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"Well, maybe handcuffed and hanging out the window would be a better description," he said, planting a quick kiss against her lips before shifting to look over the side of the tub to see what he was doing.
She laughed as she turned in his arms so that she could lay her head against his chest, careful of his shoulder. "Please tell me that you didn't really do that to poor Denny."
"Had to," he mumbled as he continued his search.
"And why is that?"
"Because," he said, turning his attention back to her as he picked up her left hand and slid something on her finger, "he was keeping me from you and I didn't want to spend one more minute on this earth without you, Marty. Marry me?"
For a moment she could only stare at the beautiful diamond ring on her finger. It took her a second before she could remember where she’d seen this ring before. It was the ring his grandmother left him when he was fifteen. She'd been a child the last time she saw it, but she'd dreamed of wearing it one day and now she was.
"I know that I've screwed up in the past and that I'm probably rushing this, Marty, but I just can't stomach the idea of going one more day without making you mine," he said as he entwined their fingers together. "Please give me a chance."
This was insane, she told herself as she looked down at the ring on her finger. They hadn't dated and they'd only been together for a day, two tops, but what was even crazier was the fact that she wanted to say yes, more like scream it. He couldn't be serious, she thought as she looked up and met his eyes and just like that she knew that he was dead serious and she was lost.
"I don't want to waste another minute, Marty," he said softly as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. "Say yes."
"Are you still going to be an ass**le?" she asked, desperately trying to buy some time to think clearly.
"Yes," he said with absolutely no hesitation, "but you can kick my ass if I step out of line."
"Marriage is forever," she stupidly pointed out as she felt something close to panic claw at her chest.
"And that's how long I plan on loving you, Marty," he said as he leaned in and kissed her.
“B-but I haven’t even told you that I love you yet!”
He chuckled as he brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t need to hear it.”
“Damn you’re cocky,” she sighed against his lips, loving the way his lips felt against hers as they curled up.
“Yes, but you love me anyway.”
With a soft groan, she admitted it. “I do love you, Tristan, even if you piss me off.”
“Then that’s all that matters, Marty,” he said before deepening the kiss.
There was so much that they needed to talk about, so much that she didn't know about this man. Her parents had rushed into marriage and the results had been disastrous. They'd barely known each other and only found out too late that they had nothing in common and no future. She didn't want that and she sure as hell didn't want the man that she loved hating her one day.
Saying yes to him would be foolish and she was not a foolish person.
Chapter 24
One month later.......
"I really don't see why yer so angry," Shayne mused as he leaned back in the overstuffed recliner that he’d demanded Tristan buy for him so that he could watch Gilligan's Island in comfort.
Breathe in. Breathe out, Tristan told himself as he clenched and unclenched his hands, struggling against the urge to strangle his friend.
"It's hardly my fault that Marty is pissed at ye, lad," Shayne pointed out with a shrug as he focused on some lame ass 80's monster movie.
"She's. Not. Pissed. At. Me," Tristan bit out through clenched teeth.
Shayne sighed heavily as he shook his head, shooting Tristan a pitying look. "Lad, when are ye gonna learn that when a woman is screaming at ye that yer in deep shit?"
He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he answered, truly afraid that he'd do something that he'd regret....eventually.
"For the last time," he said tightly, opening his eyes, "she wasn't screaming at me."
"I could hear her all the way down here, lad. She sounded pretty pissed if ye ask me."
"She wasn't screaming at me, you ass**le! She was screaming my name!" Tristan snapped.
"Yes," Shayne agreed slowly as if he were speaking with a small, confused child, "as she yelled at ye, lad. I'm thinking that after a month of her screaming at ye like that, that ye'd finally get the hint and move on. Ye really should take the hint, lad. It's kind of pathetic at this point."
"For the last time," he ground out, "my wife wasn't screaming at me because she was mad at me, you jackass! She was screaming my name while I was making love to her!"
Shayne frowned up at him. "And ye actually stopped just to come down here and tell me that?"
"No, what I came down here to tell you was that another one slipped by you," Tristan said tightly as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the dumb dead bastard who actually had the balls to ask if he could take over Tristan's body so that he could "Get some of that."
Up until that point, Tristan had been able to ignore the bastard's presence, but the moment the man had laid his hands on him to try and take over, which wasn't possible, he lost it. The ice-cold pain and anguish that seeped into his skin made it difficult to focus on anything other than getting the bastard out of the room and away from Marty. When she managed to ask him why he'd stopped, he was forced to tell her that he heard something downstairs, again.
If it wasn't for their family's tendency to let themselves in and make themselves at home, she'd probably think that he was crazy every time he abruptly left the room when they were sleeping, making love, talking, or taking a shower. He really needed to have another talk with them, but right now he was more concerned by the fact that over the past month spirits had been getting by Shayne left and right and bugging the shit out of him.
When he saw the spirit throw a look of longing towards the stairs, he shook his head, once. That's all it took to keep the man from going to play peeping tom on Marty. If he so much as looked in the direction of the stairs, Tristan was going to bring the bastard down to his knees, again.
While he normally didn't bother with spirits and left the handling and sorting to Shayne that didn't mean that he couldn't do his own damage. There was a reason after all that he could see, touch and communicate with them. Whatever Shayne was, he was, but the human version. He couldn't do as much as Shayne for that reason, but he could do enough to keep them in line when he needed to control them. The problem with trying to control them was that it meant that he had to touch them and he f**king hated touching them.
