KiltedForPleasure by Melissa Blue Page A

he appeared unfazed. The problem was she recognized the intensity in his stare. This wouldn’t end well.

    “Stay down, you idiot,” Victoria urged Bobbie. “He came in spoiling for a fight and you gave him a good excuse. Sit and apologize to Davina. If not, she just might encourage him to hit you harder this time.”

    Bobbie spat out blood near her feet. “Fuck you, lassie.”

    Victoria huffed. Some people. “Well, I tried,” she said without an ounce of remorse.

    Callan stepped around her fully. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like money changed hands between many patrons right before Callan grabbed Bobbie by the collar and dragged him outside. Some people had no shame and followed them. She turned to Davina, her head still reeling at how fast things had turned to shit.

    The younger woman laughed. “You tried?”

    “I don’t condone violence, but he planned to call me a cunt.” A crowd grew right by the windows to watch the events transpiring outside. Only a small vindictive part of her wanted to watch too. She sighed. “Tell Baird I’m going up to eat. I don’t think I want to know how it all ends.”

    Davina’s brows rose. “You don’t want a pint instead?”

    She glanced down at her tingling fingers. Adrenalin and booze had turned the tips red. She winced. “Best if I don’t.”

    Davina sobered for a moment. “Bobbie has a head like a brick. He gets into it with someone at least once a week for his mannish behavior.”

    That news didn’t surprise her. “And here I thought I was special.”

    The younger woman pursed her lips, suddenly looking much older than her twenties. “You know the last time Callan clocked a manky bastard for saying something untoward?”

    Don’t ask. Don’t care. “When?”

    “Never. He usually fights with his cousins and that’s about it.”

    “Fuck me,” she muttered low enough so the other woman couldn’t hear her.

    Thankfully, another customer had flagged down Davina. Taking full advantage of the unexpected reprieve, Victoria made her way up to Baird’s flat and let the events of the day add up. Cotton may have filled her head but there was no doubt her brain still worked. Earlier she’d been too wrapped up in her thoughts to see the truth—this was all part of Papa Baird’s plan.

    He had made sure to call Callan to imply she was sad and willing to fall into the Baird’s whiskey like a fish needing water. Baird knew his patrons, knew their seats and had made sure Victoria sat next to the only person in the pub who would step out of line.

    Most importantly, Baird knew his boys. Callan was…temperamental. He would have had hours to stew on his drive up here to save the Yank . The Yank who had avoided him for days. She slammed Baird’s door and stomped to the kitchen because she was daft. To be fair to herself, Baird had years to hone his cunning nature.

    Victoria took comfort in the fact his flat was clean. Not quite as pristine as the pub but enough so she could take the solace in the quiet before the storm hit. She pulled off a clean kitchen towel from the oven and threw some ice into it for a makeshift ice pack. Then she waited.

    Since she’d caught onto Baird’s schemes, Callan would know she was upstairs, waiting for him, because this was what the whole day had been leading up to. Her being forced to look in the mirror, to face the woman who just might like being spanked. Papa Baird wouldn’t know that but maybe the man could sense the shift within her.

    Until that moment came, she blanked her mind, prepped some tea and heated up one of the many casseroles she’d made for Baird. By the time Callan strolled into the flat, the ice had melted enough to make it perfectly cold. He sat down at the table without a word and looked at her.

    Other than the small cut on his chin, Callan’s face bore no sign of a fistfight. His hands had taken the brunt of the beating. The knot in her stomach she hadn’t acknowledged loosened with the