Spoken For by Emma Briar Read Free Book Online

stick, and there’s not a chance it will if Roman does actually bite my butt, but it’ll keep me for now. I have a job to do and a couple of days to enjoy this magical retreat.
    I bounce out of my room to bang on Liam’s door and yell, “Are you awake?”
    “I am now,” he grunts, my cue to barge inside.
    He shoves himself up against the headboard, mussing his hair further as he runs a hand through it.
    “We’re touring the distillery this morning,” I remind him. “Connor indicated he’d like to start bright and early.”
    “Your friend Connor was the one who insisted on that second game,” he grouses. “Damn, that brew he makes is potent.”
    When I’d left them to come upstairs last night, the two men had been hunched over the chessboard with a half empty bottle of Kleighnorm whiskey for company.
    “Do you need me to kick you out of bed?” I ask sweetly.
    Liam flips me the finger. “You always make the sweetest offers, but I can manage, thanks.”
    “Kee, wait,” he adds as I turn to go. “Stay a minute.”
    He pats the spot beside him.
    “What is it?” I come fully inside and sit, squaring my knee on the bed between us.
    “You and Roman.” His brow creases as he looks into my eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on and you don’t have to tell me, but just be careful, okay?”
    I don’t dismiss his concern out of hand. Liam needs to be genuinely worried if he’s saying something. “There isn’t much to tell, Liam.”
    “Not yet, maybe, but…”
    “But…?” Suddenly my mind’s working overtime. “Did Connor say something?”
    “No, it’s just…” His brow creases deeper into me. “I don’t like the man, okay?”
    “Okay,” I drag out through my teeth.
    Liam likes everyone.
    And it’s not as if he knows anything about my private encounters with the frustrating man.
    “What exactly don’t you like about Roman?”
    “Fuck, Kee, how should I know?” He scrubs his bristled jaw. “There’s something off about him.”
    “Not off,” I say defensively. As if Roman needs me, anyone, defending him. “Just complex.”
    “Potato, potatah .” He rolls his eyes. “Call it whatever, it doesn’t mean you won’t end up getting hurt.” He reaches for me, his hand folding over mine. “I’m scared he’ll hurt you, Kee, and that you’ll let him because you think you deserve it.”
    The breath pinches in my lungs.
    This is about Lucy and Kyle and the accident. About the guilt that consumed me for years, and still occasionally lurks in the shadows. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but I am the reason they’re dead.
    “That’s not what I do,” I say softly, giving his hand a squeeze.
    Yes, there were times when I wished I’d died instead of them. Died with them. But I don’t expect I’ll burn in hell and I certainly don’t intend to walk through hell on earth.
    “I’m not punishing myself.”
    Liam doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”
    I do.
    My screw-ups aren’t about the guilt or believing I don’t deserve love. It’s much simpler than that.
    My heart is spoken for.
    My body is for living, but my heart will always belong to Kyle. It’s the only thing keeping him here, with me. If I release that love, then he’ll be gone, truly gone from my world.
    That’s not something I’m able to accept.
    I slide from the bed to my feet, smiling down on Liam. “Have I ever lied to myself?”
    His brow finally clears.
    That’s how well he knows me.

10
     
     
    CONNOR’S TOUR TAKES up most of the morning. The distillery has been in his family for over four hundred years, but his passion runs deeper than mere tradition. That is clear in the way he brushes his hand over the pair of swan-necked stills as he explains why they’re made from copper.
    The aging is done in the smaller barn and when he flicks the lights on, I’m again struck by the limited scale of production and the exclusivity of the product we’ll be branding. Each charred oak cask is nestled in its