“It doesn’t matter, Saoirse.” Niall runs a hand through his hair, stepping back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you in here. I only—I was worried about you. You look like a mess,” he adds, his mouth curling up in a teasing smirk.
And then, as if he can’t stop himself, he reaches up to push a lock of my hair behind my ear, where it’s tangled around my face from Connor’s kiss. His rough-tipped fingers graze against the smooth skin of my cheek, and I can’t stop the sharp breath I suck in, my eyes widening as I look up at him.
“Saoirse.” He murmurs my name softly, almost reverently. “Liam was a fool to let you go.” His fingers linger on my cheek, and I can see his struggle and how hard it is for him to pull away. “I told him that, over and over again.”
“Why?” The word comes out on a breath, and I’m aware of how close he’s standing, his powerful boxer’s body able to overpower mine in an instant if he wanted to. If hechoseto, but he won’t.
“Because it’s true.” Niall’s palm flattens against my cheek, and it’s all I can do not to lean into the caress. “It’s a foolish man who ever lets you go, Saoirse O’Sullivan. I’ve always thought so.” He moves closer, his body almost touching mine, but not quite. “I could kiss you right now,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding up, grazing my tangled hair. “That’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? To make you look like this, tangled and flushed and swollen.” His voice is a deep rasp, his eyes sapphire blue with need. “Kissing you.”
“You could,” I whisper.What would it feel like to be kissed by another man?Part of me desperately wants him to do it, so I can know if it’s Connor or just my inexperience that makes me burn like this, that makes mewantandneedso desperately. I feel as if I’m quivering down to my very bones, the apex of my thighs so wet that I’m half afraid it might show through my jeans if they weren’t so dark, and I don’t know if it’s because of Connor or Niall or both. I don’tknow, and I want so desperately to feel in control again. To understand myself and my desires.
“No.” Niall swallows hard, his hand dropping away from my face as his jaw tightens. “I can’t.” He backs up quickly, as if he’s afraid of what might happen if he touches me again. “In another life, maybe, Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
“It’s going to be Saoirse McGregor soon,” I blurt out. I don’t know why I do, exactly—I’m not even sure if my father has told Niall that Connor has agreed to go back. I don’t know why I say it aloud when a ring isn’t yet on my finger, but I’m suddenly gripped with a deep-seated need for him to know.
“I know.” That muscle in Niall’s jaw leaps again. “Graham told me tonight that Connor plans to go home. He’s not pleased with the means of it, but I think he’s choosing his battles—for now.” There’s a warning in his voice that I understand immediately, making my stomach twist with anxiety. I know very well that my father intends to use me to manipulate Connor, and that Connor just as surely intends not to be manipulated. Very soon, I will be torn between being my father’s dutiful daughter and my husband’s loyal wife, and it’s not a position I relish.
It’s not even a position I’m sure I’m ready to handle.
“Tell Liam.” I take two steps towards Niall, and I see him flinch, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as if he’s trying to resist touching me again. “Tell Liam that Connor is coming home, and convince him—” I take a breath, trying to sound more reasonable, less frantic. “Convince him to let the seat go to his brother, to back down. Connor will let him and Ana leave Boston if he gives it up. There’s no need—there doesn’t have to be a war.”
Niall lets out a breath. “Lass, I’m inclined to agree with you. But you, of all people, know that Liam is not as reasonable as he once was. He’s bitter against you and your father and determined to secure his child’s birthright, as he sees it.”
“Is it Anastasia pushing him to do it? Does she want it for their child? Because you know the table will never accept—”
“And you think they’ll accept a gang of English ruffians in their midst?” Niall scoffs. “Saoirse, you can think what you like about Liam’s stance, but you can’t pretend that Connor is doing things by the book any more than his brother is.”
“I know.” I swallow hard, looking at Niall. He’s half-turned away from me now as if he’s ready to flee the room as quickly as he pushed his way in. “If there’s a war, Niall—a war between the two brothers, it could get bloody. No one wants that—”
“I’m not sureno onedoes, lass,” Niall says gravely. “As for who it is that wants it, well—that remains to be seen. Connor has support from the alliance. I’ve told Liam his chances of holding onto the seat are slim. But as you well know, he’s not so inclined to listen to my advice these days, even when it’s well-intended. If he was, well—you wouldn’t be here. You’d be wed to him, carrying his child by now, no doubt.”
There’s a flash of something in Niall’s eyes at that, something that almost looks like jealousy, though that would make no sense. How could he be jealous over something that never even happened?
He reaches for the door, edging away from me. “I’ll be going now, lass,” he says, pushing the door open. “Before I do something the both of us might have cause to regret later.”
I’m frozen to the spot, speechless. But nothing steals my breath like the sight of Connor in the hall as Niall pushes the door open—leaving my room.