Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“You’re not fine, lass,” he says sternly, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. “But you will be. And tonight, when I come back to you, I’ll make it better.”
I swallow. “I trust that you will,” I say with as much courage as I can muster. “Now, go, Keenan. Do what you have to. And come back to me.”
He closes his eyes while drawing in a breath, then exhales with a sigh. Bringing his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “I’ll make you happy you said yes.”
And then his mouth’s on mine in a kiss too brief, before he’s handing me off to his brothers. It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t send guards, but his own flesh and blood to watch over me. In these circumstances, he doesn’t trust anyone more than Cormac and Nolan, and it pleases me somehow. These men are to be my brothers as well. Cormac stands on my left and Nolan to my right as they walk me back to the bedroom.
I forget how big Cormac is, all burly and bearded, until he has to duck to get into the building. He’s a gentle giant, though, this one. I heard him plea for the innocence of the boy Keenan’s to teach. And though I know he can be firm and unyielding, the man’s got a soft spot.
Nolan’s got a twinkle in his eyes when he opens the door for me and ushers me in.
“You look a bit shell-shocked,” he says. “Could use a bevvie.”
“You get her plastered, he’ll kick yer ass,” Cormac warns.
Oh, dear. They want me to drink with them.
“You get me plastered, he’ll kick my arse,” I retort, which makes both the men burst into raucous laughter.
“There’s a world ‘a difference between tipsy and banjaxed,” Nolan says with a smile.
“And you’ve got that world in your pocket, aye?” Cormac says.
We’re back at the room, and I’m feeling suddenly exhausted. “How long do you think he’ll be?”
“Good long while,” Nolan says, pulling up a chair and taking a flask out of his pocket. “Drink up, girlie. He won’t mind you takin’ the edge off.” His green eyes twinkle at me, and he pushes the tufts of blond hair off his forehead.
Maybe he has a point. Maybe it’ll be good to “take the edge off.”
I reach for the flask, open it, and take a long pull. Oh my, I’m not prepared for liquid fire. I gasp and sputter, and in a very unladylike manner, spew the stuff all over the room. My throat burns, and flames lick at my chest.
“Oh!” I cough and wheeze. “Goodness!”
“It’s goodness alright.” Nolan slaps his leg and guffaws, but Cormac’s concerned.
“Christ, Nolan,” he says, his dark brows drawing together. “Keenan’ll kill you if you hurt her.”
“Hurt her? I’m givin’ her a taste of drink is all. Didn’t know she’d suck it down and near choke.”
Cormac pats my back with concern. “Y’alright?”
I try to sit up primly and wipe my hand across the back of my mouth. I’m not going to let one stupid encounter with alcohol dissuade me from learning how to do this right. I’m going to be the wife of the Chief. “Let’s try that again.”
Nolan grins. “Now easy, girl,” he says. “Little goes a long way, aye?”
I nod. “Aye.” I take a small sip, letting the slightly sweet, bracing liquid seep into my mouth before I swallow. It travels in a trail of heat down to my chest, and I sigh. It is nice. I feel warmed through and invigorated. Nodding, I take another sip, then another.
“Easy, there,” Cormac says, gently taking the flask out of my hand. “Remember that line between tipsy and banjaxed? Tiny thing like you’ll get knocked on yer arse in minutes, drinking like that.”
I nod sagely. I feel somehow braver and more knowledgeable. “Very wise, Cormac. Very wise.”
I’m not so sure why both of them are hiding smiles, but I see them.
I sit back on the bed, kick off my shoes, and sigh.
“What will they do with the men they brought back?”
“You don’t wanna know that, girl,” Nolan says, taking a pull from the flask that would knock me on my backside for a week. He sighs in contentment, leans back, and laces his fingers at the back of his head.
“Aye,” Cormac agrees. “What goes on behind closed doors is best staying behind those doors.”
“They won’t come out,” I say, trying to face the truth with bravery. Nolan looks to Cormac, and they don’t answer.
“Let’s pass the time telling her about Keenan,” Nolan says with a grin. Cormac smiles back, pulls a chair out beside his brother, turns it around and straddles it.
“Now yer talkin’.”
We talk easily, while they share stories of their youth. They tell me of their travels, their schooling, how Keenan was the star football player and all the girls would pine for him, how he’d have one girl at the front door and one at the back and Nolan would manage to sneak one of them away. How they snuck out of school to party and how Malachy caught them red-handed. How Keenan, as eldest, would boss them around and how they’d play tricks on him in retaliation, how the three of them got into a fight and knocked Maeve’s rocking chair straight through the living room window and spent all summer earning money to pay back the repair.