Page 21 of Brutal Vows
“Why is it daft?”
“Did ye not just attend the same bloody meeting I did? Caruso’s a colossal lickarse! The sister wants to cut out yer tongue! They live in a place with scenes hand-painted on the walls of fairies and devils effin’ each other!”
He’s so worked up, I wouldn’t be surprised if his head exploded.
“None of that matters. Lili’s a sweet lass. She’ll make a fine wife. And the terms of the contract are excellent. I’m going ahead with it.”
I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the seat so I don’t have to see Kieran gaping at me.
I can still hear him, however, sputtering in protest.
“But… did you even like the wee lass? I mean… were you attracted to her?”
No. Which is why it’s so perfect. The last thing I want is a wife I’m attracted to.
Like Reyna, for instance.
I’d never be able to focus on anything else if I were married to a woman like that. All I’d be able to think about would be that fine arse and those gorgeous tits and holding her down so I could shove my hard cock inside her beautiful wet cunt.
It’s already difficult not to think about it, and I only met her an hour ago.
“Unbelievable,” Kieran mutters.
“Don’t say it.”
“This is about Riley, isn’t it?”
“I said,don’t say it. Drop the bloody topic.”
He ignores that as well, as I knew he would.
“Yer a right prick to marry a lass to try to get over a different one!”
My sigh is heavy. I open my eyes and look at him. “I’m nottryingto get over her, I’m already over her. But thank you for your unsolicited opinion. Now shut your gob. You’re making my headache worse.”
Kieran huffs. “Jesus, God, and all the saints. Ye stubborn barmy bastard.”
“If it makes you feel any better, arsehole, think of it this way: at least with me, the lass will have her own bloody life. If she married one of her own kind, she’d be chained to a stove in the kitchen. Or worse, chained to a bed and forced to be a baby-making machine.”
He eyes me. “Uh-huh. And what about the baby makin’ between the two of ye?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if yer not attracted to the lass, how’re ye gonna get yer flute to play a tune for her?”
Maybe I’ll think about her beautiful, homicidal aunt.
Jesus Christ, you bloody wanker, get control of yourself! What’s the matter with you?
I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the seat again.
There’s a long, loaded pause. “Ye can’t be tellin’ me yer not gonna have sex with yer own wife.”
“She’s only eighteen fucking years old. I’d feel like a pedophile.”
“So what’s the plan? Ye’ll wait until she’s old enough to order a pint at a pub?”
When I remain silent, he heaves a sigh. “Yer the biggest eejit in all the land, and that’s a fact.”
