Page 14 of The Mech Who Loved Me
His smile died. "Ava's afriend."
"Aye. I've met yourfriendsbefore."
"That's enough." The abruptness of his tone shocked both of them. "It's not like that. Not at all. And I won't tolerate your rudeness to someone who ain'tearnedit."
Orla blinked, then turned to look at Ava again, as though seeing her for the first time. "I apologize. It's been atryingday."
"Oh, there's no need for apologies," Ava replied, though she didn't take her hand off Kincaid's arm. The animosity was something she'd seen happen to other blue bloods, but never experiencedfirsthand.
At least not until today. Today had been a day of firsts, she thoughtsadly.
"How is he?" Kincaid let her hand go, and returned tothesoup.
"The same," Orlareplied.
"Ava, have a seat," he said, and gestured toward the scarred kitchen table. Dozens of copper pots hung over it, and someone had been chopping parsley. "I'll fetch you some tea as soon as the kettle'sboiled."
"Tea?" Orla stated, as though she couldn't helpherself.
"Ava doesn't drink blood," he replied, that heat turning his blue eyes stormy again. The cousins glared at each other. "She's created a protein solution that seems to be able to sustain her." His hands kept moving, stirring the soup, and then setting out bowls, as though the everyday tasks came naturally to him. "She's the laboratory assistant for the company Iworkfor."
"And which company was thatagain?"
"Malloryn Enterprises," he lied blandly, ladling soup into a bowl. "Does Ian want breadwithit?"
Orla grew curiously quiet. "He's not got the stomach for it anymore. The soup willbefine."
Kincaid handed her the tray, and Orla gave a curt nod in Ava's direction before she ascended thestairs.
Something was verywronghere.
"Is your uncle unwell?" she askedquietly.
Kincaid startled, then turned back to the boiling teapot. Every movement was carefully measured as he poured the fragrant brown liquid into chipped porcelain cups. They looked expensive and were clearly cherished, though Ava's father would have turned his nose up at the setting. "He'sdying."
Dying.The word loomed in the small, cozy room. "Is he... Orla'sfather?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." No wonder the other woman lookedtired.
Kincaid brought the tea setting over, handing her the pink cup with its dancing shepherdess painted on the side. "Forgive her the sharp words. She's forced to care for him day in and out, and it ain't a kinddeath."
"What's wrongwithhim?"
"His... his heart's getting weaker." Kincaid's nostrils flared. He must have been close with his uncle. "I don't really want to talk about it if I don'thaveto."
Ava sipped her tea, searching for a new topic of conversation. "How long should we hole up here while we wait for the riot to beshutdown?"
That seemed to ease him. He sank onto the stool opposite her. "It will blow over within an hour or two. I'll go out and check if it’s safe or not, before weheadhome."
"Back to Malloryn's safehouse?"
He looked up. "Where did you wanttogo?"
"Well, if it was safe, then I wanted a look at that body," Ava protested. "The more time that ticks by, the less information I'll be able to gatherfromit."
"You do realize Malloryn's throwing us a bone here. This is a distraction. Nothing more. Just something to get the pair of us out of the house after so long trappedwithin."
