Illicit Captor by Maggie Cole

21

Scarlet

"This is a gorgeous room," I state, glancing around. The dim lights create a romantic flair. An eggplant-colored tablecloth matches the curtains that cover the wall where the entrance is. A low fire dances in a fireplace set in the side wall, and cream candles flicker in the center of the table.

"Glad ya approve," Aidan declares as he picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

My butterflies kick off again.

So this is what it's like to be on a date with Aidan.

The door opens, and a short, bald guy enters the room. His red cheeks make him appear winded, as if he's been running all over the restaurant. He booms, "Welcome to Club Fifty-Eight. As ya may or may not know, this is Chef Kilpatrick's fifty-eighth restaurant and the dearest to him, as he's from Belfast."

"Didn't know that, mate," Aidan admits. He rolls his head toward me. "Did ya know that?"

I hold back my giggle. "Nope."

Patrick grins, adding, "Most don't. And you're in luck tonight."

"How's that?" Aidan asks.

Patrick answers, "We have one of the best-tasting menus our chef has ever created. And some great wine to go with it."

"That's a big statement. It better be amazing, Patrick," Aidan warns.

"Aye. It will be. Would ya like to hear the wines we recommend for this evening?"

Aidan slides his arm around my shoulders, glances at me, and arches his eyebrows.

I nod. "Yes, please."

Patrick announces, "We have a 2015 Masseto Toscana IGT red wine. It's a bold and structured Merlot with a 98/100 rating."

"Ohh. Sounds like a winner," I chirp.

"Ya had that two weeks ago and didn't care for it," Aidan reminds me with amusement in his expression.

"I did?"

"Aye. When Alaina tried to cook that Irish stew for dinner."

"The one she burnt?"

"Yep."

I wrinkle my nose. "Okay, we're passing on that one. But it sounds impressive."

Aidan chuckles. "What else do ya have, Patrick?"

He replies, "We also have a 2019 Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia Bolgheri red wine. It is another bold and structured wine but a Cabernet Franc - Cabernet Sauvignon blend. It boasts a 97/100 rating."

"Anything else?" Aidan asks.

Patrick's eyes light up. "Aye, and it happens to be my favorite. It's a 2016 Vieux Chateau Certan red wine. It's savory and a classic Bordeaux blend red, also with a 97/100 rating. Of course, I would rate it higher."

I softly laugh. "Well, I guess I have to try that one, then."

"Good choice. If ya don't like it, I'll replace it for ya, but I'm sure you'll love it. And for ya, sir?"

"I'll have the same," Aidan states.

"Very well, sir. Are there any allergies I should be aware of?"

"No," I answer.

"Not me. Ya can put anything in me. I'm a human garbage disposal," Aidan states.

I laugh and agree, "He is."

Patrick chuckles. "Wonderful. Are ya ready to hear what's on the tasting menu?" Patrick questions.

Aidan says, "Aye."

Patrick declares, "Our bread is paired with cuinneog butter. We'll start with potato brandade, trout roe, and chive, followed by chicken liver parfait, hazelnut, and Seville orange."

My stomach rumbles.

"Did ya eat today?" Aidan asks, his forehead wrinkling.

"Of course. That sounds great, Patrick. Please continue."

"The crab and prawn bisque sprinkled with almonds is to die for!" he boasts.

"I love bisque. Bring it on!" I exclaim.

Patrick continues, "Our Wicklow venison is dressed with chicory and artichoke. Then I'll bring out the monkfish cooked with peppercorn and more artichokes."

"Chef loves artichokes, huh?" Aidan asks.

"Ya can say that," Patrick agrees, then adds, "Next is salt-aged beef, pied du mouton, and foie gras."

"Now we're talking. Can't go wrong with beef," Aidan claims.

"No, sir. The rhubarb, blood orange, and ginger dish that follows will clean your palate to prepare ya for the salted caramel, chocolate, and malt dessert," Patrick informs us.

"That's a lot of food!" I blurt out.

Aidan pats his stomach, declaring, "We'll get it all down."

I laugh. "I shouldn't be surprised ya picked a huge menu."

