Thankfully, Deirdre distracted her with a tray of miniature desserts. “Has that line ever worked for you?” she threw over her shoulder at Ruairi.
“Ye’d be surprised what some humans like. Just last month, I met a woman who wanted me to—”
Not a hope was I letting Ruairi tellthatstory. I cleared my throat, shooting him a withered glare. I nodded my chin to my wife. What an eejit. We were in the presence of alady.
Ruairi’s mouth snapped shut. “Let’s just say she didn’t mind my fangs one bit.”
I knew all too well the strange things some people were into behind closed doors. I had stories that’d horrify them all.
Deirdre offered me the tray. I selected a pear tart, glistening with sugar. One bite in, Deirdre started giving out about her cushions, throwing serviettes at me, asking if I was raised in a field.
Sometimes it felt like it. I’d grown up in a castle, but the fields, the seaside, the world had been my home.
I muttered, “Sorry,” between bites, doing my best not to ruin her cushions.
Deirdre nodded, then turned back to my wife. Her features softened. “What would you like to drink, milady? We have faerie wine, witch’s brew, puítin, and stout.”
I’d told Lorcan time and again that if he named the drink “witch’s brew,” no one would dare touch the stuff. He’d vehemently disagreed. I had yet to see one person order it.
“I’ll have tea, please,” Keelynn said.
Deirdre asked me what I wanted, and I ordered the same. If my wife was to be sober, then I should probably be as well. Saying goodbye tomorrow would be hard enough without a hangover. If tonight was to be my last night with Keelynn, I wanted to remember it.
“Wine for me, Lorcan,” Ruairi announced, even though no one had asked.
Deirdre made three cups of steaming hot tea. I didn’t love tea, but it kept my hands warm, and if you added enough sugar, it didn’t taste like bog water.
Keelynn told me I ate too much sugar.
She wasn’t wrong. My diet drove Rían mad. He had to exercise and watch what he ate to keep in shape. I could eat nothing but sugar and still look like this. Fae blood, cursed glamours, and all that nonsense.
“Sickening, isn’t it?” Deirdre muttered, sinking onto the free sofa. “These bastards could live on custard and cakes and not put on a feckin’ pound. And if I so much as look at sweets, my stay feels too tight.”
“I see nothing wrong with your stays, love,” Lorcan said, pouring himself and Ruairi some fae wine, then falling down next to his wife.
I’d always thought Deirdre lovely. She was with Lorcan by the time I met her, for which I was thankful. Every once in a while, I’d feel a slight tug from her, but only when she had drink on board, and it had always been easily ignored.
“That’s because you get distracted by what they’re holding in,” Deirdre teased, giving her husband a nudge. Lorcan’s cheeks pinkened.
“Someone stab me, please,” Ruairi whined. “I refuse to watch the couples in the room make moon eyes at each other all feckin’ night.”
“You’re just jealous,” Deirdre shot back, throwing a cushion at the pooka.
“You mean relieved,” Ruairi countered. “What’s love ever done but make folks miserable? Take this human here.” Ruairi nudged Keelynn’s foot with his. “She’s in love, and she looks proper miserable.”
Keelynn’s lips pursed as she studied her tea. “I’m not in love,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure I ever was.”
She still wore my ring. She could be lying. Or she could be telling the truth. I had to find something to do to keep from reaching for her. Just because she didn’t lovehimdidn’t mean she cared for me.
“So you’re not marrying your childhood sweetheart?” Deirdre asked, eyes on me. I focused on unfastening the buttons at my wrists, ignoring the heat swelling in my chest.
“I’d rather not marry a man who’s been screwing the maid.”
My heart sank. I’d screwed plenty of maids.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Deirdre gave Keelynn’s shoulder a pat. “Did you kill him? I would’ve stabbed the bastard straight in the heart. Isn’t that right, Lorcan?”
“That’s right, love.”