Page 54 of Bartered Innocence

I smile, my heart skipping a beat as Rian pulls me closer. “I think I’d like to meet them both,” I say.

“If you want to train with me, then I’ll make sure to set up time for just us.” The mischievous smile on his face makes me narrow my eyes.

“Something tells me I’ll end up on my back for an entirely different reason.”

The men burst out in loud laughter and I push away from my husband. “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight? You guys have been missing all week.”

I can’t believe I’m even asking them this after not even wanting to be married in the first place, but I’ve grown used to them being around. And sometimes it still doesn’t feel real, even with the ring on my finger. Nothing feels different internally to make me feel like I’m a wife. Perhaps it’s because of the life Rian has and how I barely have to lift a finger to do anything. I feel stuck, like I’m in between chapters of my life, and I’m not sure what to do. The only thing I’ve clung to my entire life was cooking, and I haven’t approached that subject with Rian again.

“Yes, what are you making?” he asks, grabbing a towel to wipe off his sweat.

I glance at the men. “Was there anything you guys wanted?”

“Oh, are you taking personal orders? Because I’d?—”

“Shut the fuck up, Cillian. My wife isn’t your private chef,” Rian says with an eyeroll.

Cillian gasps in faux outrage. “She would be if I asked. Isn’t that your dream?”

Aodhan groans, probably figuring I’ll take offense, and Cormac punches Cillian in the stomach. I can see pure fury rolling over Rian’s face so I force out a laugh.

“Your private chef? Absolutely not. I may take suggestions when I own a restaurant, but that’s the extent of the effort I’d make for you.”

Rian blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Don’t mind the idiot, he speaks before he thinks. It’s something we were never able to train him out of.”

He pulls me out of the room as Cillian starts to argue while Aodhan and Cormac begin speaking over him. Rian wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I have to shower. Want to join me?”

My heart pangs at the fact I actually missed him over the last few days, and I feel crazy for that. I shake my head. “No, I’m going to start dinner if you’re staying. I want to give time for the dough to rest.”

“Handmade pasta? You spoil us,” he says with a grin and it lights up his face. My breath stalls a second from the beauty of it. I find it harder every day to stay mad at him, knowing he’s going to be mine forever. Marriage has always seemed like a burden, but the fierce possessiveness I feel when I know he goes out with our ring on display should be studied. It also makes me feel like a fool, a silly little girl who has fallen for a pretty man who knows how to fuck like a god. My mind is a constant spiral of confusion.

He watches me for another moment before leaning down and brushing his lips against mine. I sigh into his kiss, deepening it when he doesn’t pull away. His fingers flex on my waist. “You sure you don’t want to join me?” Rian whispers against my mouth.

I laugh softly. “You know we can’t just fuck all day?”

“Says who? I’m the boss.”

Pushing at his chest, I bite my lip and shake my head again. “Go before you tempt me to say yes.”

* * *

Pulling off my gloves, I hand them to Greg with a smile. He’s been more than accommodating to add things in the greenhouse, including a fresh selection of herbs. I can’t wait to see them grow.

“We can always rip out the shrubs if you need more room, Mrs. O’Callaghan,” he tells me with an excited nod.

I glance to where he’s pointing. “What flowers bloom there?”

“Sabhaircín.”

“Primrose,” Rian says and I turn to face him, startled. He and the rest of the men disappeared before I even finished dinner the other day, I’m woken up briefly by Rian kissing my forehead every morning before they’re gone again. Being stuck in this never-ending limbo of wondering what’s going on is slowly boring me to death.

He watches with amusement. “In English it’s called primrose. My mother planted them.”

“Then we keep them,” I say.

Greg nods and scurries off, and I hold out my hand for Rian to pull me up from the ground. His arms wrap around my waist when I stand.

“You don’t have to keep them. They’re just flowers, Isabelle.”

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