“No,” he said. It didn’t seem like he could say anything else. He was too overcome by emotion.
“All right,” I whispered. “I just…wanted to give you a gift for our wedding.”
He looked up at me, the emotion making it to his eyes, and I lost my breath. He didn’t even have to say anything. I could tell by his look alone how much they meant to him.
“Thank you, Maeve,” he whispered.
I nodded, the emotion inside of me turning thick in my throat so the meaningless words couldn’t slip through. Words could never convey how I felt. I took the figurines and set them next to us. They belonged in a place like this. To switch gears, because I did not want to cry again, I opened the book, but I went back to the last chapter I’d read. The one before the two characters get intimate for the first time.
“How about we make a deal?”
He looked intrigued, and my grin turned into a smile. He traced my lips with a finger, and I closed my eyes at the feel of his soft touch. His fingertips were calloused, though, and the contrast between my skin and his was delicious. I took a deep breath before I opened them.
“How about I read a chapter to you, and you read one to me?”
He seemed to be thinking about it while he removed my sneakers and set them on the side of the blanket. I wiggled my toes at the freedom, and he watched before he rested on his elbows, settling in. He pulled me down a second later, situating me in front of him. I rested my weight against his chest and brought my knees up to keep my feet on the blanket.
I looked at him. “Deal?”
“What’s the catch, my darlin’?” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I’d worn my hair in a braid because of the heat, but I could never seem to control some pieces of it. They always escaped, even from my buns.
I opened and closed my mouth. There was a catch. I hadn’t wanted to read the chapter with the sex scene. I thought it would sound much,muchbetter coming from his mouth. “Are you accusing me of trying to bamboozle you?”
“Bam-boozle.” He pronounced the word with care, almost like he was tasting it for the first time. “I know what it means, but it always sounded colorful in my head.”
“Was it as colorful speaking it?”
He nodded and lifted the book, fanning me with the pages. “The catch.”
I took it back from him. “There’s a spicy scene coming in the next chapter.”
He studied my face. “I want to hear it.”
“So you’ll read it?”
He opened the book to where the bookmark was. He picked it up and examined it. It was a picture of Ireland.
“Why do you enjoy readin’ so much?” he asked.
“I suppose it’s the same reason everyone does. To live a thousand lives.”
He shook his head. “Why does Maeve O'Callaghan read?”
I took a second to gather my thoughts so I could articulate them. “Boston felt like a box to me. I had walls all around me. My dad. He couldn’t be left to his own devices. And I didn’t want him to be lonely after my mom died. He needs me to help take care of him. Oran got a hold of him, and that worried me all the time. Then…Dermot. He had men watching me. He didn’t want me to try to leave. Books gave me an escape. Introduced me to a much bigger world than I could imagine.
“I meet all kinds of different people through the pages. I visit places I’ll never go, but somehow after the book is over, I’ve been. I experience foreign situations and emotions and…romance. I get to live lives I’ll only ever slip on in books. Up until youwhisked me awayto your castle,” I said, grinning, “I’d only left Boston once—right before Dermot told me I was going to marry him. I went to New York with Delaney.”
He lifted the Ireland bookmark and raised his eyebrows.
I took it from him, turning it over. “On my bucket list. Now…I’m here.”
His brow furrowed, causing deep indention lines on his forehead. I smoothed them out, and his eyes rose to meet mine.
“Yeah. I’ll read.”
I smiled at him. “Ready?”
I picked up where we’d left off last time. But unlike last time, he wasn’t this close, and he was distracting me some by concentrating on my lips as I read. It was hard to concentrate on the story when he was therealstory. There were no restraints stopping me from touching him, talking to him, breathing him in. But as before, he was into the story. Even more so than before.
