Entwined by Kristen Callihan Page B

After all, Evernight Hall never entertained visitors, and she’d only had to look after the men. Until now.
    Eamon grunted, ignoring his own long-cooled cup. “Likely she’s up there crying, distraught over Aidan’s defection, and hating the very idea of me.”
    Nan merely made a noise that, to Eamon’s learned ear, meant he was feeling right sorry for himself. Which he was. Not that she needed to push the point in.
    “Your father, God rest his soul, was an eejit to let his grief turn to hate.” She lifted a knobby finger and pointed at Eamon. “And you are an eejit to believe his mad ravings. You’re the best of men, Eamon. You only have to believe it.”
    “Is that so?” Eamon retorted.
    “It is.”
    “So then when he told you that your currant biscuits tasted like plaster dust and were harder than a horseshoe, you naturally ignored that tripe and continued to bake them.” They both knew she’d never again made another biscuit, much to his and Aidan’s disappointment.
    Nan’s lips thinned, and he snorted without mirth. “You see, Nanny, I know he was a mad bastard with a vicious tongue, but the heart has a tendency to ignore logic, no matter how hard we try to tell it differently. And each time I attempt to forge a new self, his words creep up and pound me back down.” But he was trying. By God, he wanted to be the man he knew he could be for Lu. He just hadn’t yet figured out how.
    The sounds of the house grew loud around the silence in the kitchen, then a kind and cheerful smile crinkled Nan’s plump cheeks. “There now, boyo. If you can stand up to me, you can certainly buck up and take the young lady her tea.”
    “What? Me?”
    “Are there any other men in here? Cowering away like some frightened puss? Go.” She waved her hand when he scowled. “Let her get to know who you are.”
    Eamon flushed, annoyed at her, Aidan, and himself most of all.
    He grabbed the tray, tempering himself when the china rattled. “Fine. I’ll go.”
    * * *
    Lu sat in her room, crowding in front of the crackling fire. She was married now. To Eamon. How strange life was. Whenever she tried to plan it, her course shifted down unforeseen avenues, tugging away from all of her intentions.
    Sighing, she curled her knees to her chest and cuddled farther down in the dainty settee that matched the rest of the room’s feminine furnishings. A soft knock at the door had her tensing. “Yes?” she called, hoping it was merely the maid coming to stoke the fire.
    “Lu?” Eamon’s deep voice was muffled through the thick door. “May I come in?”
    “Of course.” Lu sat up and put her dressing gown to rights.
    He came bearing gifts. The fragrance of hot tea and fresh buns hit her, and her stomach made a gurgle of impatience. One that Eamon unfortunately heard. A sly curl pulled at his mouth as he set the tray down on the little table before the fire. “So you won’t be saying no to tea, then?” He winked, a quick, sweet gesture that had her grinning.
    “Tease,” she retorted as she reached for the pot.
    “Only with you, Bit.” His massive frame had the delicate gilded armchair creaking, and he leaned his weight forward, bracing his arms upon his muscled thighs.
    “I see I shall have to order new chairs for my sitting room.” Lu handed him a plate of hot buns. “How do you take your tea?”
    “With milk.” Eamon frowned slightly. “Why should you do that?”
    Lu paused, the cup of tea in her hand hovering between them. “So that you may sit comfortably when you visit me.” Her skin prickled. “That is, should you like to visit me. You needn’t if you’d rather not.”
    Carefully, Eamon took the tea from her hand but his gaze stayed locked with hers. “Lu, I married you because I fancy your company.” That gentle smile of his, the one that crept up like the dawn, graced his face once more. “Keep your little chairs if they please you. I can manage.” He took a sip of tea. “Though I shall not stop you