As Damian laid out the past events leading up to the meeting for Draven and Fintan, Dubheasa listened intently. She’d only received secondhand accounts from her siblings and hadn’t been in the thick of things as they happened, like the rest of the O’Malleys were. A large part of her was upset that her sister and brothers had held back the bulk of the information from her. Despite being the same age as Eoin, she was still considered the baby of their family, and as such, the rest of the O’Malleys tended to protect her from hardships or strife. She wished they knew her a little better and gave her more credit as an adult.
“Sounds like Loman O’Connor is a real fine piece of work,” Draven said with a sharp look toward Ronan. “Why didn’t you stab the bastard in his sleep before now?”
“He warded his room each night,” Ronan replied with a grimace. “But don’t be thinkin’ I didn’t want to.”
How awful must it have been to hate a parent so much one wished them dead? And for that reason to be because they broke their child’s trust and abused them unmercifully? Dubheasa’s anger toward Loman was building with each transgression she heard. If the man were standing in front of her, she’d gladly shove a blade through his unfeeling heart.
Across the table, Damian locked eyes with her. His narrowed in consideration as if he was weighing her thoughts and feelings, but he never stopped detailing the rest of the situation. When he concluded his speech and opened the floor for a question-and-answer session, Dubheasa held up her hand.
“How do we get Loman’s attention and provoke the man into action? From what I’ve heard here, he’s always been the aggressor and steps ahead of everyone in our group.” She glanced at her brothers. “You know we can’t let him strike first this time. The collateral damage is always too great when he does. We take the fight to him, yeah?”
Eoin looked on board with her plan while Carrick appeared more thoughtful and cautious. Cian, on the other hand, was already shaking his head. “You and Bridget will be sitting this one out, to be sure.”
“You seem to have me confused with someone you can be ordering about, brother,” she replied tartly.
“Dubh—”
“No, Cian. This concerns Ronan, and by default, me.” Reluctantly, afraid of what she’d see, she turned her head to meet Ronan’s steady gaze. Pride, or something like it, shone in those silvery depths, and she released the breath she’d been holding. “He’s not seen my face, and I’m the one who stands the best chance of getting close to him.”
Adamantly, he shook his head. “That’s not our most brilliant move, Dove. He’s not after caring who you are and will steal your magic, given the chance.”
She grinned. “Then that’s our plan to lure him out. What better way to trap a mouse than offer up a slice of cheese?”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but closed it again with a resigned sigh.
“You know me better than my own brothers,” she told him through their link.
“I know you’re after giving me heart failure. But the idea has merit.”
“No!” Cian came around to their side of the table and crouched next to her chair. “Dubheasa, you’ve not met the man, and you’ve no clue how dangerous he can be. It’s a fool’s errand for you to put yourself in his sights, it is. I’m askin’ ya not to do it.”
“If you come up with a better plan to get to him, I’ll listen, but we’ll do it my way before we sit here like ducks and wait for him to use us for target practice.”
“I agree with your sister,” Damian said. “With each attack, your family has had to be on the defense. It’s time to be on the offense.”
“He’ll not take kindly to being hunted,” Castor warned. “I know my brother, and if you corner him, he’ll turn rabid. Ronan, back me up here.”
“Aye. He’s deadly either way, sure, but you’ve got the right of it. The man’s cunning on a good day. On a bad one? He’s Machiavellian and pure evil.”
Trevor leaned forward. “It’s not as if Dubheasa will be left alone. We’ll all have eyes and ears on her. And I feel we should plant an electronic device somewhere on her person, should Loman anticipate a magical tracker.”
“That’s all well and good, but we need to find him prior to delivering her up as bait,” Alastair inserted. “My understanding is that the man isn’t on anyone’s radar, the deities’ included, so this entire conversation is a moot point.”
In the corner of the room, Draven straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “What if we offer two for the price of one?” He looked right at Ronan. “You and your girl, in a location he’s sure to hear about through the grapevine?”
“Please explain, Masters,” the Aether said, an intrigued expression on his face.
