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I suddenly want to slit my father's throat. I glance back at her and sigh. "Fine, but ya just added more work to my plate."
"How?"
"I'm going to have to go find him, aren't I?"
"He'll be at home."
I scoff. "Do ya really think your da's sitting at home alone?"
Guilt fills her face.
"Aye. You know as well as I do that he'll be out trying to find a place to bet and getting drunk."
"He's still my da," she quietly states.
I shake my head and point at Dad. "I need to speak to my bride alone. You mind stepping back and minding your own business for once?"
His lips twitch again. "Not at all."
He shuts the door, and I face Maeve, warning, "If I do this for ya, going forward, ya better start having my back. Always. Do ya understand me?"
She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. "What about ya having my back?"
"I do have your back."
"No, ya don't. I told ya I wanted my da there, and all ya can say is no. Ya don't really care about what I want."
"Because it's not good for ya. It's a bad situation to put ya in, and ya shouldn't be around any stress on the wedding day."
She shakes her head. "No, it's not. And it's my choice if I want him there or not."
I stare at her, frustrated. I don't want to search for Malachy, but now I have to.
She steps forward, puts her hands on my cheeks, and her expression softens. She adds, "I'll owe ya. Please."
My dick turns hard. It's nothing new. My balls have never been so blue. Every night, we go to bed, and she reminds me that it's not the wedding night, when I can even attempt to try stuff. I'm dying to get a piece of her and take what is already legally mine. But I told myself I would wait to insist on it until we get past the ceremony.
"Please," she begs again.
I tug her as close to me as possible and slide my hand through her hair. I lean closer, and I study her for a moment.
"Ya make me nervous when ya look at me like that," she admits.
I wait a few more moments, then assert, "In a few days, ya will be mine. Don't forget it, sunshine." I kiss her.
She resists for a moment and then her tongue aggressively matches mine, circling with an intensity I've not felt from her before.
I pull back.
She's slightly out of breath.
I add, "I'm tired of waiting. You better not play any games with me on our wedding night. Understand?"
She takes a deep breath. "I won't. But my da needs to be at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding."
I groan. "I don't understand what it is with you and that man. You should have no loyalty toward him."
"He's my da," she repeats, as if it's a good enough reason.
