmother's argument was solid enough. Their lands adjoined each other. Both families would benefit from joint ownership. And if there were no more bad blood, that was simply a bonus.

"Go to her," Catherine told him. "Do not let her get away."

He excused himself and headed upstairs.

He heard the water running in the shower, which meant she'd followed his order to be naked.

He moved towards the bathroom, realising she'd also left the door open.

His cock hardened. Having this woman obey him so completely affected him in a way he'd never experienced before.

He braced his shoulder against the doorjamb. Shamelessly he watched her. Even though the glass was wavy, she was a picture of loveliness.

She poured shampoo into her palm then lathered her hair.

Her movements were graceful and erotic in their innocence.

He could think of nothing but bending her over the bed, tying her hands behind her back and taking her from behind.

After she rinsed her hair, she looked over at him.

To her credit, she didn't change what she was doing. She soaped her body then used the handheld showerhead to rinse.

Steam billowed over the top of the door and fogged the edges of the mirror. It gave the small room an even greater air of intimacy.

"Shave your pussy," he told her. "I want you smooth and bare. Always."

He watched, aroused, as she did.

When she turned off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack. She slid open the glass door and stepped onto a mat.

"Allow me," he offered.

She moistened her lower lip but stood still.

His grandmother was right about one thing. He did want a woman who challenged him. And one who alternately challenged and surrendered was irresistible.

He towel-dried her hair then gently wiped her face and neck.

"Jack..."

"Sir," he corrected her. "Or Master, if you prefer."

"I don't."

"I do. And I'll have you calling me Master as you come."

She didn't answer. Maybe she was smart enough not to argue.

He moved the towel across her chest.

Her nipples pebbled, whether from his touch or from the chill of cooling water, he had no idea.

He wiped the moisture from her breasts. Then he moved lower, across her ribs, the alluring swell of her belly. "Spread your legs." She followed his orders. He dried her bare cunt, then the inside of her toned thighs. He knelt in front of her to dry her lower legs. And since he was there, he placed a kiss on her pubis.

"Jack..."

"Tell me what you want. Be specific. Be graphic."

"I want..."

"Tell me."

"Lick my pussy."

"How?"

She dug her hands into his hair. "What do you mean?"

"Lick me gently, Sir. Lick me hard, please, Sir," he coached. "Lick me gently until I start to come then bite my swollen clit. Or maybe slap my cunt as hard as you can then suck my clit until I scream."

"-lick," she said.

"Tell me within three seconds, wench, or you can get dressed."

He saw the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage.

"No embarrassment," he reminded her.

She looked down at him. He held her gaze captive.

The woman might refuse to marry him, might say she didn't want anything to do with him, but her body betrayed her. As for him, he was simply a man, a Dom. No matter what existed between them, he couldn't not give her what she craved, what they both craved.

"I shouldn't..."

On his knees, one palm pressed to the small of her back, he waited, allowing the seconds to pass. He wouldn't force her, but he knew she wanted this as much as he did.

She swallowed hard before saying, "Lick me gently, then slap my cunt, then suck my clit until I come."

His cock tightened. His pulse thundered in his ears. Having her be so responsive thrilled him. "Sir," he added.

"Sir," she repeated.

His cock demanded immediate release. Her voice, low and sultry, inflamed his ardour.

He swept her from the floor and carried her into the next room where he placed her on the edge of the bed. "Stay where you are and lie back. Keep your legs apart." When he had her positioned as he wanted, knees spread, he told her, "Place your hands beneath the small of your back. If you can't control yourself, if you try to shield your pussy from my slaps, you'll be tied. Unless you want to be tied?"

She shook her head.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please leave my arms loose, Sir."

He knelt before her and placed his hands on her inner thighs to keep her legs apart. Then he gently tongued the length of her pussy. He carefully watched her reactions to know where, exactly, he elicited the sweetest response.

He gently laved her clit and noticed that she thrashed her head back and forth. He grinned.

He increased the pressure and the tempo then pulled back to spank her cunt.

Shockingly, she screamed out an orgasm.

He'd been prepared to play with her, torment her for long minutes, but the perfect little sub had shattered in only seconds, and from a simple slap. He waited.

"Thank you, Sir," she managed.

He considered giving her more. But he liked her a little needy. "Your pussy is beautifully red and swollen," he said. "Put on a skirt and your T-shirt and a pair of shoes and socks. Nothing more."

She struggled into a sitting position.

"You've been kidnapped," he reminded her. "If you think I'm letting you go that easily, you're wrong."

"You're going to forcefully keep me here?" she demanded.

Her eyes were a curious mixture of heat and anger. And if he didn't keep control of himself, he'd sink his dick in her to the hilt. "I'm going to try and convince you to willingly marry me."

"Really? What's to stop you grabbing me by the hair and dragging me down the aisle?"

He stood. "Nothing at all. We have a family chapel and a priest. Would you like me to do that?"

"Gobshite."

"I'll take that insult as a rejection of my proposal."

She wrapped her arms around her middle.

"We'll be leaving in my car," he informed her. "Liam packed your bag while we had breakfast. Now, it's your choice of how you get in my car. Fully dressed and willing. Or I can carry you naked. While he was here, Liam left us a gag if you choose the second option." He crossed the room, took her case from the wardrobe, and picked up the gag that Liam had left with it.

"You-"

"Would," he countered, making a show of pocketing the gag. "With my grandmother's blessing."

In the end, unfortunately, she chose to wear clothes and walk to the car of her own free will while he dealt with their cases.

His grandmother saw them off as if they were going on holiday.

"This is under duress," Sinead said.

"Blacken his eye, then."

He drove to the shore and met up with Logan, a manservant and boat pilot. Jack had rung Logan earlier and arranged for the man to ferry them across Clew Bay.

The weather was nippy, as he expected, and Logan pulled out a blanket. Jack wrapped it around her shoulders. "You could have let me put on a jacket."

"Then your nipples wouldn't have been so hard."

"Male logic?"

"What other kind is there?"

"Your woman is beautiful," Logan told Jack.

"Aye. She is."

He offered her a glass of wine that she turned down. Fine with him. He preferred to play with totally sober subs.

When they landed, he helped her ashore, not at all disappointed when the wind licked at the hem of her skirt and made it ride just a little higher.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Your temporary home."

"Is the island inhabited?"

He shook his head.

Sinead wrapped her arms around her middle to ward off the afternoon chill. Wind whipped through the trees and spat sea water at them.

He took off his jacket and helped her into it, surprisingly, ridiculously delighted in how big it was on her. "It will be just us here. Peace. Quiet. Solitude. And your fantasies coming true. Including the ones with Logan."