Page 84 of Your Coffin or Mine
He groans. “That’s a lot.”
“It shouldn’t take long, and need I remind you: it was you who decided to use the great hall as an antique catch-all. We can move the furniture in one night. I need it to be perfect for her.”
Doyle chuckles, as if he knows something I don’t.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just something Whitley said about the seating and dining.”
“Whitley, is it? Have you made up already or does she still wish to flay you alive and turn your cock into a whoopie cushion?”
He winces, and I can’t help a satisfied smirk. For as long as I can remember, Doyle has been a pain in my backside. No one in all that time has ever managed to get under the skin of theunflappable guard—a position he carved for himself. I refuse to feel an ounce of empathy for the man when it has been his life’s mission to annoy me for over a century.
“I would rather chop my own dick off. Just the scent of the woman sets me on edge,” he says, his accent changing to that of a Londoner.
I stop in the hallway and ponder that for a moment. “On edge how? Like you want to bed her?”
“Definitely not. Did you not hear what I just said?”
The level of animosity he seems to have for the woman is troubling.
“Maybe we should consult Jekyll?” I ask.
At one time, Jekyll was the only doctor who could treat Doyle, especially when his turning made it almost impossible to reason with him.
He bristles, and the hair at the nape of his neck lifts, but he shakes his head. “No need. She’s not a threat, just annoying and completely unbiddable. The woman must have been raised in a barn. I have met dozens of chefs over the years, and never have I had such a reaction.”
“No matter. I’ll ask Frank to do a search. Maybe he will come up with something you missed.”
His mouth goes flat as his eyes darken. “I already have.”
Shocking. He’s been in talks with Frank and didn’t think to tell me—strange. “And?”
“Everything checks out. She comes highly recommended, even. Logically, my reasoning tells me I’m the problem.”
Irritation pours over me. “Then keep that shit to yourself and help me. I need this all to go well, and your bullshit does not help matters at all. What if she discovers what I am?” I say, shoving him to the wall. “What we are. You are literally vibrating with the change.”
“I will handle it. It has to be the full moon.”
“Doyle, there’s a fucking full moon every month. We have seen every full moon, every month, for the last two hundred years together, so don’t give me that rubbish like it’s Frank you’re talking to. It’s as ridiculous as watching bouncing cat videos.”
He chuckles as his eyes roll at me. “Those are spectacular.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Absolutely ridiculous. I don’t care how much the media adores them, they’re obviously not intelligent enough to realize cats want dominion over humans.”
“You are absurd.”
“What’s absurd is how furious I will be if this evening doesn’t go to plan.”
He snorts. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“My only concern is that, tomorrow night, Aubrey gets what she asked for—to keep her busy for the next week.”
“You’ve talked her into staying longer already?”
“She will be staying in my room as my guest, and the rest is none of your concern,” I say pointedly as I kneel and press the pressure plate to slide the fireplace from its position in the great hall.
He blows out a hard breath. “You understand that once Aubrey posts about the castle, or anything remotely about you, her ex will make things worse.”
