Only Yours.

3

3

Whisper was still on the floor of the limo when it came to a halt.

Cyrus shifted in his seat. “Everything of yours has been packed up and shipped to the McDade house,” her father said. “They own a townhouse in their neighborhood. You will go home with your husband tonight.”

“I figured that out all on my own,” she said, getting over the fog created by his hit.

The driver opened their door. Getting out of their way, he stepped aside; the move revealed a group of men loitering on the sidewalk. McDade men. Whisper didn’t have to be a genius to know that. Behind them was a restaurant, a homey looking, unremarkable establishment that she couldn’t remember ever visiting in the past.

The McDade men saw her too. Despite the passers-by and the noise of the vehicles on the street, she could tell that they’d stopped talking. Whisper wasn’t interested in their conversation and couldn’t have heard it anyway. Either they thought she had super hearing or their glaring was an attempt to intimidate her. Idiots. Being vigilant made sense, they didn’t have trust. An enemy was at their door. On the other hand, if they thought they could scare her, she’d stick with her label: idiots.

Cutting them some slack, Whisper considered that their silence might be something to do with seeing her sprawled on the floor of the car at her father’s feet. They couldn’t be shocked by the sight. The Dohertys treated their women with disdain and there was little chance the McDades didn’t do exactly the same.

Her father got out of the car and snapped his fingers at her. All Whisper could do was climb onto the seat and drag her fingers through her hair. When they caught on the knots, she enjoyed the sting in her scalp. Causing herself pain was a million times more satisfying than letting her father have the pleasure. So much of her life was out of her control that she clung to any glimmer of it.

Cyrus bent to grab her arm and pulled her out of the car. The men she’d seen before were gone, so at least the ogling was over; there was some solace in that.

“This is a happy occasion,” her father said, dragging her to the external stairs that led to the basement section of the restaurant. “Go in there, sit with your friends, and for God sake, behave… or you’ll get us all killed.”

Her father wasn’t the type to wilt in any room or scenario. Cyrus Doherty was made of steel. That said, the shootout had shaken everyone up. Their family had never been more vulnerable and although she had no idea how long the possibility of the alliance had been in the mix, the reality of it was still in its infancy.

The McDades weren’t going to put in much effort for the Dohertys until they proved their word was good. By going through with the wedding, Whisper had completed the first challenge. It definitely wouldn’t be the last she’d have to endure.

At the bottom of the stairs was a wooden door with a small glazed section. Next to that was a large picture window adorned with gold lettering that declared the place “Kitty’s.”

“Inside,” her father said, shoving her forward and grabbing the long brass handle to open the door in front of her.

Giving her no choice, Cyrus pushed her inside. The rumble of conversation dwindled and died. As those present assessed the Doherty interlopers, Whisper scanned the space. The large dim room had a bar to the right at the back and an empty stage to the left. Four square pillars equidistance from each other supported the floor above.

Two long, busy tables, stood far from each other with all the pillars between them, separating the families. The table closest to the door was full of what appeared to be McDade family members. On the furthest right of the pillars the other table was occupied by people familiar to her.

In between, in the middle of the pillars was a chasm of space. Maybe it was supposed to be a dance floor? Whisper doubted it. The stage was empty and she couldn’t hear a beat of music. More likely these two families just didn’t want to mix with each other.

She turned her chin toward her shoulder. “Great start to your alliance, Daddy, huh?”

Believing the families would ever be able to trust each other was insanity. That was her wedding reception, meant to be a time when they were building trust, and the two sides couldn’t even share a table. Urging her forward, her father took them past the end of the McDade table. Those around it turned to each other to mumble as she passed.

Yes, to them Whisper Doherty was a spectacle, but she couldn’t complain. The McDade side would be just as fascinating to her faction. Her father pushed her around the Doherty table with an urgency that made her deliberately slow. Offering waves and smiles to those she was happiest to see, Whisper wouldn’t be rushed. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people on that list. Really it only consisted of her girlfriends. They’d been arranged on the far sides of her two cousins. The empty space between was apparently reserved for her. Her father forced her into the seat flanked by her cousins. The ones who would never have been invited to something like this pre-bloodbath.

