Page 83 of Bedazzled
“Good,” he said, putting in a call to Patrick.
When he appeared onscreen, he looked just as exhausted as I felt. “How are you,Ceann Fine?”
“Just pulling everything together,” he said, “there’s a lot of moving parts here. Just deciding what men I can trust is kicking my ass.”
“Speaking of ass-kicking,” I grinned a bit maliciously, “how is it going with sweet little Aisling O’Connell?”
As if on cue, we could hear shouting in the background. “Feck you, you fekkin’ fecks! All of you can go straight to hell!PÓG MO THÓIN!”
“That means, ‘you can kiss my ass,’” Patrick supplied helpfully. “Why does this feel less and less like a reward?”
“Becoming a leader is never simple, or easy,” Maksim said, not without sympathy. “When is the wedding?”
“There’s not gonna be any fekkin’ wedding!” Aisling screamed. Patrick sighed as he stood up and we were treated to the sounds of a fierce struggle until he handed her over to two of his guards and the door slammed shut. Returning to the call, he ran his hand through his hair.
“Is your hair whiter than it was last week?” I asked incredulously.
“Nothing will turn your hair white faster than an Irish woman on the rampage,” he said. “I will set the wedding for next week if you can make it. It will make the big meeting of the new captains go more smoothly if the alliance is sealed and it’s clear you stand behind it.”
“We’ll be there,” Maksim nodded. “I hope all your limbs will still be intact.”
Patrick didn’t even bother to pretend to find that amusing and signed off quickly.
“This reeks of disaster,” Maksim said.
“So did our marriages,” I pointed out, “and look how ours have turned out.”
He raised his glass of vodka, clinking it against mine. “The poor man won’t even know what hit him.”
“Probably not,” I agreed.
