Irish Rogue, page 2
“You know I love you, right?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer. “But I have zero interest in making small talk with some woman I don’t know and have—no offense to her—no interest in knowing. I wish you would stop trying to pawn off every woman you meet. Unless you want them to spend the night in my bed—one night only—then you’re only wasting your time.”
She closes the distance between them and cradles his face between her palms. No small feat considering he nearly towers over her. There’s so much love on her face for him. Envy pierces my heart. I nearly gasp from the pain of it. My mother hadn’t loved me at all.
“I only want you to be happy. Behind that fun-loving, devil-may-care attitude, and carefree façade you present to everyone, I know there’s a part of you that is truly unhappy. It breaks my heart, Padraig,” she says to him, her eyes boring into his.
Wow, I hadn’t expected that. He stops breathing. If I weren’t staring so intently at their interaction, I might have missed it. Mrs. Donnelly’s gaze stays on Paddy for another beat and then she drops her hands and moves away. Several seconds pass before, at last, he takes a huge breath.
“Don’t you love well-intentioned family members?” I blurt out and nearly slap my hand over my mouth as if to pull the words back in.
Paddy’s head snaps in my direction, his eyes widening. I send an apologetic glance his way. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation.”
His gaze darts from me to the tree, and those expressive blue eyes I’m just noticing land back on me. “Were you hiding back there?
Told you, you were hiding. I shrug, trying for nonchalance, but my cheeks heat. “I don’t really like being around people.”
Paddy seems to be studying me. All of me. In an entirely uncomfortable way. The way I’ve been studied far too often by far too many men. I should have known he’d be like all the rest. My feet take a small step back as though of their own accord. I look away, second-guessing myself.
He clears his throat. “Have a good evening.”
My gaze shoots back to him. He nods in farewell and turns away.
No. “Wait,” I call out a bit too loudly and wince.
Paddy stops and glances at me over his shoulder. Nervous energy runs through my body. I wring my hands, trying to settle it, and shift my feet. Finally, he turns around to face me again. If I’m going to do this, this is the time. Please don’t vomit. I cast a final glance over the entire room before locking it back on him. “I have a proposition for you.”
Paddy’s head jerks back slightly. It’s no wonder he’s surprised. This is the longest conversation he and I have had. It’s one of the longest conversations I’ve had with anyone besides Mila, Pierce, or Caitlín in the last five years.
“I’m listening,” he says.
I shake my head. “Not here.” Not where there’s a chance someone will overhear. Plus, if he says no, he’ll be the only witness to my humiliation. It’s going to be hard enough actually making my proposal to him. “Follow me.”
I creep along the outskirts of the room, making sure to keep my pace natural. Not too fast, but not too slow, either. No one pays attention if there’s no skulking. I still glance around, keeping certain people I want to avoid—like Mila—in my line of vision just to be safe.
The back of my neck heats as though Paddy’s eyes are boring into it. Hopefully, that means he’s following me. I don’t know what I’ll do if he decides to ignore my request. I’m betting on his nosy nature to lead him.
I’ve learned a few things about Padraig Donnelly over the last five years. He thinks his sister, Caitlín, butts into everyone’s business. Little does he realize he’s nearly as bad. If he knew that about himself, he’d be really pissed.
In no time, I make it out the door without anyone bothering me, and I move behind the farthest twin winding staircase just to be safe. Moments later, Paddy exits through the doorway and glances around.
“Psssst,” I call out softly to get his attention and move into his line of sight.
He crosses the entryway.
“This way.” I take off again and head toward one of my favorite rooms in the house. When no one pays attention to you, it’s easy to sneak off. I’ve explored every nook and cranny of this beautiful, old manor. Everything about it is stunning. I’m envious that it belongs to Emilio and his family. I’d give anything to live in a place like this.
I reach the door of my intended destination and swing it open. Paddy enters right behind me, and I quickly push it nearly shut to make sure we’re not interrupted. I’m alone with him. I push back the fear. Of all the things I’ve learned about him, the fact that he’s honorable when it comes to protecting women is the one that comforts me the most. He won’t hurt me. Just keep telling yourself that.
Paddy takes in the room. I’m curious what his impression of it is. I’m sure most people would find it pretentious with all the portraits hanging up. Like the owners are trying to impress upon any visitors that they’re obnoxiously wealthy and want everyone to know it. Like there are these giant neon signs asking, “Don’t you wish you had all this?” It reminds me of all the generation paintings of the royal ancestors of the monarchy of England I learned about in school.
“What’s this proposition you have for me?” He breaks the silence.
I have to swallow to give myself an extra second before responding. This has always been the hardest part of what I’m about to do.
“You know what happened to me.” I barely pause for breath. “My sister is like your mother, although maybe not quite as direct. She’s casually introduced me to several men. All of them try to act as though they haven’t been either bribed or strongly coerced by Pierce to make polite conversation with me. Mila has never come out and said it, but I know she’s hoping that one of them sparks my interest. That, maybe one day, I’ll fall in love.”
