Page 204 of Three Irish Kings
“That’s why I got sparkling cider for you,mo chroí.”
He pours cider into a champagne flute and hands it to her, pouring himself some cider, too.
“You’re not drinking?”
Liam blanches.
Dare and I chuckle, knowing how drunk he got the day she was kidnapped and how he hasn’t wanted to touch the stuff since.
She narrows her eyes. “Is this an inside joke? Because I demand to be part of all inside jokes from now on.”
Liam looks at us desperately, as if begging us not to tell, but I know Dare will anyway. He can’t help himself.
“Liam got shitfaced after we found out you were pregnant,” Dare blurts out, and Liam groans, covering his face with one hand.
Her eyes widen. “Liam?I can’t even imagine him drunk.”
“Guys,” Liam mutters, still not looking at us. “Stop.”
“Absolutely not,” Dare says cheerfully. “All he could talk about is you, Isla. Just babbling about how much he?—”
Liam claps his hand over Dare’s mouth.
Dare laughs, the sound muffled by Liam’s hand.
Isla grins slyly. “Oh? You’ll have to tell me more.”
“Not on my watch,” Liam mutters and finally moves away from Dare.
But Dare doesn’t push it, and I think that's for the best. Out of all of us, Liam took the longest time to accept his feelings for Isla.
Liam finally relaxes, sipping his cider while Dare is relegated to one glass since alcohol and painkillers don’t mix.
I have a glass of cider myself, chatting with Isla.
Liam and Dare just look at us, bemused, maybe a little jealous.
But I don’t care. Jealousy happens; it’s a human emotion. What matters is that we have Isla, and she makes us all happy. She makes us all better men.
But leaving the life will be difficult, especially for me. It’s hard to know who I am without it, since as long as I can remember, I’ve been nothing more than a weapon.
Chapter Fifty-Four
ISLA
I tellmyself I won’t fall asleep on the plane, wanting to enjoy being in a private jet for the first time in my life.
But about three hours in, the emotional and physical exhaustion catch up with me, and I start to doze off on Cillian’s shoulder.
“Mo chroí.”Liam shakes me awake gently. “I would carry you if I could, but it’s time to go.”
I rub my eyes, yawning. “Are you finally going to tell me where we are?”
He grins. “You’ll see.”
I pout, but he just takes my hand, tugging me up. I bounce against his chest and appreciate the firmness of it.
He leans down to kiss me softly, probably the sweetest kiss Liam has ever given me. He was always so rough in bed that our kisses were borderline feral before.
