He’s going back to Boston. He’s going to take back the Kings. Which means—
Connor McGregor is going to be my husband.
My heart, which felt on the verge of stopping moments ago, is now racing madly in my chest. All I can think of is that in a matter of months, possibly even less, I’ll be in Connor’s bed.
Everything he’s teased me with, everything he’s made me imagine, I’ll finally find out.
“Saoirse?” The look in his eyes as he jolts me out of my thoughts tells me he has at least some idea of what I’m thinking.
“Sorry.” I follow him and the hostess to the table near the fireplace that was reserved for us. It’s a heavy wood table with similarly heavy, leather-backed chairs, the table draped with a rich red cloth, an iron and wood chandelier overhead, and a stag head mounted over the fire. It’s masculine and romantic all at once, and I can’t help but wonder if Connor had some reason for bringing me here specifically, if he wanted to make tonight special in some way.
That kind of thinking will get you in trouble. He’s already said there’s no chance of love between you.
“I’ll have a whiskey, neat,” Connor tells the waiter. “Saoirse?”
“Whiskey, but with ginger.” I unfold the heavy black cloth napkin on the table and spread it over my lap to hide the nervous tremors in my fingers. It’s beginning to sink in that my father and I have apparently succeeded. The man sitting across from me will be my husband. For better or worse, ‘til death do us part, whether he makes me happy or miserable or something in between.
I’ve sealed my own fate, and I can’t decide whether I ought to be glad or terrified.
“Whiskey, hm?” Connor grins at me as the waiter sets our drinks down. “I didn’t know you were a whiskey kind of lass.”
“I like a strong drink.” I take a sip of mine—it’s definitely strong, the rich top-shelf whiskey sliding warmly down my throat, filling my senses with the smoky flavor. “I’m not a wilting flower kind of woman.”
“No, I don’t think you are.” Connor looks at me from across the table, and it feels as if he’s sizing me up, deciding how much to share with me. “I think you’re a sturdy Irish rose, Saoirse, beautiful, hardy, and stubborn. But I’ve told you already, I won’t be managed by a woman, and my business is my own.”
“So why are you going to tell me about the meeting?” I pause as the waiter returns to take our orders, but I don’t stop looking at Connor as he tells the man we’ll both have the prix fixe dinner menu and another round of drinks. He’s so handsome it almost hurts, broad-shouldered and strong-jawed, those blue eyes enough to make a woman weak in the knees. Any woman would feel lucky to have him in her bed, and I know plenty have.Plenty still will,I remind myself, ignoring the pang of jealousy that comes with it. I have to remember that even once he’s my husband, he’ll never bemine.
The trade-off, of course, is that, unlike most men, Connor doesn’t expect me to be his, either.
“Because you should know at least what’s going to happen,” Connor says flatly when the waiter walks away. “I’m not asking your opinion, Saoirse. Don’t take it as that. I’m filling you in on how things will be, so you can be aware of it.”
“I see.” The whiskey burns a little more going down this time. “So, how are thingsgoing to be?”
“We’ll return to London in a few days, once I’ve wrapped things up here with the Dublin Kings. They’ll be sending a handful of men back with me to build up my reinforcements. Once we’re back in London, we’ll perform the betrothal ceremony, and you and I will be officially engaged. We’ll fly back to Boston together, where I’ll take up residence with my men, and you’ll go back to your father’s house until we’re wed. Once we’re married, we’ll stay in an apartment until Liam can be ousted from the McGregor estate. Then once I’ve taken hold of the table, you and I will move in there and begin our family.”
He says it all flatly, emotionlessly, as if it’s nothing but a business arrangement to him—and that’s what it is, to me as well, I remind myself.
“Liam has taken up residence on the estate?” I ask curiously. “When we left Boston, he and Ana were still living in his penthouse apartment.”
“Penthouse.” Connor snorts. “Apparently, he and his new bride moved the same day he found out you and Graham came to London to find me. A wise move on his part,” he admits. “It’s an obvious one, but not without its reasons. Living at the estate is his way of reasserting his claim and preventing me from going straight there and taking up residency to strengthenmine. But not to worry,” Connor adds. “We’ll have him out in no time and the table under my control.”
“I’m not worried,” I say evenly, finishing my first drink and reaching for the second as the waiter brings our appetizers, two salads, and lamb medallions in a port sauce. “I have no doubt that you’ll take control of the table—hopefully without much bloodshed. After all, that’s why my father and I came to find you.” I spear one of the medallions with a fork, setting it on the delicate plate in front of me as Connor does the same. “Who else is coming back to Boston with us? Jacob and Quint at least, I assume.”
“Most of my men. A few who have families and other obligations here will stay behind, running their own chapter of the gang.” Connor slices into his lamb. It’s rare, and red juice spills out onto the plate as his knife sinks into it. “Along with the backup from the Dublin Kings.”
I can’t take my eyes off of the bloody plate. “It sounds like you’re preparing for a war,” I say, reaching for my drink.
Connor looks up, his gaze meeting mine. “If need be,” he says slowly. “Aye. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s no need for war if Liam is reasonable.”
“If he moved onto the estate, it doesn’t sound like he’s planning to be reasonable.” My mouth feels dry despite the drink. “Connor—even if Liam fights back, make sure your men are careful of Ana. She’s pregnant, and—she shouldn’t be hurt,” I finish lamely. “She’s innocent.”
“She’s hardly innocent,” Connor says wryly. “But my men and I are hardly in the habit of harming women and children.” He frowns, chewing a bite of the rare lamb. “Interesting that you’re so concerned for the woman who stole my brother from you.”
“I don’t blame her,” I say tautly. “I wouldn’t say I’m fond of her, but it’s Liam I blame. He had a duty, and he forsook it for her. She didn’t break a vow to me. He did.”
“And yet you don’t want to see him dead.” Connor looks at me curiously. “You’re not a vengeful woman, are you, Saoirse?”
“No.” I take a bite of my own lamb. It’s delicious, buttery tender and flavorful, the bloody meat rich on my tongue. “Not vengeful. I want you to succeed because it means we both get what we were born for, Connor. Liam tried to give that to someone else. He broke his vows and disgraced me, but I don’t think that deserves death. It just means a better man deserves to sit at that table.” I look at Connor levelly. “It means a better man deservesme.”