Five days and she hadn’t.
So I’d finally given in and gone to her.
Both because I needed to ensure her safety if something were to happen to me, and because I wanted to see her face. Gauge her reaction. The concession in our constant battle was worth it.
Frances greets us, and dinner is served—steaks, asparagus, and sweet potato, but I barely taste any of it. The little liar is hiding something, and getting her to let down her guard the slightest bit had been the first step. I don’t want to push her, but I know there’s something about her interaction with Devin Franklin that doesn’t sit right with me. Something she’s not telling me.
She may have only wanted me as her husband for her sister’s sake, but now that she’s got me, I want everything from her.
Especially her secrets.
My plans are thwarted as soon as both of our plates are clean. Frances appears in the doorway with a grinning Eamon at her side.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” he says, giving a jaunty little dip at the knees. “Dinner with the missus. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Yes.”
“No,” Catriona says at the same time.
I flick her a dispassionate look, and her lips press together. To Eamon, I say, “You’re always intruding. Now, what do you want so you can go?”
Eamon rests against the doorjamb, crossing his ankles. “I’m stealing you for the night.”
“No.”
I see Catriona sip on wine out of the corner of my eye, a cautiously amused smile semi-hidden behind her glass at the byplay.
“You haven’t even heard what it’s for.”
“I don’t need to hear. Besides, we’re occupied.” I gesture to the plates.
“You’re done. Surely, you can survive being away from her for a day.”
“We—”
“Of course you can have him for the night, Eamon. I have readings to do. And a new clerkship to find. So I’ll be busy for the evening.” Pushing to her feet, she nods at me before rushing out of the room.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I say flatly.
“You’re the definition of a happy groom,” he says, twitching his eyebrows at me. I try to escape to my study without him,but he doesn’t get a clue and follows. “I always thought marriage would suit you,” Eamon adds at my back.
“I can’t wait for the day when something like this happens to you,” I answer through gritted teeth, as I pour myself a glass of gin. I knock it back, appreciating the floral notes and, with pride, noting that the brand is from Ireland: Dingle Gin. No wonder it’s excellent.
It’s almost like she knew what I was trying to do, I muse to myself, as I sip more.Did she sense I was trying to get her alone? Needle information from her? Clever little wife.Of course she did. My brilliant, ruthless Catriona. If any other woman has offered me half as much amusement, I can’t pull them to mind. Ever since she stole her way into my life, every other woman has been lackluster in comparison.
Eamon chuckles, throwing himself into a chair with that infuriating grin of his. “There isn’t a woman alive who could knock me off my feet.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, I take the chair opposite him. Maybe if I get him drunk enough, he’ll pass out, and I can interrupt Catriona’s studying. “Why aren’t you on a job? What do you want?”
Slumping dramatically with one hand on his chest, Eamon says, “You think I’d let you get married without doing something special to celebrate? You wound me.”
I glare at him over my drink. “I’mgoingto wound you, you gobshite.”
He gestures, and I sigh before handing him my glass for him to drink. Will I ever get to finish a drink in my own house?
“You seem like you could use a bit of distraction.” He gestures with the now-empty crystal tumbler. “And I’m your favorite distraction.”
“What you are is a giant pain in the arse.”
