Page 7 of The Winter Laird

Brianagh zipped her suitcase and rolled her eyes as Reilly dropped onto her bed, his large frame dwarfing its size. She gingerly moved his booted feet off her comforter. “It’s simple. Matthew proposed and I said yes. I need some time to process it, and Ireland is a good place to process things.”

Reilly shook his head. He folded his arms over his chest and stared silently at her, waiting for her to explain further.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t pull that strong-but-silent thing with me,” she said. “You know that when you cross your arms like that, all your muscles bunch up. It’s revolting.”

Reilly grinned. “The lasses don’t agree with you there.” He flexed and wagged his eyebrows at her.

“Ew, Ry.” She hauled the suitcase off the end of the bed and the zipper split. She gave it a glare and kicked it for good measure.

“Everything, Brianagh.”

She huffed out a groan. “Fine. The truth is I need to think this out logically. You know, weigh the pros and cons.”

“I’ve never heard a lass so recently engaged looking to make a list of pros and cons.” Reilly raised an eyebrow. “Do you really have such deep affection for him, that you’re willing to tie yourself to him for life?”

Bri frowned.Lifesounded so…long, when put that way.

“Whatever happened to romance? Finding someone who makes your pulse race?”

She snorted. “Reilly, come on. I’m twenty-nine. I’ve had exactly two relationships. The first one—”

“He wasn’t a man, Brianagh. The boy wet himself when James, Colin and I had a little chat with him. You need a real man.”

She threw him a slitty-eyed look. “You bullied him. I don’t care that he, um…wait. He really wet himself?”

Reilly nodded gravely.

“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, the fact is, I have so much in my life already. I can’t expect to have everything handed to me on a silver platter. My lot in life is business. I’m probably not even cut out for all that pulse-racing nonsense.”

“What if you were fated for something different?”

Brianagh cocked her head. “If fate had anything to do with marriage, I wouldn’t have a business.”

“Sounds like excuses to me,” Reilly replied dubiously.

The doorbell rang, interrupting them. Reilly held a hand out. “Sit. I’ll answer it.”

After years of arguing with him, Bri decided to fight the battle with her suitcase instead. Reilly had been in her life since before she could remember—and he hadn’t any parents either. Perhaps that was why their bond was so strong; they were more brother and sister than cousins. He had been to every school play, dried her tears, and applauded her accomplishments. She adored him…but he could get incredibly annoying, incredibly fast. He was a throwback to another time—she never could place her finger on it, but whenever she said something to him, Reilly would grin at her and proclaim that as long as he lived, chivalry wasn’t dead.

The smile on her face only grew as he walked back into her room with her aunt at his side.

“What are you doing here?” Bri asked, hugging Evelyn tightly.

Evelyn smiled. “It’s pouring outside, and I thought you two may not want to walk to the subway with all your bags.”

“I had planned to call us a cab,” she replied, “but I’ll take a ride, since you came into the city for us!”

Evelyn shook her head, amused. “Well, I also have this to give you. It’s something that’s been handed down on my side—our side—of the family when a woman is engaged.” Evelyn smiled, a bit sadly, as she handed Brianagh a box. “It’s very old,” she warned. “Something we O’Rourkes have always worn on our wedding day.”

Bri tore off the wrapping and opened the box, and her breath left her in a whoosh.

She pulled out a circular silver brooch about the size of her hand. The image on the front was worn, but the elaborately etched hawk was still glorious. Peering closer, she noticed the small shield in the middle of the hawk’s chest: the letterMwith tiny leaves of ivy snaking their way around each line of the letter…and a sword slicing across theMand all its foliage. Everything, down to the last feather on the hawk, was etched in fine detail, at least it had been at one point.

“Amazing. How old is it?” she asked, running her fingers over it. A shiver traveled down her spine, and she pulled her hand away as if burned. “It almost feels as though it’s humming.”

Reilly’s face turned ashen.

Alarmed, she asked him, “Do you know what this is?”

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