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"That'll be problematic given that's the only way back to the mainland," Lorcan says, pouring everyone a cup of my tea with a grin as though the tension isn't palpable.
“Ah fuck,” Beast groans.
"Have a seat," Arden offers, placing his hand on my thigh and giving it a slight squeeze. Tom notices but doesn't show any reaction as he sits beside Beast, and Connall settles down onto the sofa on the other side of him.
I push the teacups towards my uncles then Beast. "It'll warm you upandsettle your stomach," I add, smiling at Beast.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, taking a tentative sip, eying me over the rim of the cup. I see the exact moment when the taste hits him. "Damn, that's good. Has it got honey in it?" Beast asks, smacking his lips together.
I nod. "It does, amongst other things."
“This ain’t gonna make me shit, is it?” he asks, drawing the cup away from his lips. “I’ve seen what you can do. Impressive, by the way.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. His lightheartedness is a breath of fresh air. “I’m not in the business of poisoning friends.”
“Thank fuck for that. You’re looking well. It’s good to see you smiling after the hell you went through,” he adds, looking pointedly at Tom. “Got to count for something, right Tom?”
Tom doesn’t respond, he keeps his assessing gaze fixed on the four of us instead. My gaze flits back and forth between Beast and Tom. Beast is trying to lighten the mood, but Tom's not having it. I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny when Connall reaches for his tea cup, lifting it to his lips, his eyes widening a little as he takes a sip.
"This tastes like..."
"The tea my mother used to make?" I suggest.
He nods. "Tom, you've got to taste it. It's exactly how I remember it. Aoife always used to brew us this tea. Especially after we got into fights."
Tom meets my gaze, picking up his own cup and taking a sip too. "So it does," he says, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he looks at me. “You make healing remedies like Aoife did?”
“Yes. She taught me about the benefits of herbs and plants from an early age, and then my grandmother continued after she died because she knew how important it was to my mother that I learn her craft.”
"And your father allowed that?"
"He didn't know."
“I see,” his voice trails off as he places his cup back on the saucer. "You’ll have to forgive me. I'm not normally this–" He swipes a hand through his salt and pepper hair, trying to find the words.
"This much of an awkward bastard?" Beast finishes with a snort.
Tom raises his brow. "I was going to say this impolite. It really is a pleasure to meet you, Cynthia."
There's a warmth in his eyes as he regards me. A kindness beneath the controlled authority that can't be faked. I look down at my hands in my lap, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through me: from relief that Tom is loosening up, to uncertainty of what he might do next.
"Cynthia, I'm a reasonable man, but I am very protective of the people I care about. The only reason I didn't come here earlier demanding to see you is because Beast, for all his faults–of which there are many–persuaded me not to."
Beast rolls his eyes. "Thanks, mate.I think.”
"I appreciate you giving us space, and for not shooting the men I love before we’ve even had a chance to talk," I reply, garnering a smirk from Beast.
"Don't count on anything yet, there's still time," he says with a reassuring wink so that I know he's joking.
Carrick snorts. "Not happening."
"By all rights, Ishould'veshot you dead the second I found out you'd known Cynthia as a child and failed to tell me," Tom says, levelling his gaze at Carrick.
“That was our history. It had nothing to do with you,” he replies evenly.
“But I’m willing to let that go,” Tom continues, giving him a warning glare, “Given what you did to save her from those bastard Skulls.”
“What Carrick meant to say,” Lorcan cuts in, “Is that we apologise.”