"Don't worry, lass. The servings are smaller, but it will leave ya satisfied. Promise," Patrick vows.

Aidan's eyes dart over my body, and he murmurs, "Tell him I always satisfy ya."

I giggle and elbow him in the chest as my cheeks heat.

"Ouch. Don't kill me before dinner."

Patrick clears his throat, and his cheeks turn redder. "Would ya like time to review the menu, or would ya like the tasting?"

I reply, "We'll do the tasting. Thank ya, Patrick."

"Very well. I'll return with the wine." He scurries out of the room.

Aidan slides his hand between my crossed thighs.

Zings race to my core. I squeeze my legs tighter and state, "You're going to give Patrick a heart attack."

"Nah. I'm sure he's seen a lot in this room," Aidan replies.

I glance around, admitting, "It is very private."

"Are ya into reverse voyeurism?"

I arch my eyebrows. "Reverse?"

"Aye."

"Doesn't that fetish involve sexual acts?"

"Aye. Voyeurism is the act of watching others when they are naked or during sexual activity."

"Are people having sex or eating naked out there?"

He grins. "Nope. But I can't guarantee what will or won't happen in here tonight."

I laugh. "Then I wouldn't be the one into voyeurism, would I?"

"That's why I called it reverse voyeurism. Maybe ya want to be watched?"

Anxiety creeps into my chest. I shake my head. "No. Are ya into that?"

"Nope. But if ya were, then I'd make it happen," he claims.

The door opens, and Patrick appears with the bread and a bottle of wine. He sets the basket down and announces, "2016 Vieux Chateau Certan, my favorite, but if ya find any fault with it, the bottle's on me. Who would like to try it?"

Aidan motions to me. "Ladies first."

Patrick pours an ounce into a glass and hands it to me.

I swirl it, then take a deep sniff and groan. "It smells so good. Is that cherries?"

"Very good!" he praises.

I take a sip, and the velvety liquid rolls over my tongue. "Mmm. This is delicious."

Patrick beams. "Glad ya approve." He fills two fresh glasses and states, "I'll be back with your first course." He disappears, and the door shuts behind him.

Aidan holds his glass in the air, grinning. "To your freedom. And the fact you're madly in love with me every second of the day."

I laugh and nudge him. "You've been waiting to say that all night, huh?"

"Aye. Sláinte."

"Sláinte." I clink my glass to his and take another mouthful.

Aidan does the same and then sets his glass down. He butters two pieces of bread and then sets them on our plates. "Eat while it's warm."

I stare at him.

"What, petal?"

I tilt my head. "Are ya ever going to stop worrying about me eating? I'm almost back to my normal weight."

"I just want ya to enjoy it while it's warm. Plus, I'm a gentleman, so lasses first."

I snicker. "Are ya?"

He leans into my ear. His hot breath sends tingles down my spine. He claims, "Only in public."

I laugh.

He picks the bread off my plate and holds it in front of my mouth. "Try it so I can too."

I take a bite, chew it, and swallow.

He watches me the entire time, then asks, "Well?"

"It's delicious."

He puts half his piece in his mouth, places his hand over his stomach, leans back, and groans.

"So dramatic," I tease, then take another bite.

He swallows, takes another swig of wine, and states, "I love bread."

"So you've said before."

"No. I really love bread." He grabs another piece and butters it.

I take a sip of wine and ask, "Would ya rather be hit by a bus or a big lorry?"

He answers, "Big lorry," then shoves more bread into his mouth.

"Why?"

He chews, swallows, and answers, "No screaming kids."

"Ya don't like screaming kids?" I tease.

He shakes his head. "More like I don't like to torture children. Ya probably don't believe me, but I love kids."

"Ya do?" I ask in surprise.

"Aye. That's why we're going to have loads of them."

I scoff. "Ha ha. Funny."

His face turns serious. "I'm not joking, lass. Unless ya break my heart and tell me ya don't want any."

I gape at him.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks.

My butterflies kick up again. I shrug. "I guess I just haven't thought about it."

He pins his gaze on me, questioning, "Ya never thought about having kids, or ya haven't thought about having them with me?"

