Page 8 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)
“Ah,” Eilidh nods as if everything has suddenly become clear to her. “You’re suffering from youngest child syndrome, and you think settling down will show you’re ready for more responsibility.”
I’m not sure I possess the traits associated with that syndrome and I don’t occupy that position in the family, anyway. “My sister’s the youngest.”
“Oh, yeah, but you’re the youngest son, right, and I’m guessing your brothers are all in the family business .”
“They are.” I don’t like where she’s going with this. A thread of insecurity runs through me where my brothers are concerned and Eilidh seems intent on pulling at it.
“They’re a lot to live up to, right?”
“You can judge for yourself when we get to New York.” Evading her intense scrutiny, I turn to grab plates from the rack on the counter behind me and dish up some bacon and eggs. “Damn, I forgot the toast.”
“I don’t want toast,” Eilidh says as I set a plate down in front of her and grab cutlery from the drawer. “I also don’t want to go to New York.”
Returning to my home is non-negotiable. Being close to my family will be safer for Eilidh and she’ll be able to make friends with my sister and my brothers’ wives. It would be unproductive to argue with her about that now, so I don’t push back.
“What do you want to do, kitten?”
“I want to stay here and kill every bastard who had a hand in murdering my family.”
The sentiment doesn’t surprise me. Anyone in her position would want the same.
Hell, I’ve killed men for far less serious crimes against my family.
What does shock me is the violent glint in her eye, backed up by the vehemence in her voice.
At this moment, I believe she would tear Jason Henry and his men to pieces with her bare hands if she could.
“Have you ever killed a person?” I ask.
She lifts her chin defiantly. “Not yet.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Taking a life leaves an indelible mark on the soul.
I don’t spend hours of each day wringing my hands over the crimes I’ve committed, but it does affect me.
I’ve hardened since I became a Made Man and there are times I wish I could go back to being the carefree boy I was before.
“You expect me to turn the other cheek?” Eilidh demands. “You think I should let them get away with what they did?”
Considering I could never let it go if someone harmed my family, I’m not about to ask Eilidh to set aside her desire for revenge.
“No, I don’t, but I expect you to let others do the dirty work for you.”
Eilidh scoops up some scrambled eggs with her fork and pops them in her mouth. She grimaces, but says nothing. I take a bite of mine and realize I forgot to season them.
“Are you volunteering to do my dirty work for me?” she asks.
“Yeah, I am.”
She sets down her fork and looks up at me. “Why?”
I’m surprised she even has to ask. “Because you’ll be my wife. It’s my job to avenge you.”
Eilidh bites her thumb as she contemplates that. “You want this to be a real marriage?”
“After what we did on the dining table, you bet I do.”
A smile touches Eilidh’s luscious pink lips. “That was kind of incredible.”
Relief surges through me. “I was worried when you ran off.”
Eilidh picks up a piece of slightly charred bacon, frowns, and sets it back down on her plate. “I just needed a moment.”
It’s understandable. We went from zero to a hundred miles an hour in just a few minutes.
“You weren’t a virgin?”
“No.” Eilidh smiles ruefully. “You want the story?”
“Not unless you want to tell it. I only hope it wasn’t…” I trail off, unsure about broaching such a sensitive topic.
Fortunately, Eilidh can see I’m struggling and rescues me with a response. “Nobody forced me. It was a brief fling with a cute guy about a year ago. It didn’t come to anything.” She looks off into the distance as if remembering, then turns her gaze on me once more. “It couldn’t come to anything.”
“You had feelings for the guy?” Why does the thought of her loving some man before me cause such irrational jealousy?
“No. I mean, I liked him, but it would be silly to fall in love with one of your captor’s men, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
We sit in awkward silence before Eilidh hops down from the stool she was sitting on. “Do you have any more eggs?”
“There’s a couple.”
“Right, I’m going to make us some fried eggs and toast.”
I glance down at my plate and have to admit my attempt at cooking breakfast was pretty grim. “You know how to cook?”
“I wouldn’t call frying an egg cooking, but I think I remember how not to burn the crap out of it.”
She comes around to my side of the counter and shoos me out of the way. I sit on the stool she vacated and watch as she washes the frying pan.
“Don’t get ideas,” she says as she sets it down on the stove. “Even if we do get married, I won’t be running around like some perfect little housewife preparing your meals and ironing your shirts.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Wherever we end up living, we’ll have a housekeeper to deal with all that stuff. But, for now, I want to enjoy this snapshot of domestic bliss, even if I know it can’t last.