“Never leave me, Eava,” Tadhg hugged our kitchen witch. “You know I cannot live without you. Marry me.”
“Get off it, ye wastrel. I’d no sooner marry ye than the man in the moon.”
Even though she’d agreed to marry Tadhg last week.
I stood and took her weathered hand, grazing a kiss across her knuckles. “Marry me, Eava. I’d never love another.”
“I’ve always had a weakness fer the wicked ones. But seeing as I’ve changed both yer nappies, there’s only so much shite a woman can take. Isn’t that right, Aveen?”
She’d agreed to marry me the week before, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, I fainted on the floor to let her see the extent of my devastation.
“Let’s hear yer proposal, ya animal,” Eava said to the mutt showing off his grin.
Ruairi stood to his massive height, lifted the witch clean off her feet, and gave her a sloppy kiss. “Ye will get neither jewels nor power from me, but I can promise plenty of sleepless nights.”
Eava loved that shite, throwing her head back and laughing. “There’s a good lad. If yer ever lookin’ to settle down, ye know where to find me.”
“Right so.” He carried her laughing right out the door.
I didn’t like her giving him attention. Ruairi had had a mother, a family, and so had Tadhg. Mine didn’t count.
Tadhg explained our game with a laugh, leaving Aveen beaming from her chair. “She must be a saint if she deals with the lot of you day in and day out.”
Eava was a saint. I didn’t know how we’d function without her. She was more than a cook—she was the mother we’d never had, the mother we’d lost. I’d asked her once why she’d never married and had children of her own. She’d said her hands were full enough with three boys who’d never grow up.
Ruairi strolled back into the room, a basket hooked over his arm. “God love that witch. She’ll have me fat as a fool.”
My brother smacked his lips together, ever the fiend for dessert. “What’d she give you this time?”
Beneath the cloth waited a pile of pear tartlets. Aveen chose first, selecting the smallest one.
“Saturdays are my favorite days,” Ruairi said with his mouth full like an animal.
As I watched my human chew her tart, I had to agree. This particular Saturday may have been the best Saturday of my life.
Tadhg ended up stuffing his face with four tarts, and Ruairi had five. Aveen and I stuck to one each.
“Are there any other traditions I should know about?” she asked, wiping her hands on her serviette.
“After dinner, we retire to the parlor to take bets.”
“What do you bet on?” she asked.
“Anything and everything. Death. Life. Rain. Snails.” Sex. Murder. Drink. Her hand slipped into mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It felt right having her there, even though I should have been pushing her away.
“Snails?” she laughed, pausing momentarily to take in the Queen’s tapestry.
“We’ve raced them,” I explained. “And frogs. And squirrels. And one time, worms, but we all ended up passing out before we saw who won.”
“I won,” Ruairi claimed, “but these two eejits were too mean to pay up.”
“Ruairi never wins.” It was probably one of the only things about the pooka that I actually liked. He lostallthe time. And he was such an entertaining sore loser.
When we reached the family room, Ruairi grabbed more wine from the cart. Tadhg would be blind-drunk soon enough, and Ruairi would end up trying to take care of him, leaving Aveen and I all by our lonesome.Tragic.
I shifted five glasses as Ruairi offered an invitation to Aveen as if it were his place to invite my human to the afters.
She pressed a hand to her chest, sucking in a breath. “You want me to join you?”