I open my mouth and then shut it.

His face falls. "Aye. Ya don't have to say anything. Your answer is clear. Guess I'm not the father ya imagined for your children."

I put my hand on his arm. "Aidan, that's not it."

"No?"

I shake my head. "No. I..."

He arches his eyebrows and waits.

I collect my thoughts and confess, "When you're gone, all I obsess about is how this will end."

"How we'll end?" he says in a hurt voice.

"No! How it'll end with Tommy. I..." I look away, blinking hard.

Aidan slides closer to me and turns my chin toward him. He gently asks, "Finish your thought, petal."

My voice shakes as I say, "Sometimes when you're gone I have these visions." I swallow the lump in my throat, wishing my heart wouldn't race so badly.

"What visions?" he prods.

I squeeze my eyes tight.

"Petal, please tell me."

I refocus on him and admit, "That Tommy kills both of us. Only he kills ya first, and I have to watch it." My stomach flips, and I put my hand on it.

"That's not going to happen," Aidan firmly asserts.

I continue, "I don't want it to."

"It won't. We're going to live a long time," he insists.

"How do ya know?"

"Because I do."

Silence settles between us for a moment.

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes twinkle, and he says, "So once I kill Tommy, there won't be any excuses. You'll want to have my babies, right?"

A tiny laugh escapes my lips.

"No?"

I slide my arms around his shoulders, lacing my hands behind his neck. I move an inch in front of his lips and announce, "Ya can keep me barefoot and pregnant if ya want."

His face lights up. "I can?"

I nod. "I love kids. I can't wait for Alaina and Brody's baby to arrive." I kiss him, and he immediately deepens it.

Patrick clears his throat, breaking our kiss. He says, "Sorry to interrupt. Potato brandade, trout roe, and chive." He sets a plate down.

"That smells divine," I state.

"It is." He picks up the bottle of wine and tops our glasses off. "Is there anything else I can get for ya?"

Aidan looks at me, and I shake my head. He answers, "We're good, Patrick."

"Okay, I'll be back soon."

"Tell ya what, why don't ya bring everything out except the last two dishes? Then we can try it all at the same time, and ya don't need to keep coming back so much," Aidan states.

Patrick's lips twitch. "Very well, sir. I'll tell the chef."

"Thank ya."

Patrick leaves, and Aidan puts some food on his fork. He holds it in front of my mouth, and I bite into it.

I chew it, swallow, and declare, "So good."

Aidan pops a bite into his mouth and nods. "Aye."

We eat and drink in silence for a few moments.

Aidan asks, "Would ya rather be locked in a room with Alaina or Brody?"

I choke on my wine.

"Shit. Sorry, petal," he says, rubbing my back.

I finish coughing, take a sip of water, then wipe my mouth. I answer, "Alaina, hands down."

"Seriously?"

"Yea. No doubt about it."

"Why?" he asks.

"She's my sister. And she's amazing when she's not worried about my safety. Plus, she's a total badass."

"So's Brody. He's an O'Connor. All O'Connors are badasses," Aidan claims, then winks.

I roll my eyes. "Alaina's a woman. The only female in power in any clan I know of."

"Aye. I'll give ya that."

"Admit she's amazing even though she gets on your nerves."

Aidan groans.

"Ya can't deny it, can ya?" I push.

He scrubs his face, then confesses, "Fine. Ya win. Alaina is a total badass, but don't ever tell her I said it."

I laugh. "I won't. I wish I could be a badass like her."

Aidan laces his fingers through mine and kisses the back of my hand. "Ya are a badass."

I scoff. "Not in the least."

He shakes his head. "Ya go head-to-head with your sister. No one else does."

"She's my sister. I'm allowed."

"But ya don't have to. It still takes guts. Plus, ya don't back down from me." He feeds me another bite, then takes another one for himself.

I study him, then ask, "Why doesn't it bug ya?"

"What?"

"When I stand up to ya? I never could have done that to anyone in my father's clan. They would have punished me, but ya never make me feel scared or like I can't," I admit.

His eyes narrow. "One, ya should be able to speak your mind even if I disagree."

