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I rolled my eyes. “Good to know.”
His hand was back in his pocket but this time, he retrieved a small box. A very small, very velvet-covered box.
Eyes wide, I watched as he opened it and without any ceremony, took my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger.
My mouth worked as I studied the unusual piece of jewelry, a very unobvious engagement ring, then I whispered, “Why now?”
“Because we’ll have a tomorrow and I don't want to spend it with anyone but you.”
The words were simple, and in his eyes, there was a warmth that blasted some of the frost settling in my bones that had started to form after learning of O’s death.
Heartburn.
Major fucking heartburn.
I rubbed my thumb over the emerald in the setting. “You were just carrying this around? By chance?”
“Not exactly by chance,” he dismissed. “Da gave it to me in his will. It’s been in the family for a long time.”
“It was your ma’s?”
“No. My grandmother didn’t like Ma.” So, she had great taste then. “Normally, she would have given it to Da when he proposed, but she didn’t give it to him until she died as part of her estate.”
That had my brows lifting. “He gave it to you? Not Aidan Jr.?”
“No. He seemed to think…” His words waned, then he shrugged. “It’s mine and I want you to have it.”
I stared at the strangely antique setting. It was a cabochon emerald with a woman’s face etched into the stone. The cameo was still fresh despite its antiquity, while the yellow gold had scratches from wear and tear.
It wasn’t me at all.
Yet… I loved it.
“Who’s the woman?” I asked softly.
“There’s a story there,” he promised, “and one day, I’ll tell you. But not yet, okay?”
“Why not? Was she the first highwaywoman in Ireland or something?”
His lips curved. “No, nothing like that.”
“That smile says it’s exactly like that.”
Glee flashed in his eyes but his words were lofty: “You’ll find out someday. Will you wear it?”
I could have leveraged the story for a promise to wear the damn thing, but no part of me wanted to hand it back to him.
We both knew what it meant. We both knew that it represented the future. We both knew that I was nowhere near ready for marriage. Yet, it bound me to him in a way that would cement ties with his family.
“Why didn’t you give this to me earlier?” I rumbled, not annoyed, just intrigued.
His brothers’ third degree hadn’t been painful, had, in fact, made me respect them. Not only because they cared for Conor, but because they were aware of my past and knew that it made me as slippery as an eel.
I appreciated a smart man—Conor was proof of that—but I enjoyed it more when men knew to tread carefully around me. Especially deadly men like the O’Donnellys.
“Because it wasn’t the right time.”
Frowning, I shot a look at the laptop screen where mangled corpses lay out in Troy’s front yard for the whole world to see. “And this is the right time?”
