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“You’ve asked me that before,” I smirk at her, my mare picking up the pace as well. “Of course I do. But watching your ass bounce up and down like that, it’s quite difficult to think of anything else at this particular moment.”
Saoirse shoots me a glare. “Who says I’ll need to be taught, anyway?” Her green eyes meet mine in what looks to me very much like a challenge. “I’ve been riding horses for years. I’m sure I can ride a cock just fine.”
The sound of Saoirse’s sweet voice sayingcockhas mine instantly hard, tangled in my boxers and throbbing uncomfortably, considering my current position. I’d left my leather jacket back at the barn, as had Saoirse, and the sudden breeze that springs up as we near the beach is a relief, cooling my blood a little. It’s several degrees cooler here, and I see Saoirse’s skin prickle, but she doesn’t let out as much as a hint of discomfort.
“Can you gallop?” she asks suddenly, turning towards me, and I blink at her.
“What do you mean—” I start to say, but Saoirse throws me a bright, challenging grin as we emerge onto the beach and leans forward, giving her stallion his head as she squeezes him with her thighs.
“Saoirse!” The word is whipped away by the wind as she charges forward, the stallion’s muscles bunching powerfully under his sleek dappled coat as he bursts forward across the sand. A moment’s fear lances through me, followed by a sort of stunned admiration—because Saoirse was right when she said she knew what she was doing.
My mare snorts and prances, jerking at the reins, wanting to be given her freedom to run too. “So that’s how it’s going to be,” I mutter under my breath. “Here goes nothing.”
I was wrong. A thousand pounds of muscle taking off beneath you is nothing like a motorcycle, and I’ve never galloped on a horse before. My mare isn’t about to be left behind. She leaps forward the moment I urge her faster, closing the distance between Saoirse and me more quickly than I’d thought possible. For a moment, I’m certain I’m going to lose my balance and fall, but then I lean with my mount the way I would on my bike, feeling the rhythm of her strides, and I find my balance, leaning forward the way Saoirse is ahead of me.
That’s the moment that I realize how beautiful it all truly is.
The sky above us is clouded grey, the wind salt-tinged and rushing past, the surf crashing around our horses’ hooves as we gallop down the length of the beach. I can smell the rain from earlier in the air and see Saoirse’s flushed skin as she glances back at me over her shoulder, her red hair streaming behind her, a bright flood of color in the greys and whites of the beach surrounding us.
By the time she reins her stallion back down to a canter, panting with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed with wind and happiness, I can feel my own blood pumping hotly in my veins, the adrenaline of the ride taking a new shape as I look at Saoirse and feel that all too familiar desire rising up again.
“Let’s take a break,” I call out to her, slowing my mare to a stop and dismounting. I was assured both horses could be ground-tied. I leave a handful of hay from the saddlebag on the side for each, shaking out the soft plaid wool blanket I brought and spreading it out on the sand some yards away from them. “Come sit with me.”
Saoirse eyes me almost suspiciously, but leaves her stallion too, coming to sit down on the blanket next to me as she smooths it out beneath her. She folds her legs sideways, glancing out at the crashing surf before looking back at me.
“This is an awfully romantic date,” she says slowly, “for a man who was very insistent that he’s uninterested in love.”
I shrug, as if I hadn’t been reconsidering the very same thing on the way here. “I wanted to take you somewhere away from prying eyes and ears where we could talk,” I say simply, and it’s true. “I wanted us to talk about our future, just us. No others. No chance of anyone listening in or spying.”
“Paranoid, are you?” Saoirse teases lightly, but I can see from the look in her eyes that she understands. “So, what is it you want to tell me?”
I pause, glancing out at the water and the horses snuffling contentedly through the sand, tired from their run. “Some of it I’ve said already, but it bears repeating. The Kings will be mine, Saoirse, and mine alone. Your father may keep his seat, but I won’t be ruled by him—or by him through you. Once we are married, most especially, I expect your loyalty. You will bemywife, and your interests will be aligned with mine.”
“But not fidelity,” Saoirse says softly. “From either of us.”
“No.” I glance at her, unable to help wondering if she’s saying it out of regret or desire for someone else. The memory of Niall coming out of her room, even if it was as innocent as she says, still burns in my gut—but I don’t want to tell her not to speak to him, either. I don’t want her to think that I’m that jealous.
I don’t want her to think I care that much.
“You’ll give me an heir, and then as long as you use protection, you may fuck who you please,” I tell her flatly. “And I’ll do the same. I won’t sire children with any other woman, and you will not become pregnant by any other man. That—the creation of our family and the continuing of the McGregor legacy, will be our bond and our duty. Pleasure can be found elsewhere.”
Even as I say it, I know I’m not being entirely truthful with either of us. The idea that there won’t be pleasure in our marriage bed is ridiculous. Even now, I’m throbbing just at the thought of her naked in my bed, and we’re not even touching.
It won’t last. It can’t. It never has before.
I want what I haven’t yet had, like all men. Once I’ve tasted her and made her mine, her appeal will lessen until I find someone new to lust after, someone new to chase.
Slowly, I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the velvet box I’d stashed there before leaving the hotel. Saoirse’s eyes widen, and she stares at it, her green eyes flicking up to mine.
“You’re meant to give me that at the betrothal ceremony.”
“Indeed. And I will. But I wanted to have your promise here, now, between us. Your assurance that you understand how things will be in our marriage and accept it.” I look at her evenly, trying to quell the desire that I can feel rising up. “I don’t want to hurt you, Saoirse. I don’t want there to be pain or misunderstandings in our relationship. I think that if we both make the choice for this arrangement to be what it is, we can live a pleasant life together. It doesn’t need to be dramatic or turbulent. It could be peaceful, even. If we understand one another.” I open the velvet box slowly, so she can see what lies inside—a cushion cut diamond flanked by two sapphire baguettes set in platinum. “Our relationship thus far has set us at odds with each other often, Saoirse, but the rest of our lives doesn’t need to be that way.”
“Peaceful,” Saoirse echoes, looking at the ring and then at me. “I accept your terms, Connor McGregor,” she says softly. “But I want something, too.”
“What’s that?” For a moment, I’m afraid she might say that she wants my permission to fuck Niall, specifically, and that’s not something I’m sure I can give her. I don’t want to know who she fucks, and I’m fine with her not knowing the same from me.
“I’ve admitted before that I want the influence and money that comes with being your wife,” Saoirse says slowly, pushing a lock of red hair behind her ear. “But not for the reasons you think. It’s not because I want to spoil myself or buy myself nice things. I’ve had that all my life.” She turns towards me fully, her face serious—earnest, even. “I’ll do what you ask, Connor. I’ll be a good and loyal wife to you. I’ll give you heirs, turn a blind eye to your other women so long as you keep them away from me and our home, and I’ll keep my lovers discreet as well. But I want to be more than a wife and a mother. I want something for myself, something more fulfilling than the kind of life my mother has led, the kind I’ve always seen from women like her.”