I’m not sure Mila even realizes how obvious she is. She doesn’t have a devious bone in her body. She’s also blissfully happy and in love and thinks everyone should be as well. I pace the length of the floor. Aside from the paintings, my most favorite thing about the room is all the windows.
It allows a glimpse of the outside world. Of sunshine. And moonlight. It especially gives the best view of the most glorious garden I’ve ever seen. Flowers bring me peace. They remind me how beautiful life is and that I can’t take it for granted. Not after what I tried to do. Don’t think about that. Remember what you’re here for.
“What she doesn’t understand is, I don’t want to meet these men. I’m never going to magically fall in love,” I declare loudly.
I stop pacing and finally turn to Paddy. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and I take a deep breath before announcing, “My proposition is this: I think we should get married.”
My expectation is laughter. That’s not at all what I get.
Paddy rears back, horror crossing his face. “What the feck?” he nearly shouts.
I hold up my hands, trying not to flinch. “Hear me out, please. You don’t want to get married, right?”
He manages a nod and a croaked, “Right.”
My hand goes to my chest. “Neither do I. Which makes this the perfect solution. You can keep living your life exactly how you are. Flit from woman to woman. Two at once, if that’s your thing. I don’t care. So long as you leave me alone.”
Paddy stares at me like I’ve gone utterly mad. He just has to see that it’s a brilliant plan. His mother will stop trying to finagle him into talking to women sitting alone at tables. Mila will stop dragging poor men over to talk to me. It’s a win-win.
“You have my word that I won’t interfere in your personal business,” I press on. “A marriage between us would offer both of us protection from our families and their never-ending attempts at matchmaking.”
I wish I knew what is going through Paddy’s head. His expression has finally gone from horrified to…not. But I can’t read him. Is he considering it? Please be considering it.
“What about you?” he finally asks.
My forehead wrinkles. “What about me?”
“You said I can go from woman to woman, but does the same go for you?”
Did he not understand what I said? “I told you, I’m not interested in any man. That’s why this is perfect.”
Paddy cocks his head. “Are you interested in women?”
“What?”
“You said you’re not interested in a man. I just wondered if you were in to women, instead. Cause, I might actually be down for that.” A flirtatious grin lights up his face, and he waggles his eyebrows.
I throw my arms up in frustrated anger and pivot away from him. This was a mistake. Tears prick my eyes.
“Stop, I’m only kidding.” Paddy chuckles.
I whirl on him with hands fisted at my hips. My tears become angry ones, and my chest heaves with them. “Well, I don’t find it—or you—particularly funny. I expected you to not take me seriously, you know? It’s pretty on-brand. I’m not sure why I even wasted my time on someone like you. Enjoy your mother’s continued attempts at matchmaking.”
Humiliation burns inside my belly, and I turn to the door. I can’t get away from him fast enough.
“I’m sorry,” Paddy says quietly from behind me.
I pause, hating myself for it, but don’t face him. I can’t.
“Anya,” he says with a soft and coaxing tone.
Against my better judgment, I swivel around and cross my arms defensively. Protectively. His expression is full of remorse. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. That wasn’t my intention.”
My eyes still burn. I sniffle.
“You just caught me off guard,” Paddy continues, far more serious this time. “I can’t make this kind of decision without thinking about it.”
I nod. It isn’t like I asked him to say yes right this second.
“Can I take some time? This isn’t some small thing you’re proposing here. You understand everyone will see right through it. And there’s a chance Pierce will kill me before we ever make it down the aisle.”
That brings a tiny smile to my face before it washes away. Pierce is going to be the biggest obstacle to this whole thing. Ever since the night he rescued me, he’s appointed himself my protector. I’m always amazed at how different he is with Mila, Milana, and me than he is with the rest of the world. Even compared to how he is with Brenna and Francesca.
“You won’t have to worry about Pierce. I’ll take care of him,” I say with far more confidence than I feel.
Clearly Paddy doubts my skills, as well, if his expression is any indicator.
“How soon do you need a decision?” he asks.
Now. Except, that’s not realistic. I have to give him something, though. “In a week.”
He’s silent for a moment before nodding. “I’ll let you know then.”
Paddy strides past me, opens the door, and walks out, closing it behind him. Tense muscles relax, and my body sags with the release. I palm my racing heart. I did it. I actually did it.
Oh, god, you did it.
Chapter 3
Paddy
* * *
For four days, I’ve done nothing but think about Anya’s proposal. I still haven’t come up with an answer.
“What’s going on with you?” Jack slides onto the seat across the dining room table from me. “Nathan said you’ve been in here, cleaning your guns, every day since we got back from Matteo and Rowan’s christening. I know you’re obsessive about the task, but that seems a bit extreme, even for you.”
I’ve been cleaning my weapons for four days because it’s the one thing that calms my brain and lets me think. The thing I’ve been doing non-stop since Anya blurted out that fecking proposition of hers. I’ve debated talking to Jack about the situation, but my gut says she wouldn’t want him—or anyone else—to know. “I’m just thinking about the raid we have planned.”
I don’t need to glance up from my task to know he’s studying me. I keep my movements controlled and methodical, like always.
