Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Aye. See how quickly you’re remembering everything? Well done, you.”
He pulls a chair out and gestures for me to sit. My stomach rumbles with hunger when I smell the fragrant scent of freshly-baked bread.
“What time of day is it, anyway?”
“Evening,” he says. “On the third day after your attack.”
He lifts the lid on a large tray. My mouth waters. Two small bowls of stew sit beside thick, crusty bread and a crock of golden butter. The main course looks like creamy fish pie topped with mashed potatoes, roasted carrots on the side, and two generous helpings of apple cake topped with icing. Yum.
“Okay, wow, this looks good.”
“Remember,” he says with a teasing smile. “You’re a voracious eater.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” I say, tucking in. I could eat this entire tray and leave none for him.
We eat in silence until I lean back with a satisfied smile.
“Delicious.”
“Finish your veggies,” he says, pointing his fork at the carrots I left on my plate.
I frown at him. “What if I don’t want them?”
He chews then swallows. “Didn’t ask you if you wanted them. I gave you a reasonable portion. Sebastian says your medication without food will make you nauseous, and good, healthy food will help you heal more quickly.”
The highhanded instruction makes me angry. “Fuck Sebastian.”
“Aileen.” There’s warning in his voice.
“No, fuck him,” I say, pushing the plate away from me. “I may not remember everything, but I do know I wasn’t a pushover.”
He crosses his arms on his chest and gives me a look that makes me quake despite my bravado. “Perhaps I need to remind you, neither am I.”
Chapter 11
Cormac
My phone rings. I watch Aileen eating her food with a petulant look that would give a grade school brat a run for her money. She’s lucky I’m giving her a little space. She’s been through quite a fucking ordeal and I don’t want to be too overbearing, but at the same time, the quicker we establish our roles, the easier it’ll go.
I answer the phone and nod in approval. She rolls her eyes. My palm twitches.
It’s Keenan. “How’s Aileen?”
I grunt. “She’s good, I suppose. Bit of a brat at the moment.”
“Hey!” she protests.
Keenan chuckles. “Aye, but you know how to handle a brat.”
I look pointedly at her and say loud and clear, “I absolutely know how to handle a brat.” She pouts, and she’s fucking adorable.
“Sebastian says it’s good if she’s out of bed and getting some exercise. You didn’t marry a wallflower, so her returning to the natural state of things might be a good thing.”
“True.” I don’t tell him how I’m torn, though. I want to remind her who she is, but we’re still learning, still getting to know each other.
When I woke in the hospital wing and saw her beside me, hooked up to IV’s and beeping machines, her face pale and wan, it destroyed me. I wasn’t as badly injured as she was. I failed to protect her.
Sebastian was confident she’d wake up, but wasn’t sure of the extent of the damage to her brain. And now… Christ, now, I’m not so sure how to proceed.
Some women need a firm hand, and Aileen is one of them.
Keenan continues. “We aren’t sure who instigated the attack,” he says slowly, as if anticipating my response.
“How can we not fucking know? Had to be the Martins.” I’m so angry I want to hurl this phone across the room. Aileen watches me with interest, and it might be my imagination, but I think a shimmer of remembrance passes over her when I say the Martins.
“No, it doesn’t have to be the Martins,” Keenan says. “We called Mack Martin, and he was shocked to hear of the attack. Said her family wanted to know how she was doing.”
“Right,” I say with a derisive snort.
“Cormac,” Keenan says. “The Martins gave us the girl to keep order. Do you think they’d willingly jeopardize the peace we just established by attacking us not two days later?”
“And not hours after I whipped her brother’s arse?”
Keenan is silent for a moment. “You told me you didn’t think he’d retaliate.”
“I didn’t. But Christ, Keenan. Who else would?”
He sighs. “Lots of others. You know this. Listen, it’s been a long few days, and you—”
“Don’t fucking placate me.” Fuck his condescension.
His voice is tight and angry. “I might be your brother but I’m still your fucking Chief, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”
Christ, but he’s right. I sigh. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Keenan.”
“Now listen,” he continues. “We’ve a list of who it could be.”
Aileen gets up from her chair and stretches. The little cotton top she wears rises, revealing the sweet curve of her lower back. The image of bending her over while I lick that secret spot and finger her pussy distracts me. I don’t hear a goddamn word he says.