Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
The Viking grins as he shakes his head. “You Highlanders and your ‘politics,’” he chuckles. “It’s simpler up in the North, you know. You like a woman, you tell her, she agrees, you make her your woman.”
“And how exactly does kidnapping her figure into that tradition?” Callum says with a smile, arching a brow in reference to the, well, unorthodox way Tor and Rhona first got together.”
The Norsemen grins as he slugs back his glass of whiskey. “Well, I’d say,” he grins. “Considering she’s my wife.”
The rest of us chuckle, shaking our heads.
“Well, here, we have politics,” I mutter.
“Aye, it’s what separates us from the savages like your lot,” Callum chuckles, nudging Tor. The big man laughs, giving Hamish a Viking cursing gesture with his thumb and his teeth in good fun.
“Well, politics it may be,” Hamish growls, turning to eye me. “But she’s a pretty little political reason, isn’t she?”
I turn my eye on him, my jaw tightening dangerously. He either misses it, or knowing him, sees it but continues anyways.
“That’s convenient, now isn’t it?”
“Careful,” I growl in warning.
Hamish doesn’t flinch though, his eyes meeting mine.
“A weaker man might give in to temptation, Lachlan,” he says quietly, eyeing me.
I turn away, pouring another splash of whiskey into my glass.
“It won’t be a problem.”
“And if it is?”
I look at Callum, seeing the same questioning look on his face. Tor looks amused, like he’s not remotely believing my “political reasons” speech.
“It won’t be.”
“You understand that no one—least of all us—would begrudge you, after, well, you know.”
“After Darcy,” I growl.
Callum nods. “Aye.”
“Well, it’s not part of this.”
The three of them glance at each other, clearing their throats before they look back.
“Yes?” I mutter.
“If it were,” Hamish says lowly, folding his arms across his chest.
“It—”
“But if it were…” He arches a brow at me. “Lachlan, she’s a pretty girl, and a good one at that. She’s strong, and wise, and sharp. You could do far worse having to marry for ‘political reasons.’ If it were a thing, I don’t see who would begrudge you marrying her for more than that.”
“Oh?” I growl sharply. “Not the fact that I was married to her mother? No one would have a thing to say about that, aye?”
Tor shrugs. “I’ve heard of similar situations, up North.”
Callum clears his throat. “You did have it annulled. Darcy and you.”
Hamish frowns. “Lachlan, I’ve never asked, and you can tell me to fuck right off, but—”
“It’s a true annulment,” I mutter quietly. True, as in, not a bought one. That’s been known to happen here and there when a Lord and his wife part for whatever reasons. Annulment is the only way, of course, and annulment can only truly happen if the marriage has never been consummated. Plenty of people have found ways of… convincing certain unscrupulous or coin-hungry members of the clergy. Obviously, that wasn’t the case with me.
Hamish whistles lowly. Tor swears loudly. Callum stares at me in surprise.
“Truly?”
I nod. “Truly.”
My son-in-law swears. “Gods, Lachlan, you were married for ten fucking years.”
“I’m aware,” I growl.
“How…” Tor scowls, shaking his head and looking at me like I’ve just told him I have the plague. “But how?”
“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
“It’s insane is what it is,” he growls back.
“And not a single dalliance?” Hamish says quietly. “Not a single mistress?”
I scowl. “You do know me, right?” I growl. “Would you ever have a mistress?”
Hamish frowns deeply. “Not a chance. I’ve got Una.”
“Tor?”
The Norseman shakes his head, his gaze even. “Not ever. I’ll never want a woman besides Rhona. Ever.”
I turn to Callum, but before I can even open my mouth, he’s beating me to it.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he hisses fiercely.
I smile. Good man. And good answer, especially since his wife is my daughter. But I know he’s not just saying it for my benefit, as they know I’m not just talking out of my arse either.
“Ten years though,” Hamish whistles. “Well now I’m sure of it.”
I raise a brow at him, and he grins.
“You certainly deserve marrying Iona now.”
The three of them chuckle, but I just shake my head. “I’ve told you, it’s purely—”
“Political, yes, you’ve mentioned that,” he laughs. “But ten bloody years, Lachlan? It’d take a fucking saint to not be tempted by a girl like Iona in the position you’re in.”
“Fuck that. A saint would have caved by now,” Tor snorts.
“I’ll be fine,” I mutter, taking another sip of whiskey.
Callum chuckles, clapping my shoulder.
“We’re just ribbing you, Lach,” he grins. “And all jokes aside, I’m happy for you. We all are.”
The other two nod, jokes pushed to the side as they clink their glasses to mine.
“You’re a good man, Lachlan,” Tor growls.
“Cheers,” Hamish says, raising his glass. “Be you saint or just a man more stubborn than one, congratulations. And you of all men? If you say it won’t be a problem, I believe you.”