“Everything is going to go smoothly,” Jack finally says. “I’m not sure what’s got you all worked up.”
I raise a single shoulder. “I just don’t want to lose any more men this time. Eoin and Brandon were bad enough during the last one.”
Eoin’s death hit Nathan the hardest. The two had been friends. We hate losing any of our syndicate family, but even more so when it’s someone close.
“Have you bought Rory that ring yet?” I ask to change the subject, even at the expense of a delicate topic like whether Jack’s woman will accept his wedding non-proposal. Which, of course, only reminds me of Anya.
“Yesterday,” he says. “I plan on giving it to her at our final walk-through of the house this weekend.”
“You think she’ll put it on?” It’s a dick move even asking.
Jack shrugs. “Who knows? I don’t want to pressure her one way or the other. It doesn’t change my feelings. I love her whether we get married or not. No ring or piece of paper is going to make a difference to me.”
I’m really happy for my brother. Whatever had him restless and unsatisfied with life is gone. Jack’s a lot more open and relaxed since he and Rory got together. My mother’s words from the christening come back to me. She has no idea what she’s talking about. I’m not unhappy.
How could I be?
I have the perfect life. I’m young. Attractive. Rich. I can get any woman I want. What the feck is there to be unhappy about? “Well, I hope she puts it on, even if you don’t. I think it’ll be good for her. Especially after what that fat bastard put her through.”
“Maybe, but I’ll let her decide. When the time is right, I’m hoping she chooses to wear it.” Jack is silent for another moment. “Are you sure it’s really just the raid that’s bothering you?”
From a routine based on habit, I keep cleaning the barrel and raise just my eyes to meet his. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I hold his gaze, almost daring him to question me again. My expression remains blank. Or, at least, I hope it does.
“If you say so.” Jack stands. I finally lift my head while maintaining eye contact. He stares down at me. “I know we’ve never been the type of brothers who tell each other everything—or anything for that matter—but if you ever need to talk, I’m always available.”
I nod shallowly and return to my task, effectively shutting him out. He remains a moment longer until, finally, he steps around the table and out the door, sliding it closed behind him. I blow out a breath and set my weapon on the table.
Do I want to spend the rest of my life with one woman? Even one that says she has no interest in what I do with it. I don’t know how Anya plans on convincing Pierce about what we’re doing, but my guess would be that living together is going to be some type of requirement. Or, at least, I assume we would.
I don’t bring a lot of women back to the brownstone I share with Jack and Nathan. Mostly because I’m the one who leaves their bed first. They tend to linger when they’re here. But I’ve never felt uncomfortable with my brothers knowing there’s a woman in my bed. It might be a marriage of convenience, but I wouldn’t disrespect Anya by bringing a woman into a house we shared.
While it shouldn’t, it’s a fact that chafes. I’ve always done what I want, when I want. Sometimes it’s not convenient to go to the woman’s place. And renting a hotel room for a night seems seedy. Will I start to resent Anya for unintentionally putting restrictions on me? It’s the whole reason against getting married in the first place. Well, aside from not wanting to tie myself down to a single woman. Why choose one meal to eat for the rest of my life when I can have a whole smorgasbord to pick from? Feck.
I pick the damn weapon up again and go back to cleaning, even though I’ve already gone over the thing three times. Twenty minutes later, I have the gun reassembled and lined up next to the other five I’ve worked on today. I reach under the table and grab the lockboxes that house them and return each one to its spot. Then I gather up all my cleaning supplies and store them in their proper box as well.
By the time I’ve finished putting all the cases back in our secured weapons room, my stomach is rumbling. I glance out the window. I’ve lost almost the entire day sitting here, it seems. The house is empty as I walk through our man cave and into the living room. I grab my keys from the wall hook and head to the family pub to grab food.
Raucous noise and the wheat and yeast scented air hits me the second I open the front door of Donnelly’s. Just beneath the beer smell, there’s a hint of shepherd’s pie. My stomach growls again. I’ve eaten more than my weight in it over the years. Our chef, Oscar, is a damn magician in the kitchen.
“Paddy, my dear, it’s so good to see you,” the bartender calls out from behind the bar.
I stride over to it, take a seat in the high-back stool, and send her my most seductive smile. “Sadie, my love, when are you going to say to hell with this place and run off with me to the hills of Éire?”
She waves me off with a shake of her silver-haired head and a chuckle. “That smooth tongue of yours is no use on an old gal like me. Save it for one of those young colleens you and your brother are always chasing.”
My hand goes to my chest, and I give her my most pitiful expression. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”
“Oh, stop it,” she says with an abashed smile. “Before you hurt yourself trying to turn me head, what can I get you?”
“I’ll take a pint of Guinness and shepherd’s pie, please.”
Sadie points in my direction. “Coming right up.”
My fingers tap an impatient beat along the wooden surface of the bar while I wait. I cast a wandering glance around the place. Donnelly’s has been in our family for generations. Ever since my great grand-da emigrated from Ireland. It’s filled with a mix of tourists and familiar faces belonging to our organization. I often bitch about having to help out around here, but it does feel a bit like home.
