They were insane.
Absolute psychopaths.
How could they sit there and laugh about killing another living person? “Murder isn’t a joke.”
Tadhg hid his smile behind his hand, nodding as if in agreement.
“Would it make you feel better to know the people I kill deserve it?” Rían whispered against my ear, spreading delicious heat all the way to my curled toes.
“Mostly,” Tadhg murmured.
Rían gave him a kick beneath the table.
“Careful now, lads.” Ruairi reached for the terrible wine. Instead of pouring himself a glass, he drank straight from the bottle. “She’s getting proper cross,” he finished, wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve.
“I like her when she’s angry,” Rían said with a wink.
He was ridiculous. “What were you about to suggest before all of you went off on a murder tangent?”
Rían gave me a sheepish grin.
“It had to do with murder, didn’t it?” I groaned.
His smile widened.
Tadhg and Ruairi sniggered.
I was about to lay into them when the clock hanging in the corner struck the hour. All three men cursed.
Ruairi slammed the wine bottle onto the table. “Shite. We almost forgot.”
“Eava!” Tadhg’s shout echoed off the high ceiling. “Eava!”
Rían cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting for Eava as well. Then Ruairi joined in, all of them chanting and banging cutlery and fists against the table.
The portly witch appeared, her eyes narrowed on Tadhg as she stomped over and smacked him in the back of the head. “What’d I tell ye about roarin’ down the feckin’ castle walls like a bunch of heathens?”
Tadhg caught her by the wrist and pulled her into his embrace, nestling his head against her considerable bosom. “Never leave me, Eava. You know I cannot live without you. Marry me.”
She swatted at his arms, a delighted blush blooming over her round cheeks. “Get off it, ye wastrel. I’d no sooner marry ye than the man in the moon.”
Rían stood and took her free hand, executing a courtly bow and kissing her knuckles as if she were a queen. “Marry me, Eava. I’d never love another.”
“I’ve always had a weakness fer the wicked ones,” she cackled, cupping Rían’s jaw before shoving his head away. “But seeing as I’ve changed both yer nappies, there’s only so much shite a woman can take. Isn’t that right, Aveen?”
I stifled a laugh behind my hand, watching Rían collapse onto the floor and pretend to die a dramatic death on the stones.
“Let’s hear yer proposal, ya animal,” she threw over her shoulder at Ruairi, giving him a saucy wink.
Ruairi stood and sauntered over to the witch, hefted her into his arms, and pressed a smacking kiss to her thin lips. “Ye will get neither jewels nor power from me, but I can promise plenty of sleepless nights.”
Eava’s head fell back. Her delighted cackle reverberated off the windows. “There’s a good lad.” She patted his cheek with a withered hand. “If yer ever lookin’ to settle down, ye know where to find me.”
“Right so.” He gave a resolute nod and carried her cackling right out the door.
“On Saturdays, we propose to Eava,” Rían explained, sliding back into his chair.
“She chooses a different suitor every week. Although she picks Ruairi more often than not,” Tadhg slurred, throwing back the rest of his drink.