Page 64 of The Wolf in My Tavern

Gray raises both brows. Then he chuckles, which soon turns into a deeper guffaw that pisses me right off.

Next, he holds his fucking belly, he is laughing that hard.

“It’s miles t’ the nearest shore, lad,” a man says, stepping forward. He looks like a pirate with his weather-worn blue jacket and the cutlass at his hip. “A strong crew o’ seamen at the oars wouldna make it.”

“Well, I’ll fucking row all night then,” I say, feeling like a damn idiot.

“Ye two be acquainted?” the pirate continues, looking between Gray and me.

“Aye,” Gray says.

At least he is no longer fucking laughing at me.

“Ada is mine,” I say, not caring that this statement is likely inflammatory. “She could be carrying my child. No man shall be putting his fucking hands on her without going through me.”

“Callum, please!” Ada says, tugging at me yet again. “He’s not going to hurt me. And he won’t hurt you either, will you, Gray?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, lass,” Gray admits. “The jury is out on whether or not I hurt Callum. Well, perhaps it is more about the degree to which I will beat some respect into him. For sure, he will be hurting a lot more if he does not move the fuck away from you with that fucking massive sword, which, I’ll hazard a guess, he doesn’t know how the fuck to use.”

The bastard is right about the sword. I know only the basics and how to fucking skewer a man… or a shifter.

“You’re surrounded,” Gray continues, going in for the verbal kill. “There is no chance of getting Ada off this ship unless you intend to plunge to your deaths, which I know is not your intention. So put your weapon down.”

My palm is fucking sweating while the rest of me is fucking freezing as brisk winds batter my soaked clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tense in my life.

He’s bluffing. I know he is.

I think he’s bluffing.

I wish he were bluffing.

His eyes slide to the man at my side, and he nods.

What the fuck was that about?

I find out as the deckhands around us sheath their swords.

They don’t move away, though, nor do they move to prepare one of the rowing boats.

“Put the sword down, Callum. Neither of us wants Ada to get hurt in the fray.”

“There won’t be any fray if you give me a fucking boat.”

“That’s not going to happen, lad. We both know as much. You think you’re tied to her because you’ve rutted her. The truth is a lot more complicated than that.”

“Complicated? There’s nothing complicated beyond you being a bastard who snatches women from the streets!”

“That much is true,” Ada pipes up, still fighting with me like she is ready to assault the shifter scum.

His face softens.

And that is telling in ways more than a thousand words. He cares for her. Perhaps in the same way that I do, for he has not attacked me yet, even though it must be burning him, for he dare not risk her being hurt.

Complicated.

I don’t want it to be complicated. I wanted it to be simple.

I met a lass, fell in love, and was due to wed her in two days. There would’ve been a quiet ceremony with Betsy, Tim, my father, and a few other people we consider friends, and then afterward, she would’ve been in my bed under me every night where she belongs. I’d have worked hard in the forge all day, perfecting my skills, with a mind to one day take over and continue the business in my father’s stead.

---