“I’ll wind up pregnant again from all that fucking.”

“Christ, it’s hot when ye curse.”

“Focus. We were talking about our children. How many will we have?”

“As many as I can plant in yer belly.”

“Two.”

“Six.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Okay, four.”

We lie there, smiling at each other for a long time, the future full of possibility and promise. I knew that things wouldn’t be easy, life rarely was, but I couldn’t imagine it being less than perfect if I was with Patrick.

He could make me giddy then livid within the space of a few moments, and I couldn’t have loved him more. We fit somehow, the two of us. His overwhelming need to look after the women in his life matched my need for security, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle.

“Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow?” I asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“If I don’t go tomorrow, I won’t go at all. De lure of ye will be too strong to resist,” he answered, turning to his side so he could brush his fingers through my hair. “I know it’s been hard to wait…”

“Now we don’t have to.”

“Aye, we do. We’ve still a mont’ until de weddin’, we’ll not be anticipatin’ de vows.” He lifted an eyebrow at my snort. “Be patient, me love. Less den a mont’, and I’ll be wakin’ up to all dis beautiful hair wrapped around me.”

I giggled like an idiot at the picture he painted, and he smiled at me indulgently as he waited for me to finish. No one had ever looked at me the way Patrick did—like everything I said and did was the most important thing in the universe and he didn’t want to miss a moment.

“What would you do if I came down the aisle with my hair cut to my chin?” I teased.

“I’d marry ye, kiss ye hard and den spank yer arse before we even made it to de reception.”

“You would not!”

“Aye, I would.”

“You’re full of it. You’d never hit me.”

“I’ll ask ye a question den. Do ye t’ink me mum would ever hit ye?”

“No. No way.”

“But she flicks ye every time ye take de Lord’s name in vain, does she not?”

“That’s completely different!”

“So is a spankin’ from yer husband.”

“Bullshit!” I sat up in irritation. “I’m not a kid you can just spank when I do something wrong!”

“Dat could be argued…” he grumbled as he sat up next to me.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Ye’d radder ye felt guilty for days because ye knew ye’d made me angry?”

“Of course not. But what about you? Do I get to spank you when you do something wrong?” The words sounded ridiculous as they came out of my mouth, which irritated me even further because it hadn’t sounded ridiculous when he’d threatened the same thing. Overbearing and controlling, yes, but not ridiculous.

“Darlin’, I have no doubt dat ye’ll belt me upside de head more den a few times in de course of our marriage,” he said with a smile. “And I’ll let ye, because guilt’ll be eatin’ me alive.”

“Do you plan on fucking up a lot?”

“I’ll try me best, but I’m a man, yeah? I’m sure I’ll do somet’in’.”

He was wearing the charming grin that I had such a hard time resisting, and after a moment I was grinning right back. He was so…ugh, I didn’t even have words for the way he made me feel.

He filled me to bursting with every emotion, and it was a novelty that I couldn’t get enough of. I’d been floating along for what felt like my entire life—never belonging anywhere or to anyone, and within just months, Peg and Patrick had completely changed everything.

“Ye look tired, love,” he said gently, pulling me out of my musings. “I’ll go to de couch so ye can get some rest.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss on my lips, but the moment his lips touched mine, the urgency that had been missing while we discussed our future came back in a flood of sensation.

“Don’t go yet,” I whispered against his lips, “You’re leaving in the morning. Don’t go yet.”

“Amy,” he said in warning, groaning as I stood from the bed and immediately climbed onto his lap. “Dis is not a good idea.”

“We’re getting married,” I reminded him, kissing across his jaw. “And you’re leaving me tomorrow. Tonight we should celebrate.”

“Do ye have any idea how hard it is not to push dose shorts to de side and sink into ye? Yer playin’ wit’ fire, engagement or not.”

“You only said we couldn’t have sex…”

“Yes,” he hissed out the word as I made my way to the lobe of his ear. “What exactly do ye t’ink yer gonna get tonight?”

The question stumped me. What was I looking for? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I wanted more. Even if he couldn’t give me everything, I wanted something.

And frankly, I was getting tired of always being the aggressor.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, leaning back so I could meet his eyes. “You’re the experienced one.”

“Oh, so it’s me decision den?”