Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
She had to wonder if Sorley had known and it had been a part of his deliberate cruelty toward her. It had been his son and her husband who had fallen afoul of him, not her, but she was the one paying the price for his betrayal. Didn’t women always suffer the consequences of their mate’s actions? She wasn’t sure if it were true for everywhere, but it was certainly true in the world she’d grown up in.
She finished drying her hair and got dressed before going to the kitchen to check on the stew she’d been making. It was nearly ready. She popped the dough she’d prepared from her mother’s recipe into the oven to bake and returned to do her makeup. Thor, the ridiculously named dog, lay on the floor watching her with a certain disinterest. Based on the amount of makeup Hannah had been wearing over the few days she’d spent with them prior to their departure, Niamh guessed he was used to spending a lot of time waiting on a woman to get her face together.
“You’re not very impressed, are you, big guy?”
He answered her question by closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. She chuckled and went to check on the food. It was ready, and it smelled delicious. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, but it would have to wait. First things first.
She ladled a good portion of it into a stoneware serving pot that looked as if it had never been put to use before. Either there was no cooking that went on in this house or their usual cook or housekeeper was very thorough in her scrubbing. She put the top on it and sliced up half the bread, wrapping the latter in a colorful napkin to put in the breadbasket she also found at least mostly unused.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the two, balancing the bread basket on top, and headed out the front door. Her heart was palpitating like mad as she crossed the street and rang his front bell, the dishes cradled in her other arm. She considered that he might not be home as she shifted the still very warm pot back over to hold the handles in both hands. Then, the door opened, and there he stood, looking like a fucking Adonis.
Whereas she’d only gotten a partial look at him earlier through the cracked door she’d opened to him, now he was in full view, shirtless and glorious. His almost golden chest hair gave way on either side to tatted arms, a full sleeve of ancient Celtic symbols on one side, and a simple crest on the other side.
She’d seen the crest before, but not on a person. There had been only pictures of it, all that remained of a once-great bear clan that had ruled the streets of Dublin, by all accounts men who could be violent when necessary, but also fair. She didn’t know how much of their heritage was true and what was legend, but she was aware of what kind of man she was dealing with here.
She shook herself out of the brief trance, realizing she was gawking at his physique. A warm flush spread involuntarily up her face as she caught herself and refocused her attention on what she had come here for. Instead, he cut her off before she could say anything.
“Nice to see you found some clothes,” he growled.
“Aye, that I did. I also found a wee peace offering.”
“Peace offering? Were we at war?” he asked.
“I hardly think I’d make much of an opponent, but we maybe got off on the wrong foot, I believe. If we’re going to be neighbors for a bit, we should at least be civil.”
“I don’t need to be civil to the neighbors. You could have asked James and Hannah about that and saved yourself some time,” he replied, closing the door in her face.
She stood there for a moment, astounded. How fucking rude could a guy be? She started to leave but then decided against it. Shifting the pot to one side, she rang the doorbell again. It took him a while to answer. She imagined him standing behind the door, just looking out at her through the peephole in amusement.
“You’ve got some neck on ya,” she announced when he opened it.
“And you’ve got quite the gob on you,” he replied.
“Listen, I made far too much stew and I made fresh wheaten bread. I thought I would share. Surely you miss proper Irish food in this place?”
“Not especially. I’ve been here so long, I hardly remember most Irish dishes, and you’ve not been here long enough to miss them, I’m guessing. I really don’t need you coming over and trying to smooth things over with me.”
“Perhaps, but here I am with it, and you might as well take it for your tea. You don’t look like you go around skipping any meals.”