Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“A thirsty broad,” someone called. I forced a tight smile, playing along as much as my churning gut allowed. If I wanted to gather information and not just wait on Lorcan’s gracious tidbits about Imogen, his men liking me would come in handy.
Seamus filled my glass again, and this time I waited for Lorcan to raise his glass. “To my fiery Irish bride, Aislinn Killeen. May our bond bring luck upon our families.”
I couldn’t read his voice, but for a crazy moment I wondered if maybe not all of Lorcan’s reasons to marry me were bad.
Everyone emptied their glasses, and so did I, even if my throat still burned furiously from the first drink. My eyes watered and my body flushed with heat as the alcohol traveled through my system.
Lorcan watched me with a hint of amusement. One by one, Lorcan’s men walked off, giving us privacy. Lorcan came very close, so close I could smell the metallic scent of blood on him. “You should start looking for a dress. I have no intention of waiting. I won’t give you any time to run away.”
“I won’t run,” I said firmly, which wasn’t even a lie. At least, until I knew Imogen was safe.
“How reasonable of you,” he said, his dark eyes holding onto mine with an intensity that made me forget everything around us for a moment. Luckily the scent of blood was so potent it catapulted me back to the present, reminding me of my soon-to-be-husband’s bloody nature.
Up until a few minutes ago, I’d been wary about Lorcan, maybe even a little scared, but after the display I just watched I was positively terrified of being alone with him again. I couldn’t imagine he had any plans to become a decent husband.
On the car ride back to Gulliver’s home—Lorcan had refused to let us take a taxi—, my uncle in his most soothing voice said, “You made the only possible choice, Aislinn.”
“If there’s only one choice, it’s not really a choice.”
When my phone rang with a familiar Irish number, I stifled a grin. The old man. Of course, he’d already found out. My men were loyal to me but many of them were also loyal to my father. One of them had obviously taken it upon himself to inform my father of the upcoming nuptials. There was hardly another reason why he’d call, especially not given the timing.
“Father,” I said. “The manor must be burning for you to call.”
“I’d call the fire brigade if the manor was burning, or Balor. He didn’t leave the country,” he rumbled.
Balor wasn’t the only one who hadn’t left, but it was pointless to mention this fact to my father. His oldest son, his successor, had always been and would always be my father’s greatest pride.
I didn’t point out that someone needed to lead the business over here, that it was the very reason I was here. I doubted Dad missed me very often, if at all, so living across the big pond shouldn’t have soured his mood.
“For years, I presented women to you, all of them Irish, beautiful and with an excellent pedigree, but now I hear you got engaged without even consulting with me about your future bride.”
The heavy note of disappointment in his voice wasn’t news and it hardly left an impact on me anymore. The days in which I’d thirsted for my father’s approval were long gone.
“I’ll have to share a bed and my life with this woman, so you should be happy I found someone at all.”
“I’m more concerned about the reason for your choice,” he drawled. Happiness wasn’t in Dad’s standard repertoire anyway, not anymore. “The name Killeen leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Are you sure you can control the girl?”
“I have absolutely no doubt.”
“That’s what my brother thought with the mother and look where it got him. Killeen and Devaney … it’s bad blood I can tell you.”
“Dad, please don’t start with your superstitions. You know I don’t believe in this—”
Nonsense.
My father and I have had many disagreements over the years but I wouldn’t disrespect him.
“Regardless of my stance on a marriage with a Killeen, what is this nonsense I hear about marrying her within a fortnight? And in America no less!”
“Considering how flighty Killeens tend to be, I prefer an earlier wedding, Dad. I’m sure you understand.”
“What I understand is that you’re still acting like a boisterous teenager despite your age. Some decisions should not be rushed, and weddings are one of them. If your mother were still alive—” The heavy note of sadness in Dad’s voice triggered my own but I shoved it down. Mum had been dead for five years. There had been time for mourning and sadness but that had passed.
“But she’s not,” I said quietly.
“She’s not,” Dad agreed and a thick silence fell between us. After a couple of minutes, Dad cleared his throat. “You’ll have to celebrate your wedding again in Ireland, on our estate as all Devaneys in history have done. It’s tradition and you won’t be the first to break with it.”