Page 72 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“Sold?” She had to stop him. “I think you meanbootlegged.”
Merrick’s mouth slammed shut, settling into his trademark scowl.
“We need to talk about last night, Merrick,” she said. “I’ve been waiting all day to discuss it.”
“What’s there to talk about?” His eyes were flat.
“I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you?” Surely she was worth that much to him.
“I didn’t realize I had to run my business decisions by you.” He dunked the copper tube into the barrel and filled a jar halfway with bourbon. He tipped it to his lips. There was none of the grace, none of the magic, she’d seen moments before. This was swallowing to get corked, not to taste. “If we’re headed down this road, I’m going to need a hell of a lot more to drink.”
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she ambled closer. “How does it work?”
“It’s called a whiskey thief.” He held the tube out for her inspection. “For thieving samples from barrels. It’s simple—pressurized and released by your thumb.”
“A whiskey thief…how appropriate,” she murmured. “This is how you spend your days—drinking and thieving? No wonder you fell in with bootleggers.”
Merrick leaned against a barrel, folding his arms. “I can’t change the choices I made before you, Margot. My deal with Capone’s men was struck more than a decade ago.”
“Adecade?Ten years of lawbreaking.” The thought made her faint. “Weren’t you worried about getting caught?”
“Not as worried as I was about losing the distillery. Bills don’t pay themselves.”
“What about a medicinal license?” He’d spoken of it the night they first met. She knew he had a deal with the George T. Stag Distillery, a perfectly legal one.
“That’s a small loophole, not nearly enough to keep an entire estate afloat. It’s the only reason I was able to keep my bourbon barrels here, though, rather than turning them over to the government when the Volstead Act passed.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s very complicated, and the finer details don’tmatter—”
“They matter to me!” Her cheeks flushed, her voice rising. Beau startled at her feet. “Those men last night, those…thugs…” She spat the word. “They’re dangerous. They could hurt you,killyou.”
“Concerned, love?” He tilted his head, his scowl turning charming, almost mocking. “I’m touched.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“You can’t…joke and charm this away. I won’t let you. This is serious, Merrick. You’re done dealing with them, right? It’s over?”
“Yes. Of course.” His expression turned more sincere. He took both her forearms in his hands. “I promise. The debt is settled. No more sneaking out. No more bootlegging. Not ever again.”
She searched his face for any trace of deceit, relieved when she came up empty. “Okay.” She blew out a slow exhale. “Now, about the other thing…”
“What other thing?” But a flicker in his eye told her he knew. Or suspected.
He’s going to make me say it.“You said something last night that surprised me.” She waited again, hoping he’d speak up.
He didn’t.
“Something about…celibacy?”
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“And?” He lowered his eyes, refusing to meet hers.
“And I…well, I wondered if…how…” She trailed off. This was so painful. “Is that a…a lifestyle choice?”A permanent one?
He laughed at her, ironic and bitter. It punched her in the gut, the tenor of that laugh.
“I only wondered because—”
