Chapter 22
Brody
“Uncle Ewan, I’ll marry the lass.” The words ring in my ears. My own words that I snarled out through gritted teeth. Ewan reclaims his seat. For the longest, the bloody bastard stood there like king of the fecking universe. Ewan spoke of his disappointment as if our clan were weans, slaves, nothing to the likes of him. I’ll not be facing Da over this, and I already gave Justice a look of apology.
The room’s quiet again, but I’ve done wit was important—made Ewan sit the feck down.
“I’m-I’m not!” Erika chokes on her words, hands clutching a water glass. The lass shoves the drink away. “Someone get me a bevvy. A real bevvy! Scotch, whiskey! Give me something, please.”
“Mind yer medication.” Mam runs a hand over her shoulder, smoothing her fiery red hair from her face. Everyone’s furious while Ewan chews thoughtfully on his food.
“Lachlan,” I tell my wee bràthair who’s seated across from me, “eat yer fecking food.” I sit down in my chair. I glance at my cousins, who look ready to go to battle. “James, Knox, eat. Camdyn, this shite’s better than any of yer attempts, eh?” I stare down my bràthair, but his gaze never falls.
While Ewan’s the only nugget content at the moment, I turn in my chair. I take Justice’s wine glass and place it closer to her, leaning in so I’m addressing her. I whisper, “A hunner fecking years, Justice. Remember? I’ll not be getting married.”
Her fingers settle over mine. I let the glass go, and she takes a long sip.
“Rain check?” I toss out the same line she proposed earlier.
Her smile hardly lifts off. Feck, I blew it. I always get the girl. Not this time. But me clan comes first.
* * *
Leith and Chevelle left during the dinner to deal with the man who had the Romans gunning for us. I drive Justice and Mia back to my bràthair’s home. It was a long ride, no words included. I place the sleeping girl into bed and run a hand over her silky curls.
“Ye’ve it so easy, lassie,” I mutter to the peaceful, softly snoring wean. “Uncle pissed off his entire clan to satisfy a wee bawbag.”
When I enter the living room, Justice has her arms folded across her chest. My eyes do that thing where they ping pong between her gorgeous face and her tits. I force my eyes to hers, and those brown eyes feck me forevermore.
With a huff, I verse myself on another new reality—feelings over pussy.
“Ye’re gonna tell me this ain’t a good idea.”
“Is that even necessary?” She’s aligning her body to dash down the hallway.
I place myself in her way. “I already said I’ll not marry the lass. Erika’s—”
“A lesbian. She was pretty friendly with that information when we headed out of the restaurant.” I think about how I’d placed Erika’s wheelchair in the trunk while Knox held her. The lass must’ve shared the news then. Justice was near them, carrying Mia.
With a shrug, Justice adds, “She even did the thing I thought your clan dreaded?”
“Wit?”
“Apologize.” Her bottom lip sucks into her mouth. For the first time in my life, I don’t want her mouth on my dick. I want her heart in my hands. A connection before sex. But I’m fecking pussy deprived. That’s it. A sex deficiency has caused these nugget thoughts.
Justice mutters, “Erika apologized on her father’s behalf.”
“So, then ya know, I’ve nae feelings for her, and she hasn’t a single one for me.”
Though there’s nae shortage of bonny lasses for me, I watch my biggest craving swagger away. The picture of perfection. Her shapely arse, hips. All those sweet chunks I want to cuddle, saunter across the living room to the hallway. This is it—first challenge—and I’m a failure, a bawbag. Nae acting on impulse with the lass, not anymore. Nae provoking her or challenging her. I’ll not be hearing the rich sound of Justice’s voice anymore. She’s worth more than I’d give her, and I ain’t mad at that.
“G’night,” I call after her. I’ll sit in the living room and torture myself until Leith returns.
Abruptly, Justice turns around, near the hallway, head cocked. “What about me, Brody? I get it. There’s nothing between you and Erika. Do you have feelings for me?”