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I use that to my full advantage. I grab one of the towels out of the bag, then get it in both of my hands. I come up behind her and bundle her in the towel, wrapping it around her arms and torso.

She kicks and hisses like an angry cat, but I just wrap the towel tighter. I scoop Roisin up, tossing her over my shoulder while I stalk up to the Range Rover.

Unlocking the door, I gently set her on the seat. Her limbs are still covered by the towel, and she looks at me like she’d bite me, if she could.

I blink at her. “You were going to sit on the seat dripping wet. It ruins the leather.”

“I fucking hope so!” she shrieks at me.

I shut the door, then go to retrieve our bag.

A smile tugs at the edges of my mouth .

Roisin is pissed. Genuinely raging angry.

And it’s so much better than her being locked away behind bars of sadness and fear.

By the time I pick everything up and we’re on the way again, Roisin has calmed somewhat. She refuses to speak to me, which I find I’m also annoyed by. It makes me want to reach out and hold her. Ask if she’s okay.

Do anything except sit and be surrounded by her stony silence.

She does notice, however, when we don’t continue on the road back to the lake house.

“If you’re taking me somewhere to kill me, De Luca, you should know I won’t go down easy.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it in a million different ways by now, Rosin.”

She snorts. “You’d wait until it was perfectly to your advantage.”

My heart twists a little, but not because she’s wrong.

“I’m not used to being so predictable,” I murmur.

“Well. I guess not everyone would notice,” Roisin responds.

But she does notice.

The mountain road gets steeper, and I’m grateful for the SUV’s off-road capabilities. At this point, we’re practically plowing through snow, and when we finally roll up to the little cabin I found, the snow is coming down thick and heavy .

Roisin peers around, her face pinched in worry. “Okay seriously, Marco. I will haunt you forever if you kill me.”

“It’s a long way back to the lake house,” I explain. “I didn’t want to drive in the weather, and I wasn’t sure how long we’d be at the spring, so I rented this.”

Her eyebrow rises, and before she can say it, I cut her off.

“I used one of my aliases, and it’s rented in cash. Honestly, Roisin. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Not the word I’d use, but the sentiment is true,” she mutters.

I chuckle, then step out of the Range Rover. “Stay here until I come get you,” I say to Roisin.

“I’m perfectly capable?—”

“The snow is almost a foot deep. I’ll carry you in, unless you want your feet to freeze?” I eye her naked toes meaningfully.

She wrinkles her nose. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

Shutting the door to the Rover, I trudge through the shin-high snow and punch in the key to the little rental.

The cabin opens, and I quickly set the heat on.

It’s not a huge space. The main room flows into a kitchen, and just beyond I can see the door that leads to the bedroom and bathroom.

The furniture is well-worn, but clean; a leather couch, thick rugs marking the space.

It looks like the kitchen has been stocked too, which was one of the conditions of the rental.

Good.

There’s a wood fireplace as well, but I’ll have to mess with that later. I want Roisin in here and out of the cold before it gets too bad .

I retrieve her from the car, tucking her into my arms. She shivers, and I pull her closer. When we get into the cabin, I set her gently on the leather couch and wrap one of the blankets around her.

“I hope there’s a shower. I smell like hot spring,” Roisin murmurs.

“There’s a shower, but I can’t guarantee the water is hot.”

She shrugs. “I’ll see about that.”

Roisin stands, and I wince as her perfect feet touch the cold wood floor. I want to sweep her up in my arms again so she doesn’t have to walk across the cabin, but she’s gone before I get the chance. I hear the shower start to run, and I return to the Range Rover for the rest of our supplies.

By the time I’m done, Roisin steps out from the shower, a luxurious looking towel wrapped around her body. Whoever put this place together did it with a kind of quiet luxury in mind, and it makes me feel a little settled.

If it had been a dump, I would have taken Roisin back to the lake house, weather be damned.

“I’d like some clothes, De Luca,” she says.

I don’t miss the breathiness in her voice, however.

My eyes follow the path of a water drop as it rolls down her neck, stopping right at the space of the hollow of her throat. She’s so fucking pretty. The water drop stops right next to the little freckle that I’ve licked before.

I want to lick it again.

The taste of her skin…

“Marco. Clothes,” she holds out one of her hands .

Robotically, I grab her bag and put it into her hands.

Roisin spins on her heel, heading back into the bathroom.

Leaving me, staring.

Wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

Eventually, Roisin comes out, fully dressed in so much clothing that I’m surprised she’s not roasting hot.

Well. She is hot.

But I don’t think she’s going to admit that, and I don’t mean it in terms of her temperature.

“Your turn,” she waves at the shower.

I don’t need to be reminded. However, instead of lingering like Roisin, I quickly move through and wash up, then exit to find her in the kitchen.

Something smells good.

“I hope you know I can’t cook for shit,” she mutters.

I smile. “I remember that.”

Her green eyes flick to mine, then she looks down. “It’s nothing special. You’re stocked with sausages and the stuff for colcannon, so that’s what I’m making.”

“The cabin came with food,” I say.

She stops chopping, looking down at the food with suspicion. “Just randomly? So how do you know it’s not poisoned?—”

I lean in, quickly sampling each one of the ingredients. Raw potatoes taste like shit, and the sausage is mostly cooked, but hot.

Roisin’s jaw drops. “Marco! What if that had been poisoned!”

“Then the right person ate it,” I say.

I mean it, too. I would fucking throw myself in front of a bus to save Roisin.

And I hope she knows it.

Since when?

Emotions scrape at the inside of my chest, and I turn, leaving the kitchen to sit on one of the rustic looking chairs balanced at the edge of the counter.

Having her here, her hair still damp, her skin fresh from the shower, her eyes furrowed in concentration, is too much like our time in her little seaside cottage.

And if I remember that time, the only word I have to describe it is…

Happy.

That was the last time that I truly was happy.

Not with my family. Not living under the thumb of my parents legacy.

In a seaside cottage, practically a prisoner.

With her.

“I don’t want you doing stupid shit like that, Marco,” she chides. “I think we both need to be a little more careful?—”

Fuck it.

It takes me two seconds to cross the kitchen .

One to put my hands on either side of her, trapping her against the counter.

A half second to meet her eyes, to hover over her lips, to make sure that she’s not saying no.

When the plush pink of her lips parts, I take my chance.

I dive in, and I kiss Roisin with every fucking pent up emotion that is tearing my heart apart.

Happy.

I want to be happy. I want this, and I’m not fucking strong enough to fight it anymore.

Roisin makes me happy.

And fuck me.

I want to make her happy too.