Page 9 of Shameless Vows

Lies.

The priest goes on with another long monologue in Gaelic before eventually switching to English again.

“By the power vested in me by the Holy Church, the Kingdom of Corwick, and their Royal Highnesses, King Andrew IV and Queen Deirdre, I hereby pronounce you man and wife.” He raises his arms at his sides, palms facing upward. “Fellow countrymen and women, and honored guests, it is my privilege to present to you for the very first time, the Duke and Duchess of Corwick.” He takes a small step backward and gestures with one hand at Malachi. “You may now kiss your bride.”

The cathedral is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, but all I can hear is the deafening thud of my pulse in my ears as Malachi reaches to hold the hem of my veil. He lifts it slowly, draping it backward to reveal both the tiara and my face, and I have no choice but to meet his eyes.

Unlike that night in December seventeen years ago, his expression no longer mirrors that delicious warmth of new love in my heart, rather he wears a face of cold, etched stone. Similar to that night, his hands frame my face as he tilts my chin upward. And when he settles his lips on mine for the first time in eleven years, I’m hit like a two-by-four to the face that I’m in even deeper trouble than I realized, because it’s still there.

Chemistry.

Heat.

Desire.

Carnalneed.

Malachi’s mouth parts over my bottom lip, and his tongue does a discreet sweep across mine before it retreats as he ends the kiss. He pulls slightly away from my face, his eyes penetrating mine, and they do a subtle, sinister flash as his jaw pulses.

“Do not look at me like that,” he murmurs through a throaty growl that’s masked by the cheering, applauding congregation.“Idon’tlove you. That kisswas forshow. I will die before I ever place my lips on yours again, and I would sooner hang myself than consummate this marriage. The only pledge I’m making today is that I will make sure you feel exactly how much I despise you every single day for as long as I live. And you will take it, because you belong to me now, Duchess.”

With that, he takes my hand as he turns from me to face the congregation and plasters on a very convincing smile as he waves. After a second of me standing in a stupor, he does a quick, harsh clamp of his hand around mine, squeezing it so hard that my bones nearly fracture.

I force a smile and wave with my opposite hand, all the while my battered heart flinches with that same knife-twisting sensation I first felt eleven years ago.

THREE

MALACHI

Present

IT HAS BEEN SAID that when you lose someone to the clutches of death, your grief is your love for that person turned inside out. The deeper your love for them, the deeper your grief.

Hate is a lot like that when, rather than dying, the person you love betrays you.

When the person you love betrays you, your love for them is turned on its head, and the depths with which you loved them become the depths with which you hate them.

And my love for Isla Sofía Reyes was eternal and bottomless.

So now, eleven years after she betrayed me in the most spineless, heartless, callous manner imaginable, the intensity with which I hate her knows no bounds.

That said, despite the now-eternal and bottomless intensity of my hate for this woman, I still made a vow to her. Andunlikeher, I always keep my word.

Isla has been my wife for three days now. She has spent the majority of that time in the west wing of the palace I always promised her that I would bring her to one day.

Again, I always keep my word.

The only thing that changed was the reason I married her and brought her here.

I gave her the west wing because it offers the best view of the sunset, and on a clear day, you can see the distant shores of Ireland from the bay window of the main bedchamber. If nothing else, it’s something that can occupy her attention and compel her to stay in her room so I don’t have to see her. Because, despite always keeping my word, I do not like having her in my home.

Isla being in this palace, as my wife, as my duchess, as I always promised, is like having a tender bruise that you can’t help pressing on. Or a cavity that, for some inane reason, you can’t help sucking air through your teeth to feel how much it fucking stings. And I have to do whatever I can to hinder my compulsion to inflict even more suffering on myself than she’s already caused.

So, in the west wing she will stay. Probably for the rest of our lives.

Or at least, until I can deal with the problem that necessitated me dredging up my vow to her and keeping my word.

Unfortunately, I have a very public role in my country, and as my wife, Isla now has to participate in it from time to time. Especially given the arrangement I made with her father, my parents, and the members of parliament that served as the pretense for which I chose to marry her.

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