“Keep it down, Father. Please!” Sloan glances over as his voice rises, but I send her a reassuring smile and she returns to examining the window. “If I dinna marry her, she’s still seen as fair game. Once she’s a MacTavish wife, no one will touch her without incurring the wrath of my entire clan. And there is no one in our world suicidal enough to try.”
“Well- well then talk to her!” he says, “Help her understand and the Lord will do the rest.”
“I dinna have time for her understanding nor the Lord’s positive influence.” He looks shocked at my brazen blasphemy. “I must protect her now.”
“Ya are asking me to commit an offense against the sanctity of marriage to prevent a greater tragedy?” he says sharply.
“Aye,” I say simply. It’s the truth, and I can see the conflict is killing him.
“She’s not even Catholic, is she?”
“Most likely not,” I admit.
Running his hands over his face, he rises from the pew. “I am not like Father Barclay. I will not demand a large payment for the parish.”
“I see.”
“However, I am going to fetch my Bible and my vestments. Should a large donation for our newest soup kitchen on Great Junction Street find its way into the church’s fundraising account, it would not be unwelcome.”
Gettin’ blackmailed to keep the parish’s various soup kitchens running isn’t the worst thing I’ve had to pull out my wallet for, so I open my phone and make the transfer from my account to the church’s.
“Darlin’.”
Turning with a smile, she gestures at the window. The Archangel Michael is on the back of a magnificent white horse, a golden sword in hand, and swinging at an enormous green snake. “Isn’t this amazing? Look at the detailing, the thickness of the stained-glass changes to create different-”
“I need to tell ya something. I want ya to wait till I’m done to speak. Aye?” Patrick is making a quick and silent exit.
Her pretty brows draw together. “No conversation that starts that way is ever good.”
To be honest, the thought of how I’d propose to a girl had never entered my head, the concepts of a wife or children were fuzzy at best. But now the words surged out of me.
“We’re gettin’ married. Here. Today. It’s the only way I can guarantee your protection.”
Chapter Thirty
In which we learn that there's no proposal like... well, no proposal.
Sloan…
“We’rewhat?”
The last word echoes around the chapel and I cringe when two older ladies look up from their prayers to glare at me. Patrick ambles over and says something flattering because their cheeks turn pink and they giggle as he smoothly escorts them out of the chapel.
It’s just the two of us now and without thinking, I smack Ethan as hard as I can on his monstrously large shoulder.
“Ow! Shit!” I’m cradling my throbbing hand and trying not to scream. His body is granite hard, the over-muscled asshole.
“Ah, ah. No cursin’ in church.”
Oh, he’senjoyingthis. “I am not going to marry you, kidnapper!”
He has the nerve to look disappointed. “We’re back to that, now?”
“I think trying to strong-arm me into marrying you is definitely grounds for revisiting your high-handed behavior in the past, yes!” I’m speaking in a fierce whisper but as Father Hamiltonemerges from another room to stand at the altar, I see the poor man’s shoulders hunch.
“Ya are, and let me tell you why.” He pulls me against him, hard, so I feel every angle and line of his muscled body sinking into my softer one. “I dinna want to tell you before this, but there’s another group after ya. Whatever it is that ya know is making Masters call in every favor he has in the underworld, it’s big enough that he’s never gonna let ya go. If ya won’t do it for yourself, do it for your brother. And Carmella.”
Blindly, I fight against his hold, trying to push him away. I’m getting out of here I’m fuckinggoingand he can’t-