With her back to the wall, Whisper was in the middle of the length of the table. Cyrus planted her there between Caelan and Miles, her Uncle Dallin’s boys. The three had been promoted within the family since the shootout. Even without there being a discussion, Whisper knew her father resented the necessity of elevating his brother. Caelan and Miles loved their new positions of power, even if they were eager idiots sometimes.

Her girlfriends, Mariana and Paula had been put on either side of her cousins. Whisper would rather be sitting next to them, but the setup was no accident. Cyrus must have planned it. She couldn’t flirt with her cousins. No doubt they’d been given instructions to stop her from making any kind of scene as well.

Caelan was talking over her to his brother. Despite not acknowledging her, he at least had the presence of mind to grab one of the bottles of champagne from the table to pour her some alcohol.

Drinking from her flute, ignoring her babbling cousin, Whisper already wanted a way out. As she wondered how long the farce would go on before people started to disperse, she glanced up, past those at her table. At the other table, the eyes of the man from the altar were on her.

He sat in the position that mirrored hers. His back was to the stage and despite the hubbub at his table, he didn’t flinch. The shorter guy from the ceremony was at his side, talking, though probably not to his buddy because he wasn’t paying attention. Scrutinizing the McDade table, she counted only one woman. The pillars did obscure some of her view, but Whisper couldn’t recall seeing any other women during her initial scan from the threshold.

So, the McDades were a male clan, no shock there. Maybe the idea was to protect the females from her. Though Whisper didn’t know the specifics, no doubt her reputation preceded her. The McDades probably shared accounts of her family, just as hers did of theirs. Though there was always a chance a feeble woman such as herself didn’t feature in the tales.

Decoding his gaze at such a distance wasn’t possible. Whether he was judging her or lusting after her, she was oblivious, and didn’t much care that he was difficult to read. He was her husband, sure, but as far as she was concerned, they could maintain this same distance for the rest of their lives. Given his reputation for violence, if she was really lucky, widowhood may feature in her future. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

It was on the tip of Whisper’s tongue to ask her cousins if that was an easy thing to set up when her father rose from his seat at the top of the table. He raised a glass and didn’t do anything delicate like tap a spoon against the crystal. No, her Uncle Dallin took care of getting the room’s attention by calling out.

“Shut it! The lot of you bastards!”

Well, so much for the ladies in the room. Mariana and Paula were used to her family, and if the woman at the other table was a McDade, she’d be used to the same kind of language.

In credit to the room, everyone did quiet down. No one drew a weapon or responded with offence, they just looked to her father on his feet with his glass aloft.

It lowered in time with the start of his speech. “This is a historic day…” Cyrus began.

Whisper smiled. Anything that reminded her of just how important her father believed himself to be brought a smile to her face. It was just so ludicrous. He was a man, like any other. Thinking himself a God didn’t make him one. Though the element of irony in her silent mocking wasn’t lost on her. For most of her life, she’d believed him to be one. There was probably still some corner of her psyche that thought it could be true.

“Our two families have been at war for too long,” Cyrus continued. Whisper picked up her glass to drink, wishing for something stronger than champagne. “This union will bring us closer. We are one family now. Our interests are yours, and yours ours… Solidifying our alliance with this marriage will allow us to move forward. We will share our failures and our successes, which I’m sure will number many.”

It wasn’t exactly a typical father of the bride wedding reception speech. Whisper drained the last of her champagne and filled her glass with more. No one else at the table, or in the room, seemed to be drinking. She made her peace with her actions, figuring she had to catch up. The people at her reception might have been there for a while before the actual wedding party arrived. That was her excuse anyway.

“To the Dohertys and the McDades,” Cyrus said and raised his glass to drink.

The rest of the room drank too. Conversation resumed as Cyrus sat down again. Whisper swept a hand around her glass and gasped in a breath. Before she could stand up, both her cousins grabbed a wrist each, pinning her hands to the table.

“Your father doesn’t want you to speak,” Caelan said, leaning in at her side. “He thought you might try it.”

“It’s my wedding,” Whisper said. “I can do whatever I damn well please.”

The internal door next to the bar opened and a procession of servers came out to begin distributing food. The moment for speeches was over. She turned a glare to her father who was returning her ire.

Already Whisper knew it was going to be a long night and she doubted that signaled anything positive for her future.