Page 136 of Illicit Temptation

“We’ve been married for two seconds, there’s a problem already?”

“We’ve been married for three and a half years, technically. But I don’t have any kind of party planned for after this.” I tug my hair, feeling anxious. “I wasn’t expecting seventeen additional people, two toddlers, and two infants to show up!”

“Ye of little faith,” Larke says, walking by. Shekneweveryone would be here.

“Where will we do the—”

“Hey, you’re the bride. Not the event planner this time, Missy. This ismyrodeo.” She pats her chest proudly.

“Yee-haw,” Cormac mewls, passing her.

Oh no...I shake my head at him. “Keep walking, cowboy.”

“Trust the process, love.” Trace kisses the side of my head.

“Do you know what’s happening?” I ask him.

“Not at all,” he laughs.

“I have a table all set up in the back garden under a canopy.” Larke spins me around, and it’s a scene right out of a movie.

I smile and relax, seeing a long table with candles, flowers, and lights strung overhead. Waiters carry trays of food to the table. Further back is a three-tier wedding cake. But it’s nothing like I’ve seen before. I head over there and lose my breath. Cheesecake! Thank God.

Within minutes, everyone is milling about the garden, kids running around, soft music playing, Freye sitting with my ma. They’re smiling, holding hands, and wipingaway happy tears.

“When the kids are older, let’s do a big trip to Ireland, so your ma can spoil some wee-ones.” I sip my flute of champagne.

Trace grabs his second. “No need. They’re bleedin’ moving here.”

I gulp my drink in response, not sure how to respond to that. But in-laws are a part of marriage. Trace got lucky, considering many of my brothers have horror shows for fathers-in-law. Trace would have been in the same boat, but Lachlan took care of that.

Trace goes to finish his drink, but stops, gazing over my shoulder. “What in the fuck’s sake?”

I look that way and hold my chest seeing Griffin hurry into the garden slipping a jacket over his broad shoulders. Looking closer, I see his nose is swollen, and a shiner blossoming under his right eye.

“What the heck?” I ask Trace. “Who would dare lay a hand on the new head of the Irish Mob in Lower Manhattan?”

“Those brats. Can’t resist a few rounds of rugby when they should have been here at my bleedin’ wedding.”

Hand in hand, Trace and I cut a path to Griffin. Shane and Connor follow behind him also pushing on suit jackets.Theydon’t look like they’ve been rolling in the grass, but they look...anxious.

Sweating, Griffin takes a flute from a passing server and downs it in one gulp. He spots us coming toward him.

Another server comes up to him with a whiskey. “Thanks, mate.” He drinks that and then waves to us. “I know we’re late. And I’m sorry we can’t stay.” Griffin kisses my cheek. “Congratulations, lass. And welcome to the family.”

“You can’t stay at my wedding?” Trace remarks, watching Griffin kiss me. “Why not?”

“There’s a body in my trunk,” he deadpans.

“What?Mytrunk’s not good enough for you?” Rhys slinks over.

“What?”I shriek.

“Parked where?” Trace asks, folding his arms.

“That’s your question?” I push him.

“The car is parked under a tree,” Griffin says, downing the whiskey.

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