A crafty smile curled Draven’s mouth, and a wicked gleam entered his eyes. “Ask yourself, friend, will Loman O’Connor be able to resist attendin’ his own son’s weddin’? I think not.”
Dubheasa’s heart jumped up into her throat, and she sputtered an automatic denial. A faux marriage didn’t sit well with her, not for herself and certainly not for any other woman pretending to join Ronan in holy matrimony. But it was the latter that had her the saltiest.
“Draven Masters, you devious delight!” Castor laughed and turned sparkling eyes their way. “There’s no way he doesn’t show to ruin your life, nephew o’ mine. The fucking vain peacock.”
Stomach churning, Dubheasa glanced at the faces around the table as Draven’s plan formed. Anyone not related to her looked like they thought his idea a fecking grand one. Her siblings were going to be harder to convince.
Ronan’s terse “no” caused her to whip her head back toward him.
“Sure, and what’s wrong with it, then?” The question poured out of her mouth before she could prevent it. It wasn’t as if she was enthusiastic about the suggestion, but if he was rejecting her involvement in either the marriage or the trap, he’d be telling her why and soon.
“I’ll not have you be a sitting target, Dove,” he said in a gentle tone. If it weren’t for his troubled eyes, she might’ve chafed under his comment, regardless of how sweetly he said it.
“And I’m not chuffed to be bait, either. But what is the alternative, then? How are we to draw him out?” Damn her own logical hide! Why was she suddenly okay with something she’d planned to object to a minute before?
“What if we use an alternate bride?” Quentin suggested, speaking for the first time since arriving.
Dubheasa glanced in his direction and was taken aback when she registered his resemblance to Ronan. Not in coloring. No, he was quite the opposite, with his twinkling milk-chocolate eyes and his dark mocha hair. But his strong, perfect features were pure Ronan: chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and full mouth that looked as if he smiled frequently. To say nothing of his large build and shoulders that took up a great deal of real estate in the room.
Quentin appeared happier and more laid back than Ronan, who never quite relaxed, but perhaps Quentin’s peace came from having people who cared about him. Healthy relationships made a world of difference.
As his words sunk in, Dubheasa scowled. “If anyone will be standing up at the altar with Ronan, you can be sure it will be me, yeah?”
Eoin laughed heartily at the same time Cian choked on a biscuit. Bridget remained quiet for the first time in her life, but she didn’t appear surprised by Dubheasa’s emphatic response. Only Carrick remained unaffected, as if he didn’t care if she wanted Ronan for her own.
And she did.
Want him.
A forever kind of want that hadn’t struck her until she heard the word “bride” bandied about.
Standing abruptly, she croaked, “I need air.”
Ronan followed Dubheasa as she darted toward the alley between the inn and the pub. He hung back to give her a minute to herself, but it was dangerous for her to be out of his sight. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned it before, but if Loman took one look at her, he’d see those brilliant green eyes of hers and instantly know she was an O’Malley. But Ronan was proud of her fierceness and her willingness to stop his da no matter the cost.
As Dubheasa paced along the cobblestones, muttering to herself, Ronan turned off their mental connection and lounged in the doorway of the Black Cat, allowing her the privacy she needed to work through her thoughts.
Draven’s plan was clever and likely to work, but Ronan’s reticence to involve Dubheasa came from the desire to keep her safe. His father possessed a cunning mind, and the others seemed to forget he wasn’t a dumb animal to fall so easily into a trap. Loman was a strategist and weighed every move before he made it. Yes, the man could be reactive, but he actually listened when others spoke and took things into account.
Until now, Ronan had forgotten exactly how great his da was at these types of war games. And it was war. One evil O’Connor remained and was willing to destroy an entire family to get what he wanted. Loman had no conscience and cared not who he hurt to gain the power he craved.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Dubheasa had stopped in front of him, calmer than when she’d left the kitchen. The cool mid-morning air colored her skin, making her cheeks and nose a berry red. Ronan smiled at the sight.
“You forgot a coat, love.” He straightened and opened his arms. “Come, and I’ll warm ya.”
She grinned. “The first magic I learned from GiGi was to warm myself.”
