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Authors: Raven McAllen

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Secrets Remembered

BOOK: Secrets Remembered
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Table of Contents

Legal Page

Title Page

Book Description

Dedication

Trademarks Acknowledgement

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

New Excerpt

About the Author

Publisher Page

A Totally Bound Publication

Secrets Remembered

ISBN #
978-1-78430-324-2

©Copyright Raven McAllan 2014

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2014

Edited by Jennifer Douglas

Totally Bound Publishing

 

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

 

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

 

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

 

Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

 

Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

 

 

Warning:

 

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
2.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diomhair

 

SECRETS REMEMBERED

 

 

Raven McAllan

 

 

 

Book three in the Diomhair series

What comes first—your happiness or your job?

Ailsa McLagan is sent undercover to investigate possible shady dealings at the private BDSM club Diomhair. The last thing she expects is to be confronted by one of the Masters there. Not only does he make her want to sink to her knees, but he seems to see straight through her disguise, too.

Aidan is instantly attracted to the clueless sub he stumbles upon. Even though he knows she is hiding her true identity, he can’t help but push her to discover her limits, and introduce her to the delights of subbing to him.

Scared by the intensity of her reaction, Ailsa runs and all seems lost.

When the truth is revealed, can they work towards a true Dom/sub relationship, even though theirs started on a lie?

 

 

Dedication

 

 

To Jenny, who sees my mistakes and sorts them, and to Paul, who has to tame the dust bunnies.

 

 

Trademarks Acknowledgement

 

 

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

 

Doc Martens: R. Griggs Group Ltd

Ducati: Ducati Motor Holding S.p.A

Honda: Honda Motor Company, Ltd.

“No one puts Baby in a corner” (
Dirty Dancing
): Vestron Pictures

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

The thought of the luxury of an evening to himself wasn’t lost on Aidan Jefferies. He stretched back in his office chair and wriggled his tight shoulders. He needed a ten-mile run or a massage. Or a good workout with a sub. No not
a
sub,
his
sub, he corrected himself.

As he was damned sure he’d not fit time for the run into his schedule in the near future, and was currently sub-less without anyone on the horizon to change that, he’d have to sort out a massage sometime soon. He needed to de-kink. Well not de-kink exactly. He sniggered to himself. There was about a cat in hell’s chance of that, but definitely de-knot his muscles. However, not that evening. He intended those hours to be lazy, kick back and relax ones. No massage, no companion, no thinking about work, only chilling.

Aidan glanced at the clock. Three hours and counting before he could lock his office door, get on his motorbike and ride the seven miles home. He checked the specification he’d written up, pressed send on his computer and made a note of what he’d done. There was nothing outstanding or urgent that had to be addressed there and then. His mind made up, Aidan turned on his intercom.

“Jacks?”

“She’s left for hot sex with her man. This is a recording.” His PA’s voice came over the line. “All queries can be sorted tomorrow. If she can walk.” The staccato voice stopped. “Hi, Ade, what’s up?” They didn’t stand on ceremony.

“Not a lot. Just get as much done as you can so we can clock off early. I reckon we need it.”

“Too right. Give me time to beautify myself, eh? Shugie’s home tonight.” Shugie, otherwise known as Hugh, was her husband. He worked away a lot of the time. “Ah shit, hold on, that’s the phone. Let me get rid of whoever it is. How dare they ring when we’re going to dog off?” The intercom went dead.

Aidan shook his head. Dog off? That was an expression he hadn’t heard for years. Why not skiving or playing hooky? She’d never change. Aidan took a swig of water and contemplated the evening ahead. He’d earmarked a steak and a good robust red wine for dinner, along with a gritty drama he’d recorded a few nights previously. He might even stretch to a sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Pure pig-out indulgence. Then it was going to be slouch on the sofa time, and watch hot women and steely-eyed men dice with death, and each other. Right until the credits rolled on a satisfactory ending, be it happy or not.

He wasn’t needed that evening at Diomhair, a private BDSM club based in a rebuilt Scottish castle not far from where he lived. It was the place where he worked for pleasure and not necessity. Diomhair was proving to be very popular, and he was more than glad to lend a hand when necessary, over and above his allocated shifts, both as a dungeon master and a Dom. He blessed the day he’d discovered it and its owners. They had become more than good friends. In fact, they were, he acknowledged, a lifeline at times, and he never minded pulling an extra shift or doing a nice knife or wax demonstration for them.

