I stand up taller and look toward her, unblinking. It doesn’t matter. None of this does. She will be my wife by law. She will learn to follow the rules.
Moving her blazing gaze from Martin to his men, she swivels her eyes on me.
It’s almost comical, how she tips her head to the side with curiosity, the anger vanishing as she stares at me.
What is she thinking? What does she see?
Does she recognize me from the room? Soon enough, she’ll know I was the man who meted out her punishment. I’d rather her know sooner than later. If she’s to be my wife, I want her to fear me. I want her to know what to expect if she misbehaves. I want her to know her place.
But my patience is gone. I’m not playing a nice guy, and I want to leave.
I snap my fingers and point to the ground in front of me. “I’ve waited long enough. Come here.”
She purses her lips and glares at me. Does the little vixen plan on defying me? In front of a room full of men, like this?
She’ll regret that decision.
But she isn’t given a choice, as her mother grabs her arm and half-drags her toward me.
“So sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. McCarthy,” she says in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Had to pretty her up, you see. Isn’t she lovely?”
“Lovely,” I repeat through clenched teeth. “Let her go.”
She releases her as if she’s on fire, fairly pushing her my way. Aileen stumbles in front of me, but I quickly grab her arms and right her, dragging her in front of me, my fingers so tight on her arms she winces.
“Look in my eyes,” she hisses. “Hold my gaze.”
I don’t take orders from her, so I look toward Father Finn. He knows the way of the Clan. He doesn’t flinch at the roughness in my tone or firmness of my grasp, but pulls out his book and begins the ceremony.
“Look at me,” she repeats. While Father recites the opening prayer, I hiss out of the side of my mouth.
“Don’t order me again.”
“It’s your voice. It is. It’s you.”
She’s caught on quicker than I expected.
“You were the one who took me in that room,” she says. “You have the nerve to—”
My grip tightens. “Be quiet, woman.”
She fumes in silent fury until it’s time to state her vows. She mutters her way through them, and I mutter my way through mine. I don’t even hear the applause that surrounds us, as blood thunders in my ears. I’m only dimly aware of people standing and cheering around us.
“Home,” I order. “Now.”
It’s time I made the acquaintance of my wife beyond what I’ve already done.
“The car’s waiting,” Keenan says.
Her mother’s greedy eyes light up with excitement, and her father gives me a grim smile. For all he knows, he just sold his daughter to the devil, and all he cares about is how much money Martin pays.
Despicable.
I gather her up, satin and lace and pearls and all, and lift her in my arms. I don’t want to fight with her. I’ve claimed this woman. I’ve done what I came here to do. Now I want to leave with her and never look back.
“Put me down,” she says, but it’s likely only a protest she feels she needs to make or can’t help, because she’s bright enough to know that isn’t happening.
My men begin to disperse, heading to their vehicles. I’m grateful now there will be no reception. No celebration. This was a business meeting. No more, no less.
I’m heading to the door when I feel someone grab my arm. I turn in surprise to see my mother. Her usually-gentle gray eyes look flinty, and her grip on my arm is firmer than necessary.
“Cormac.” She spits the words out, her tone one I haven’t heard since I was a lad. She’s pissed at me. I’m pissed that she’s pissed. For Christ’s sake.
I grunt in reply, still holding my tight-lipped, stunningly beautiful wife, who might as well be an ice queen.
“Put her down.”
“No.” The time for my mother to instruct me has long since gone.
“A word with you, son.”
“Aye, but you’ll speak to me in front of my wife, or not at all.” A part of me’s afraid if I put her down, she’ll run.
Keenan grunts behind me, reminding me to watch my tone.
“She’s a slight thing but no feather, mam,” I tell her. My wife curses in protest, kicking her legs, and tries to get down, but I don’t allow it.
“Be gentle,” my mother chides me. “Please, son. Just because she’s yours, doesn’t mean that—”
“Mam.” I shake my head at her when she opens her mouth to protest. Does she really not know me well enough to know this? “Just trust me.”
“I don’t trust him!” Aileen shouts over her shoulder, and mam opens her mouth to speak again, but I don’t stay to listen.