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Chapter 31
Brody
Arare sunray peeks through the tiny window and across Uncle Gowan’s clean yet shabby kitchen. Hanging up the phone, I settle back in a rickety chair. There are three of them, none of which match. Alone with a morning cup of coffee, I drop my hands atop my head. Feck me. I’m astonished by the hard truth; women can play hard to get after ye feck em—a small smile plays across my lips—and I like it.
Desire burns through my veins, mingling into my DNA. Justice’s disobedience will not go unpunished. In the past, I’d not give a woman with expectations a second glance.
But I’m gonna love this.
I run a hand over my beard, recalling Leith’s mouthing off about the challenge. That bawbag neglected to tell me I’d left a hunner golden opportunities on the table with the likes of bonny lasses who’ve standards. My first encounter with Justice had her pussy marinating in its sweet juices.
“It was all the waiting around,” I tell myself. When I get back, I’m in for a treat.
“Ye look well given the circumstances,” my uncle Gowan says, holding a pile of dirty clothes in hand. He strolls across the wee kitchen to the washer that’s hooked up to the same line as the sink. “Ya having second thoughts about the lass?”
Blowing out a breath, I scrub my hands over my face. “Nae, I ain’t marrying Erika.”
“Och, that’s good because I was gonna remind ya she wasn’t looking yer direction nae way.” He opens the top of the washer and stuffs the clothes inside, muttering about this being Brennan’s job.
“My cousin still given ya a hard time?” I ask, careful not to mention why. Brennan’s seventeen, same as Cam. What they didn’t have in common is that a year ago, one was a good wean, the other a full-fledged sneaky fecker. Now, the nugget’s about as knuckleheaded as Camdyn, though lacking my bràthair’s finesse.
“I’ve it in my mind to send the laddie away.” Gowan walks to the table, signaling toward the stack of envelopes. “Check out that there folded one.”
With the mug in one hand, I sift through bills. “Ya need any help payin’ any of these?”
“I said the folded paper, Little Brody,” Gowan says, cutting me off. I’ll keep my fecking mouth shut under the circumstances. Last year, when his wife died, he’d practically attacked my da, his older bràthair, for taking it upon himself to front the medical bills.
My eyebrows pull together at the sight of a brochure. “Wit is this?”
“Ya can read?”
“I can.” I gasp. “Grand would bend over and take a jobby on yer heid, Uncle Gowan.”
With a frown smeared across his face, he grunts. “Aye, my da would of shite all over me if he were alive. I brought that pamphlet home. Thought I’d scare the stupid outta Brennan.”
“Did it work?” I look over the brochure again. It advertises a boarding school in fecking England of all places. Aye, grand has rolled over in his grave, begging God for his tartan so he can come back to earth and commit more sins. The kind he’d not be allowed back into heaven afterward.
“Nae.” Gowan leans against the cluttered counter. “Brennan said I couldn’t afford to drop his arse off there nae way.”
“Cheeky fecker. I’ll give him a skelping,” I grit out. “Smack him a good one.”
Gowan was never much of a fighter. When Da took it upon himself to help his wee bràthair, Gowan’s reaction was a warning to the entire clan. Don’t give the lad shite. He could handle his own problems. But still, Gowan’s nae fighter, not even for Brennan. The wean had taken up boxing recently.
“When this is all over, between ye, Ewan, and Erika, I’m thinking I’ll ask my old bràthair to take Bren.” He clears his throat, voice dipping low, in disappointment, sadness—who fecking knows what. “I want wit’s best for Brennan. Cam’s got that 4.3 grade, eh?”
“Aye, good grades.” I nod in agreement, though I’m not above beating the stupid out of anyone in my clan.
Gowan gestures with his hands. “And the school? ‘Tis a good school, aye?”
When I nod, he mutters about wanting what’s better for Brennan again. He yawns, saying, “So, the lass.”
“I’ll not be marrying Erika, ya know.”
“I’m referring to the one ye were minding when I walked in. Tell me of her?”
Nae. “She’s bonny.”
“Must be to have yer attention.” He moves to the stove, fussing over the knob to light the burner.