The phone rang and he sighed. Obviously Jackie hadn’t managed to fob off whoever was on the line. He hoped it wasn’t going to stop them leaving early. Why did the ring sound ominous? Was it because a phone call might delay that perfect moment when he felt like a school kid playing hooky? Why it should hit him like that he had no idea. After all, Aidan was his own boss, and only had himself and Jackie to consider. She deserved time off. Over all the long and lean months she’d given him her support, and on more than one occasion had provided his lunch and told him to hold onto her wages. As she said to him, very firmly, she worked to provide the icing on the cake, not the bread and butter of life.

She was a godsend. Now their accounts were firmly out of the red and Aidan had more work than one man could easily handle. If Jackie wouldn’t take a step upward, and she said she wouldn’t, then he needed to hire someone else to help with the workload. Whoever would have thought his little advertising firm would take off so well?

The phone rang again, breaking into his reverie. He’d worry about the need for more staff later. For now he’d answer the damned thing.

He picked up the instrument and enjoyed the feel of the soft, tactile handset under his fingers. He was pleased he’d followed Jackie’s advice and gone for a reconditioned early 1950s one. It was fun and had so much more soul than a modern, hands-free piece of plastic. As he listened to the old-fashioned bell—no silly pop tunes or metallic notes—he wondered who Jackie had felt should be put through.

“Aidan, it’s your father on the line,” Jackie said in a worried voice. It made him wonder what tactics his father had tried on his assistant this time to try to make her tell tales. “He sounds sort of annoyed.”

“Nothing new there then.” Aidan began to tidy the mess known as his pencil box. Why on earth was there half a tin of mints and three vouchers, all out of date, for ten percent off at his local Italian restaurant amongst the pens, pencils and felt tips?

Jackie groaned and the noise reverberated down the line. “No and this time I’ve upset him good and proper because I said a five grand bribe was chicken feed, and I got that as a bonus each month. I suggested he throw in tassel swinging as an incentive.”

She didn’t get anything like the amount she’d teased his father with, but he knew that sort of talk would really piss his parent off.

“Mind you, he wasn’t pleasant when I answered the call, and he’s a lot less so now, than he was. Sorry, you’ll no doubt get the flack, but he’d make a saint swear. You know sometimes I wish he’d show up here. Even if it was just so I could laugh at him. How he could have helped produce you, I have no idea. Are you sure your mum didn’t play away or you were adopted?”

Aidan laughed as he reckoned she’d meant him to. “No such luck. I look like my grandpa on Dad’s side. Put him through, Jacks, and then, sod it, we’re going to shut up shop and have an early finish. We deserve it.”

“Too right, and like I said, I’ll have a man around tonight. Shugie’s due back at eight. That’ll give me time to, er, prepare.”

She gave her smoky, dirty laugh. One that never ceased to amaze Aidan, as she was adamant the only thing she’d ever smoked was not nicotine, was illegal and that it was only once. She confessed she’d been sick as a dog, and from then on got her highs from music and dancing.

“Dinner,” she added. “Oh, and dessert.”

The inference in her voice lightened the black mood the information regarding the caller had given him.

“My father?” Aidan prompted, even though he’d rather have a root canal treatment than deal with the man.

“Shit, forgot about his arsiness still holding on. Do you want me to buzz in after two?” Jackie asked him.

Bless her. “Yeah, but make it five minutes or he’ll not have vented his spleen. Either he’ll be back on the line again, or take it out on mum long distance. After all, I don’t have to listen properly. I can put him on loudspeaker and tidy up around him.”

“Okay, good luck.”

He didn’t need Jackie’s intervention this time. His father’s demand for him to ‘Give up that stupid perverted lifestyle you live, and come back here’ he responded to with a flat no. After a few pithy swear words and a ‘You’ll never get anywhere without my backing’ speech that Aidan knew word for word, his father issued a threat.

“I’ll make sure you stop that crap. No son of mine is going to be a pervert. You tell those weirdoes to watch out. Either they get rid of you, or I’ll get rid of them.” The line went dead as he ended the call.

BOOK: Secrets Remembered
4.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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