Page 86 of Iron Blade

“But if you did?”

“Wen… Wen-o.” He sounded uncertain, his nose wrinkling at the possibility. “I think Eoghan is already a nickname for something else. Who knows? I’ve never thought about it.”

“I’ll stick with Eoghan then, even though the spelling is outrageous.”

“It’s just Irish,” he chuckled, coming up behind me to place his hands around my waist.

“I hope you don’t want our kids to have such Irish-y, complicated names,” I said with a laugh, lightly running my hand down my stomach. He had filled me so much that I swear, I could already feel the beginning of life inside me. That was ridiculous, of course. There was no way to tell this early. Maybe Eoghan’s determination was rubbing off on me.

“If the child in your belly is a boy,” he said, putting a kiss on my neck. “I would like to name him Cillian, after my maternal grandfather.”

“Cillian,” I said, testing the name out on my tongue. “I guess I like it.” I looked down at the pouch of my stomach, then laughed at how silly I was being. “There’s no way there’s a kid in there yet. It’s way too early! You’re so full of it.”

He placed his hands over mine, cradling my stomach as if I was already pregnant.

“I only speak the truth,” he said gently. “Whether you believe it or not.”

I laughed, though it was half-hearted at best.

“And all the stuff about never having another, and…”

“Every word is truth.” His hands tightened around mine, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make his presence known. “Neither you nor I will ever have another. What we have bound together in our vows, no man, beast, or God can tear asunder.”

He pulled the sleeve of my dress down, revealing a bare shoulder, and he sucked on the skin there, drawing it between his teeth, creating another mark on my body.

He would cut his name into my skin if he could.

“Assuming we survive my family,” he finally said, burying his forehead into my hair, his eyes shut.

His arms tightened around me, until he made it hard to breathe. He was holding me like I was dangling on the edge of a cliff, and if he gave up an inch, I’d plummet out of his grasp.

“How bad could it be?” I finally asked, and he loosened his embrace.

Again, I was asking a question that I already knew the answer to. It could be fucking bad. Really, really, really bad.

But if Dairo was any indication, then it could be manageable… right?

Dairo came with a black Cadillac a few minutes later. Eoghan walked me out of the cottage and to the car. His expression was dark, like he was walking us to our death. Dairo opened the windows and leaned out of it, looking us over as we approached.

“Did you have a nice vacation?” Dairo asked, just as Eoghan greeted, “What’s the craic?”

The two of them paused, just looking at one another, and I wondered if there was some kind of weird telepathy they were sharing because they had an entire conversation just from the changing expression of their eyes.

Eoghan held my hand as I got into the back seat. Instead of going around the car to go to the other side, he simply shuffled in behind me until we were plastered together. I tried to scoot to the other window seat but a single look from Eoghan made me pause.

He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him.

I suppose this was something I would have to get used to. Eoghan Green did not want to ever have space between us.

It was a swoon-worthy trait to find in a husband.

“Did you have a good honeymoon?” Dairo asked, his eyes peering at me from the rearview mirror.

“Aye,” Eoghan answered for the both of us.

“Did you talk it out?” Dairo asked, cryptically.

“Talk what out?” I whispered.

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