I take a deep breath. No man's ever thought that where I come from. Definitely not Da, Tommy, or my brothers.

Something passes in Aidan's expression, but I'm unsure what. He continues, "And all the women I've dated have always been scared of me."

I gape at him. "Really?"

He nods. "Aye. And I would rather go head-to-head in an argument with ya than not know what your opinion is, even if I disagree."

I stay quiet, processing his statement. Then I ask, "Why were they scared of ya? You've never hurt me in any way."

He stares at me a moment, then lowers his voice. He claims, "I think ya understand me, even if ya don't really understand the cause of me."

I put my hand on his cheek. "Are ya talking about your obsession with fire?"

"Aye. But not just that. Ya seem to accept me and my quirks. No one else ever has."

My heart swells and hurts that he hasn't felt unconditional love before. Of course, I never have until him either.

Patrick enters the room carrying a large tray. He sets six courses down until the table is full of steaming dishes.

"Wow! This looks amazing, but it's a lot," I declare.

"Don't worry. I'll finish whatever ya don't," Aidan states.

Patrick tops our water and wine off, points at each dish, tells us what each one is, then leaves the room.

Aidan fills my plate with a bit of each dish, then serves himself.

I try the bisque and groan. "I think I've died and gone to heaven!"

Aidan chuckles, tries a spoonful, and nods. "Pretty good. But I think I'll have to take ya to Baltimore."

"Baltimore? Where is that?"

He chuckles again. "South of New York City. They have the best bisque I've ever tasted, along with grapefruit-size crab cakes."

"Don't tease me!"

He puts his hand in the air. "I swear."

"Then you're definitely taking me!"

"I will," he promises, then takes another mouthful of the creamy, rich soup.

I take a forkful of the monkfish and hold it near his mouth.

He bites into it. I wait for him to swallow, and he says, "That might be my favorite."

"Really?" I take a bite and shrug.

"Ya don't like it?"

"Not as much as the bisque. Ya can have the rest."

He pushes his soup in front of me. "Then ya take this."

"Deal."

We eat in silence, trying all the dishes.

I ask, "Would ya rather never see Brody, Tynan, or Devin again?"

He freezes and stares at me.

"What?"

"That's not a fair question, lass."

"But ya have to answer it."

"Sorry, can't."

"Hmm."

"What's your hmm for?" he questions.

"I thought you'd say Devin."

He jerks his head backward. "Really? Why?"

"Because ya kept calling him a rat."

He grunts. "Aye. That wasn't cool, but in fairness, he didn't have much of a choice. Your sister really is smarter than us lot."

Shocked, I ask, "How so?"

He shrugs. "She's got her finger on the pulse. No matter what, she just seems to know what's happening."

"Except where Tommy is," I blurt out.

Tension fills the air. Aidan finally states, "I will kill him."

I nod, but my chest tightens.

"Ya don't believe me?"

"It's not that," I claim.

"I sense ya doubt my abilities," he states in a hurt voice.

I put my hand on his thigh. "I just want it over. I want ya in one piece and him dead."

"And that's exactly what will happen," Aidan insists.

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will."

More silence follows.

Aidan holds a bite of beef to my lips, and I eat it but barely taste it, wishing all this was over.

He sighs, pushes his chair back, then tugs me onto his lap. He slides his palm over my cheek and says, "Let's think about other things. This is our night out. Don't let that bastard steal it."

I release an anxious breath and then nod. "You're right."

"Of course I am," he says and winks.

I softly laugh.

His face turns serious. He studies me until my butterflies kick in.

"What?" I ask.

Something passes in his expression I've never seen before. I don't know what to make of it. He takes a minute and keeps staring at me.

"Aidan—"

"Do ya want to get married sooner rather than later, or do ya want a long engagement?"

"Wh-what do ya mean?"

"Just what I asked."

I gape at him.

He drags his knuckles down my cheek, then neck, then over the side of my breast. Tingles race down my spine. He asserts, "I'm selfishly hoping you'll say yes when I ask ya an important question."

My pulse skyrockets. I manage to whisper, "What's the question?"