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Her hips tipped forward a little. “Does it involve sleeping under the stars?” she asked, her voice husky.
“It could. I was thinking of ruining you.”
Her brows came down. “Oh, no.”
He blinked. “Nay?”
“Absolutely not.” She went up on her toes and pressed her mouth beside his ear. “I think tonight, I shall ruin you.”
His blood surged at the thought of her on her knees before him. He cupped his hands under her bottom and lifted a little. “I’ll have suggestions for you, lass.”
“You will show me how,” she whispered in agreement, and he lost himself in the kiss…until the sound of a step dragged his attention away.
A pair of boots stood a few feet away.
No. Two pairs. Very large ones.
Máel lifted his head. “Curse your names, you black-souled
bastards.”
Cassia turned slowly, to find two towering Irishman before her. One had eyes even more blue than Máel’s, ice-blue and cold, despite the smile touching his mouth.
“And curse you,” the blue-eyed one replied, “leaving a message on the fucking table.”
Cassia’s jaw fell.
“Do you know how often we look at the table?” he added, leaning a shoulder against the tree.
“Do you know how often we clean the table?” demanded the second Irishman who was, quite simply, glorious. As a lover of beauty, Cassia had to admit he almost took her breath away. Perhaps it was the lazy, sensual smile he turned to her.
“Cassia,” Máel said gruffly, turning her to face them. “These are my brothers, the bastards.”
“Fáelán and Rowan,” she said before he could finish the introduction, and dipped into a deep curtsey as if they were royalty. “Máel has spoken of you.”
“Ah, shite,” said Rowan, but he was smiling at Cassia as he said it. “We are not bastards, my lady, I swear it.” He swept a hand over his heart and gave a small bow.
Máel tightened his hand around Cassia’s waist. “You are a bastard, and a late one at that.”
Fáelán examined the castle, then Máel’s sword belt. “I see you got your sword back.”
Máel’s hand flexed over the hilt. “I got my sword back.”
“Good.”
“You and Tadgh and your precious daggers and swords,” muttered Rowan.
“And d’Argent?” Fáe said. “Where is he?”
Cassia stirred gently, like a leaf rustling in a breeze.
“The only d’Argent that matters is right here,” Máel said. “This is Lady Cassia d’Argent.”
Fáelán and Rowan both gave the smallest start of surprise, but they were well-used to the strange ways fate could unravel, and they began to smile, too. They bowed to her, but she stopped them with a quick shake of her head.
“Please, that is not my due anymore. I am a simple rogue’s wife. Or will be, soon.”
Fáe’s brow winged up. “Wife?”
