“My brother bet me that I couldn’t convince anyone to share my bed if I didn’t look like a prince. And I’ve been proving him wrong for, how long now?” He looked to me for an answer. “It must be at least a century.”
“You’re cursed to look like a woman’s fantasy,” I clipped. “Of course you won.” Who could compete with that?
Tadhg’s gaze swung back to Aveen. “Do I look like the man who visits your dreams, Aveen?”
I held my breath, knowing better than to hope he didn’t. I could only see my infuriating brother, with his dark hair with a slight curl at the top, but women had described his features to me before, each one offering different variations. Who did he look like to Aveen? I was afraid to ask in case it was the exact opposite of me.
“I find you repulsive,” she said.
I knew she was lying. Still, it made my heart swell a little that she seemed to be resisting him—for the time being, anyway.
Tadhg knew it too. “You’re a terrible liar. Perhaps my brother can give you some lessons.”
I kicked over the bastard’s chair. What’d he do? He laughed about it like a madman.“Ah, ah, Little Rían. Wouldn’t want your dark side showing, now, would you?”
Magic hummed in my veins.I’ll show you my dark side.
Aveen cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m trying to figure out how Tadhg is supposed to help in my—inoursituation.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Tadhg asked from the floor. He tsked me as he rolled to his feet and replaced the chair in its spot by the fireplace. “Dearest Aveen. My chivalrous brother wants me to kill you.”
11
I watchedthe color drain from Aveen’s face as if she were dead already.
When we got home, I was going to make Tadgh suffer.
Aveen pressed a hand to her forehead and reached for the bedpost, presumably to steady herself. “I’m sorry, my brain is all muddled. I thought you said Rían wants you to kill me.”
“Why must you always be so feckin’ awful?” I growled, doing my damnedest not to kill him then and there and ruin Aveen’s fancy curtains with his blood. “Aveen, look at me.” I caught her shoulders, forcing her to look at me instead of the bastard sneering by the window. “If my brother kills you, you can come back.”
Her beautiful eyes widened, and she began shaking her head, making her curls tremble. “Humans cannot return from the dead. That’s impossible.”
“I assure you that it is quite possible. His lips are cursed, you see. All you need is to kiss him, die, and then come back. Your father cannot expect you to marry Robert if you’re dead, and your family can save face.”
She glanced past me to where Tadhg stood, her brow pinched and lips pursed.“You’re the Gancanagh, aren’t you?”
“At your eternal service,” he said with a bow, like an eejit. “Although I’d prefer if you call me Tadhg. Less formal. Less dreadful.”
Love talkersounded a helluva lot better than what people called me.
Aveen stood there for the longest time, staring at nothing. My brother fell onto the chaise with a bounce, toying with the curtains like a child who couldn’t sit still.
After what felt like forever, she heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
I’d gone through all of this trouble—asked my feckin’ brother for help—and she didn’t know if she could do it? What was the issue? Did she truly want to tie herself to Robert Trench? The thought made my gut twist. “It’s the only way for us to be together,” I said, gathering her hair from her face. “Is our love not worth the sacrifice?”
Tadhg snorted like this was all some sort of joke. Like he didn’t give a toss either way.
As Aveen stared up at me, her eyes softened, and the hard lines of her frown eased. I knew better than to believe any of it had to do with me, but a foolish part of me let myself believe, for just a moment, that this wasn’t an elaborate ruse.
“Love is worth the sacrifice,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re sure? You’d really die to be with me?” This was for Tadhg’s benefit and no one else’s. Still, I needed to hear her answer. To taste the lie and remind myself that no part of this was real for her.
“Yes. This is what I want.”
I tasted truth but couldn’t tell if it was the first or last part that lingered on my tongue.