Page 17 of A Deal with a Rake (Wicked Widows’ League #35)

“Where’d you get that get up?” Declan asked, scowling at Tavish’s clothes.

He ignored his brother and walked to his trainer. “What are you doing here?” He slapped the old man on the back, as his friend brought him in for a one-arm hug.

“I had to tell ya about that bastard, The Butcher.” Dutch’s dark eyes were filled with worry.

Tavish hadn’t seen that look since Hammer agreed to fight The Butcher.

“I don’t like it, a mhac ,” his ma said, calling him son, like she did when he was a boy. “Dutch said that this Butcher is after you since you left the fight when Declan came for you.” She wrung her hands together, a sign that she was nervous.

Curse The Butcher for worrying his ma.

“Don’t worry about it, Ma. I can handle The Butcher.” Tavish placed his hand on her shoulder, cursing the ugly bloke for worrying her, especially with Da no longer with them.

“He lost everything on that fight. People said you’d beat him, that he was washed up.” Dutch took a gulp of whiskey. “He took off a few days later for London. Told anyone who’d listen he was going to hunt you down and demand a rematch.”

“Then I’ll give him a rematch. He still has to pay for Hammer’s death.” Tavish punched his hand, rage souring his good mood from days of being buried in Florentia.

“You can’t fight him. You’re a bloody duke,” Declan said, raising his hands in the air.

Tavish poured himself a drink, wanting to punch his own brother. “You expect me to let him threaten me and do nothing. I’m a fighter first, a duke second.”

“Hello,” the sultry voice he’d spent days memorizing every lilt and tone said from the door. “I’m running out.”

“Come meet, Ma,” he said, walking to her and taking her by the hand.

She stilled for a moment before dutifully following him to his ma, who looked wide-eyed and knowingly from Tavish to Florentia.

“Oh, I didn’t realize your mother was here,” she said, her hand trailing down her blue pelisse.

“Aye, and my trainer, Dutch.” He nodded his head to the tall Black man, whose eyes twinkled as he looked at the duchess beside Tavish. “Ma meet Florentia, the Duchess of Summerset.”

“Aye,” his mother said, her face smiling in a way that Tavish knew exactly what she was thinking. “Your Grace, aren’t you a beauty. I had no idea you were so breathtaking.”

“Mrs. O’Brien you are too kind to say a such a thing.” Florentia blushed as she dipped a curtsy to his mother.

Ma sucked her teeth. “None of this Mrs. O’Brien, call me Brielle or Ma, if you like.” Her eyes cut over to Tavish, who ran his hands through his too short hair. Jessee had cut it specifically for the ball being held in Tavish’s honor.

“Bloody hell,” his brother murmured from behind their ma.

“You must join the family for dinner this week,” his ma said, taking Florentia by the hands.

“O-oh, how very kind of you. Of course, I’ll join you all for dinner,” she stumbled over her words nervously.

It was the first time he’d seen her act shy. Usually, she was bold and fierce, but here, there was a hint of innocence he’d never seen in her before.

“Yes, join us,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist.

He could feel everyone’s eyes on them, but he didn’t care. She was his now, and he was hers.

“Where are you going?” he whispered down at her.

She gazed up at him, her cheeks blooming red. “Shopping with my good friend, Lady Woodmere.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He led her out of the parlor to the front of the house, where Anderson stood dutifully by the door. “Anderson, take a reprieve. I’ll walk Her Grace to the carriage

“Very well, Your Grace.” The butler rushed off, leaving him and Florentia alone.

She was in his arms and against the wall in a blink of an eye. His mouth was on hers, greedy and hungry for her taste. It had been an hour since he’d had her, and he was starving for her.

“Hurry back, so I can feck you in that copper tub before the ball,” he rasped out against her lips, before trailing a path down to her neck.

“God, yes. I want it rough and hard.” She pulled him by the hair, guiding him back to her mouth.

He pressed against her, wanting to drag her back upstairs and have his wicked way with her.

“Are you fecking kidding me?” Declan shouted from the hall. “Ma’s waiting on ya.”

“Feck off. I’m coming,” Tavish said, as Florentia righted her skirts, ignoring his brother. He led her to the door and to the waiting carriage. “Hurry back.”

“I will,” she said before stepping inside, a smile on her face.

He rushed back in to find his brother still waiting in the hall.

“Are you fecking kidding me? Summerset’s widow?” Declan pointed out toward where the carriage was.

“She won’t be a widow long,” Tavish said over his shoulder as he walked toward the parlor.

“What?” His brother followed him. “You can’t marry her.”

Tavish turned to his brother, a grin on his lips. “Aye, I can, and I will, deartháir beag .”

“You just met her,” Declan reminded him, their ma, and Dutch, who were looking on with great interest.

“I knew it from the moment I saw you. You’re smitten, son,” his ma said, a wide smile on her face.

“Aye, like Da used to say, she’s my anam cara .”

His soulmate.

Tavish knew without a doubt that Florentia was meant to be his.