Taking my hand, he loops it through his bent elbow. “Remember what Dory says.”
We’re almost to the enormous bronze doors and the first peals of an organ begin.
“What does Dory say?” My eyes are as wide as I can make them, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.
“Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…” he sings softly and I choke out a watery giggle.
Mom and the man who is selling me off are already seated in the front row. Lucia gives me another anxious little smile and heads down the aisle toward the priest.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re not even Catholic,” I whisper.
“Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…” My brother gently pulls me into the chapel as the guests rise.
Chapter Three
In which we just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…
Mason…
“I know our family is notorious for non-enthusiastic brides,” Michael murmurs, “but I think - at least in this generation - ye win this round.”
He’s not wrong, the woman coming down the aisle to me is being pulled more than walking. Her brother’s trying to be subtle about it but at one point, she’s frozen in place, and he has to bend down and whisper something to her. My gaze darts to Arabella, Logan’s wife. She can read lips and she nods, putting her palms together and wiggling her thumbs.
Just keep swimming, Arabella mouths to me, shrugging.
Unless that’s a signal to pull out the guns, I don’t care. Our men are stationed at each entrance and I know there’s a sniper up in the choir loft, along with several guards undercover in black tie.
There’s too many MacTavishes in attendance, and I don’t like it. It’s rash to have our entire leadership here. I’d suggested they all wait until the inevitable re-wedding atSeanairandSeanmhair’sestate, and they looked as shocked as if I’d just ritually disemboweled a goat and bathed in its blood.
The cathedral is broiling from hundreds of lit candles and dozens of bodies; all crammed in to watch the MacTavish Mafia join with the Cavendish Syndicate. Guests are waving theirprograms, trying to make a breeze and it’s sending up a dozen competing scents from the flowers covering every millimeter of the space.
My gaze moves to my parents in the front pew and the line of aunts and uncles filling up the bench. Dad raises a cocky brow at me and tilts his head to the exit. His meaning is clear:Ye can always run.Mum is smiling though there’s a glitter in her eye, tears she’s holding back.
After an interminable period of time and the organist having to restart “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” my bride is finally in front of me. Her brother gives me a tight smile and thrusts her hand into mine when she doesn’t seem inclined to do it. Her fingers are cold, and I give them a gentle squeeze that I believe would be reassuring.
The veil is thick, I can just make out the swoop of her dark lashes and the firm line of her mouth. “You look beautiful,” I murmur. “Just follow my lead and repeat what Father McKenzie tells you. It will be over soon.”
“Thank you.” She barely whispers it.
We kneel and stand, we genuflect and cross ourselves, we repeat the priest’s words and it’s finally done.
“You may now share your first kiss as husband and wife,” The priest says, beaming happily.
Lifting her veil, I can feel a bolt of electricity shoot straight to my cock. My new wife is not merely pretty. She is fucking beautiful, wide, anxious blue eyes, elegant cheekbones, and she’s gently biting the corner of her full lower lip.
I want to bite that lip. I want to bite it until it bleeds and she begs me for more.
Not here.
My thumb pulls her lip from her teeth and I bend to kiss her, cupping her face with both hands. It looks romantic, but it’s more about keeping her from pulling away from me.
“Mmm-” She gives a startled little noise that fades away as my mouth closes over hers.
Fuuuuck.
