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)
“Your husband will be arriving shortly,” Keenan says. “You’ll be cleaned up before you’re presented to him.”
Aileen still holds her head high. She doesn’t make eye contact with Keenan, or Martin, or any of the other soldiers who stand and witness her being handed off, but keeps her gaze transfixed, her eyes on something in the distance. I tear myself away, turning back to a changing room on the main floor where I’ve left my clothing.
Though I stepped in to be sure that none of them touched her, she’ll know I was the man who whipped her. And part of me is pleased at that.
After I dress, I go to the large room where both my men and the Martins are assembled. A small area’s been prepared for us to take our vows. My mother waits at the front, standing beside Caitlin, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. Not yet. I wonder if she knows what I did today.
Minutes pass. No Aileen. Though logically I know she’s likely being prettied up by her mother or other clan women, I won’t rest easy until I see her again. Until I cart her home and make her mine. Until I get her off this godforsaken property and onto mine.
I find Keenan at the front, beside Father Finn, our parish priest and today’s presider. My father’s younger brother, he’s aged in recent months, his gray hair thinner, his eyes lined with wrinkles.
Keenan nods to me. “She’s a brave one, Cormac,” Keenan says. “I’ll give her that.”
“She headstrong and wily as well.”
His lips twitch. “Aye. You’d do well not to lose that cane.”
I snort, grateful for a chance to laugh. Today’s been bullshite. “Aye.”
“Lucky bastard,” Nolan says out of the side of his mouth, standing beside Keenan.
I grunt at him, silencing him. “The girl’s to be my wife in minutes. Shut yer fucking gob.”
His eyes twinkle, but he obliges by shutting his fucking gob.
I tap my foot and check my watch. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Fifteen fucking minutes.
Martin’s getting restless, pacing near the cluster of chairs opposite the podium where Father Finn waits.
“Where the fuck is she?” I ask out of the side of my mouth.
“They’re gettin’ her pretty’s all,” Keenan says, but the grooves on his forehead furrow.
“Who’d you give her to?” I ask.
“Her mam,” Keenan says. “Relax.”
One of Martin’s men suddenly turns, yanks the handle of the door, and leaves. I look to Keenan, then Nolan. What the fuck is that about?
When we’ve waited twenty-five minutes, I’ve had enough.
“Bring her, Martin.” He jumps at the sound of my voice and swivels to look at me from his pacing. “I don’t fucking care if she’s ready or not.”
“She’s coming,” he says. “Stay patient.”
“I’m fresh out of patience.”
Several of his men stiffen, and one has the nerve to touch the butt of his pistol.
“Keep your goddamn knickers on,” I tell them. “I’m not going to kill him. Not yet, anyway. But I came here for a reason, and I’ve no more patience. If you don’t—”
The door swings open. The room falls into silence. An older woman appears in the doorway. I wonder if this can be Aileen’s mam. She looks older than Aileen, of course, her blonde hair silvery gray at the temples. And like her daughter, she sports a fucking bruise I can see even beneath her makeup.
Goddamn motherfucking Martins. We’re ruthless men, and I won’t deny that. We’re not above disciplining a lass in our charge. Clearly. But goddamn it, my father would’ve castrated a man who abused a woman in our company, and Keenan would do the same. We were taught to respect our mam, to respect women, to provide for and take care of them.
Never, never to abuse them.
“We’re ready,” she says, turning to face me. “You’re her betrothed, are you?”
I don’t trust this woman. There’s something about her that’s slippery, like she’s donned this demeanor just for me.
“Aye.”
She takes in a deep breath, then releases it, when a voice I recognize comes from behind her.
“Can we skip the formalities and get this over with?”
For one brief moment, so brief I almost miss it, the woman’s eyes turn snakelike, her lips thin, and her nostrils flair. “Of course, dear,” she says. “Come in.”
I stop thinking for a moment. I can’t reason or speak. Aileen’s entered the room, and she’s fucking stunning. Clad in a dress with lace and pearls, it hugs her svelte figure, accentuating her curves and beauty. Her golden hair’s tucked up onto her head in little ringlets, a few fetching curls gracing her forehead, and a small veil of sorts is pinned to her curls.
This is no radiant bride, though. Her jaw’s clenched, her eyes are narrowed, and her cheeks are bright pink with anger. She clutches a cluster of white flowers between her hands so tightly, they’re bruised and broken. She’s here begrudgingly. She’d likely rather be literally anywhere else on the planet.