Page 28 of His For The Keeping

“I am not marrying you.”

“You are. In about an hour.”

“Father Thomas won’t… not if I don’t agree…”

“He will, and you know it.”

She did. Father Thomas was the O’Brien family priest and did anything they asked, without question. He had married more than one reluctant bride and groom. His orders came from the head of the O’Brien family, and no one questioned him.

“You can’t be serious. After everything, you can’t want me.”

“No one asked me what I wanted.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. Yes, I do, and so do you, little girl.”

She looked at her soon-to-be husband—really looked at him. He stood over her, his legs equally spaced apart, the stance of a warrior used to getting his way. His hard-earned chest muscles stretched the limits of the t-shirt Brad had lent him, hugging his perfectly formed abs, the abs she had damn near drooled over the night before. He was trouble. He was big trouble, and in less than an hour, unless she found a way out of it, she would be shackled to him.

Just call me Mrs. Trouble. She bit back a bitter laugh.

CHAPTER 7

Shane

Brad’s girlfriend, Makenzie, or Mak as the feisty redhead was called, stopped by just in the nick of time. Going in for a tight hug, Shane lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

“Been a long time, Mak.”

“Too long, punk.” She punched him on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt you to stop in from time to time. I’m sure your mom agrees.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“I assume Brad filled you in?”

“He did.” A frown crossed her freckled face. “I am so sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll get the bastards.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You will. If anyone will, it’s you. Now, introduce me to this beautiful woman.” She turned to where Frankie sat on the couch, her mouth agape.

“Frankie, this is Brad’s girlfriend, Makenzie.”

“My friends call me Mak.” She thrust out her hand to Frankie.

Shane held his breath until Frankie took it.

“Frankie is my nickname. My real name is Francesca, but no one of importance calls me that.”

Shane didn’t miss the look she shot him.

“Well, Ms. Frankie, I bought you a bunch of clothing and a backpack. I hope they fit you. New undies, a couple of bras, and some comfy shirts that will fit you way better than Brad’s PT gear.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

“Which is more than she’s done to me,” Shane tossed in. Both women just glared at him.

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