“Sure, and it was worth a try.” Her laughter made his soul lighter, and Ronan wished he could make her happy every day of their lives. The chances were nil that he could, but he’d give it his best go if he might hold onto this feeling forever.
Dubheasa surprised him when she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Why didn’t you attempt to calm me when you entered the alley?”
Taking a moment to shift through his thoughts on the matter and formulate a response, he said, “You didn’t need me to placate ya, Dove. You were after workin’ the problem around, and I was after lettin’ ya.” He drew back and tipped her chin up. “From the moment Anu and Isis told me I was to be a Guardian and you were to be my mate, I wasn’t given a choice. If I wanted my magic back, that was the way it had to be. But you already have abilities, and you deserve to make the decision on your own, yeah?”
“You didn’t want me for a mate?”
Her confused, somewhat-hurt frown tugged at his heartstrings.
“When I left you that morning in New York, I felt a crushing guilt for my trick. But I also experienced sadness and a longing to stay.” Lightly brushing her bangs back from her forehead, he said, “When the word ‘mate’ came up, the very first image to come to mind was you. I remembered you sleeping on your stomach with your lovely legs on display as they played peek-a-boo with the sheet. The graceful curve of your lower back was exposed, and I desperately wanted to place my lips there to tease a response from you. To spend one more day in your bed. Forget who and what I was.”
Ronan wove his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged her head back so she was focused on him and could see he was one hundred percent serious. “Do I want you for a mate? Aye. But only if you want me in return. Only if you don’t feel pressured into it. Sure, and only if you love me as madly as I love you, Dove.” Releasing her, he set her away from him. “I’ve chased and annoyed ya long enough, and now it’s time for you to figure out what it is you want. You know what’s at stake, but don’t use it to decide. Dig deep and analyze your feelings, decide what you want from life, and then, if it aligns with what the Fates have laid out for us, grand. If it doesn’t, you’ll have your answer, love.”
“You told me I had to make a decision soon.” Her uncertainty was reflected in her voice and troubled eyes.
“Aye. I also told you I’d try to buy you some time with the deities.”
“But we don’t have time, do we?”
“No.”
“Then why were you willing to lose me as a mate forever?”
He grinned at her clever deduction. “Because I love you, and love isn’t selfish. It’s meant to be freely given. Sure, I could’ve badgered you into making a decision, but you’d always wonder if it was the right one, no?”
“Ronan O’Connor, you are much more clever than anyone gives you credit for.” Once again, she hugged him around the middle and rested her ear over the area of his heart. If she listened closely, she’d hear it drumming like mad, ready to fly out of his chest.
“Don’t be spreadin’ the fact, love. It’s lazy, I am, and I don’t want others lighting a fire under me arse or attempting to make me better myself.”
Dubheasa’s laughter was light and airy, the very thing his soul needed.
“I choose you, Ronan.” Her words were so low, he almost didn’t hear them. And when he didn’t immediately react, she tilted her head back and repeated them louder. “I choose you because you’re the only man who’s ever thought about my needs. About giving me a choice for my own future. The only one who’s accepted me for who I am.”
He waited her out, hoping to hear her say she loved him, but the words didn’t cross her lips, and he had to ask himself if he could live with only desire on her part.
When her mouth fell open, as if she were waiting with bated breath for him to kiss her, he suspected he could. “Is that all, love?”
“I don’t know what else I can give you at the moment. Do I desire you? Yes. More than anyone I’ve ever met. The night with you has haunted me for months—in the best of ways. Do I love you? Look, and I don’t know.” Inching back, she shook her head. “I care deeply, to be sure. And I can’t seem to get your smile out of my mind. When I close my eyes, it’s the first thing I see. And I don’t want another woman to have you, all the same. Can that be enough for you for now?”
“Aye, it can.” He touched his mouth to hers in the most tender of kisses. She might not love him yet, but he’d never give up hope that she one day might. “And I choose you, Dubheasa O’Malley. For now. For always.”
Lightning flashed overhead, and the ensuing boom was thunderous, causing them both to jump.
“What do you suppose that means?” she asked shakily.
“Perhaps it was Anu shouting, ‘It’s about fecking time!’”