Page 93 of Iron Blade

The resentment I held for Eoghan’s father reached a new high, when I watched him chewing his food with disregard, as other people at the table waited to be served.

The maid, or housekeeper, or whoever she was - kept giving me the evil eye. Her red hair went to her shoulders. She was conventionally pretty, slim, and her short black dress advertised far more than her ability to clean house.

The way she leaned over Eoghan as she delivered his plate made me want to punch her in the throat. The only reason that I didn’t was because Eoghan didn’t notice her. As soon as he had pushed the seat in behind me, and then sat down, he’d pulled my chair towards him so that our thighs were pressed together. Then, he kept one hand firmly against my thigh, hiking up my skirt underneath the table until his fingers could trace my skin.

“And what is it that you do, Kira?” His father stared me down.

I bristled at the question because it wasn’t really a question. It was an accusation. No matter what I did, he’d be disappointed because I didn’t match the image he had in his head for who his son should be with.

“I’m an art curator,” I said, proudly. No one could hate an art curator, certainly? It was a job that was acceptable in every rung of society!

“Art? Art!”

Except to Mr. Alastair Green, apparently. He made the word sound filthy, as if I had admitted to being a sex worker.

“You married a bitch from our gallery?” he hollered before he started laughing.

His laughter had such a cruel edge that it made me sit up straighter.

“If you wanted to bed the help, you should have stayed with Malinda.” With a mean flick of his thumb, he gestured to the maid, and my eyes widened just a fraction.

Of course, Eoghan had slept with her. It was written all over her body. But that didn’t matter. Not yet, at least. He should have told me though, and the fact he hadn’t nagged at something on the back of my neck.

The girl had the good sense to look embarrassed, even though her desire for my husband was evident in her longing gaze.

“I should have broken your hand as soon as you took up that godforsaken painting hobby!” His fist slammed on the table and all the plates jumped, hovering in the air for what seemed like an eternity before they fell back down with a loud clatter. “It’s made you fucking soft.”

There are certain rules that we must obey as spies.

It’s not like the movies. We don’t run around getting into fights with bad guys in suits. We don’t make spectacles of ourselves at craps tables in Monaco or jet set like the royal family. We made ourselves invisible by being ordinary.

The one rule we had was that we did not stick out. No extraordinary feats of strength or displays of our language skills. Nothing that ever showed that we were anything but plain, boring people.

But when the world slowed down to a crawl, and Alastair Green gripped his steak knife in his hands, my body did not follow my training.

Alastair raised the knife up, as he growled, “I’ll fix that mistake now!”

I knew what his target was. It was Eoghan’s palm, which rested casually on the linen tablecloth.

The knife arced over, as his father came to his full height, his hand up.

Aoibheann’s eyes widened, as she covered her mouth to contain a scream. My hand darted up, grabbing Eoghan’s wrist, before I pulled it off the table and onto his lap. The knife narrowly missed before it embedded through the linen.

Dairo came to his feet, pushing the old man away. The maid, whats-her-name, screamed in the corner, as Eoghan stared at where his hand had been, his palm grasping at mine like it was a lifeline.

“Are you bloody mad?” Dairo yelled at his uncle, as Aoibheann stood and rushed to my side.

She clasped my hand, concern etched in her green eyes as her wispy, soft voice asked, “Are you alright?”

She was acting like I was the one that had almost been stabbed.

All the while, Eoghan didn’t move. I was too stunned to speak.

I suspected that things were bad. But I never suspected they could be like this. His own father tried to maim him.

My regard for my husband was dented by the revelation that he had fucked the maid and allowed me to walk in front of her as his wife. He should have warned me. I should have known that information, and not been the only one in the room who wasn't in on that little bit of Eoghan’s love life.

But obviously there was more going on in this haunted home.

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