“Hope is a dangerous thing.” I smile wryly. “But sometimes, it’s all you have.” I gently touch the woman’s marble foot before we walk away.
***
“Mr. MacTavish, it’s an honor to have you here!”
The hostess is gushing over Mason, and it’s not like I can blame her. I’ve got mud splattered on my sundress after our walk through the Necropolis, something I didn’t notice until now, and a bit of a sunburn. Mason, on the other hand, is still perfectly put together in his expensive suit.
Damn him.
When the hostess has put herself back together, she leads us through the enormous reclaimed warehouse space, with fine china and snowy white linens blending with exposed brick and industrial iron beams. She shows us to a table in a little second-story alcove. “I hope you’ll be very comfortable,” she says to Mason. "Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“Thank you,” he says blandly. “If my lovely bride requires anything, I’ll let you know.”
Her gaze shoots to my left hand and her smile drops.
“You crushed her hopes and dreams,” I tease him, peeking at him over the very large menu.
He arches a brow. “Did I? It seems uncivilized to be focused on only one member of the party.”
Then it hits me. “Oh, I hadn’t even thought- Do you have a girlfriend?”
There’s that polite chuckle. “Would I have married you if I did?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “If I’d had a boyfriend, it certainly wouldn’t have stopped my father.” Just mentioning him makes my chest burn.
“Look at me.” His huge, calloused hand lands on mine, squeezing my fingers and I force myself to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t seeing anyone. You don’t need to be concerned about someone showing up on our doorstep, weeping and wailing.” He pauses with a slight smirk, “Though that has happened to Logan more than once.”
I try to smother my laugh with my napkin. “You’re saying that your cousin is a fuckboy?”
“Now, now. We don’t slut shame in this family.”
My laughter is finally under control by the time the waiter appears with our first course. “Roasted Orkney scallop with a miso courgette and shiso,” he intones, before backing away. There’s a slight movement over his shoulder and I recognize two of Mason’s men sitting at a table close by. They both have a glass of water in front of them and nothing else.
“Aren’t your guys going to eat?” I ask, taking a bite.
Another professional-looking smile. “Their job is your safety, not dinner.”
By the time we’re served the Yuzu sake and the farmhouse cheese board, I’ve had enough to drink to be bold. “When I got in bed in the master suite last night, I thought you’d be…” I take another fortifying sip, “I thought you’d be joining me.”
Mason runs his finger over his lower lip, watching me blurt this awkwardness out.
“Are you asking me why I didn’t jump you the minute we got into the house?”
“No.” I laugh nervously. “But I- I know this is expected.”
“I have never forced a woman into my bed,” he says. “I wouldn’t start with my new bride who had known me for perhaps twelve hours at the time.” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “And most particularly, not a virgin.”
I’m frozen, my sake cup halfway to my mouth.
“We MacTavishes are not animals,” he says, taking my cup and setting it down on the table. “Though you might have been told otherwise. Well,mostof us are fairly civilized. We were all raised by strong mothers to respect women.”
There’s a glow spreading through my lower half. My skin feels too tight, like it can’t contain the heat building in my center. My new husband is insanely gorgeous. He’s been kind, and patient.
“When we have sex, it will be your choice to do it,” he says. “I won’t push you until you’re ready.” The calloused tip of his finger slides up the inside of my wrist, likely feeling my suddenly speedy pulse.
This man is huge. Big enough to break me if he wanted, snap my neck like a glow stick. But he’s been gentle during this conversation.
Until he’s not.
