“I’m told you shared a bed with Keegan a time or two.” Her smile just before she sipped more wine edged toward a smirk. “I hope you haven’t set your sights so high.”
“My sights?”
“I say this to you, woman to woman, and in friendship. He is not for one such as you.”
Breen tried the most innocent of smiles. “Such as me?”
“Much is expected of the mate of the taoiseach, and the duties are many. Too many, I’m sure you agree, for one not raised to know them, perform them.”
For the hell of it, Breen smiled again, and not so innocently. “I’m a fast learner.”
The mask slipped just a little as Shana leaned forward. “Then learn this. The taoiseach and I have what you would call an understanding.”
“Would I call it that?”
“Sure we both enjoy a dalliance here and there, and why not, as his duties often separate us. Now of course, he flies back to my bed as often as he can, but when he can’t, we’ve both agreed to take our pleasures, such as they are, where we find them. And when this business around you is finished, and you’re back in your own world, we’ll pledge and wed, make our life together here in the Capital.”
She smiled her pretty smile. “I’m more than happy, of course, to make you acquainted with others who would dally with you during your—I imagine—brief stay in the Capital.”
Rather than return the smile, Breen angled her head and studied that unquestionably stunning face. “I find it so interesting, and flattering, that someone like you feels threatened by someone like me.”
“What a foolish thing to say. You’re no threat to me.”
“You’re here because you think I am. And oddly, that makes me feel…” She rolled her shoulders, gave them a little shake. “Competitive. I’m not usually a competitive sort, and Keegan isn’t a trophy or prize, but there you go.
“More wine?”
Shana set down the cup, got to her feet. “I warn you, I can be friend, or I can be foe.”
Surprised at herself, Breen got to hers, as did Bollocks beside her. Breen laid a hand on his head to keep him still.
“You’ve already chosen, so take a warning yourself. You don’t scare me. You don’t even intimidate me, because all I’m seeing is a desperate and poorly disguised attempt to make me feel less, feel unwanted and unworthy. And I’ve got more important things to fight over than a man.”
For a humming moment, they faced off.
The knock came, and Marco poked his head. “Hey, Breen, get a load— Oh, hey. Ah, Sharla, right?”
“Shana,” she said, and instantly switched to the friendly flirt. “And how handsome you look.”
“Thanks. You look nice.”
“Charming and handsome. I’ll take my leave. So pleased to have had time to know you better, Breen Siobhan.”
“Likewise.”
“You mustn’t be late for the Leaving,” she said as she sailed out. “It’s considered rude.”
When Marco closed the door behind her, Breen grinned. “You never forget a name, and when Marco Olsen tells someone they look ‘nice’ in that tone, it’s a roast.”
“She looked awesome, but I don’t like her. Strikes me as a bad kitty. She’s got Mean Girl all over her.”
Breen walked right up to him, grabbed his face, kissed him loudly on the mouth. “That’s one of the many reasons I love you. She is totally Mean Girl.”
“What did she want?”
“I’ll tell you, but first! That is some excellent coat.”
“Right?” He did a turn in the rich brown, just-past-knee-length leather. “Nan sent it. Top nan in the history of nans.”
“She really is.” To prove it, Breen picked up her cape, swirled it on with plenty of drama.
“Look at you! Look at us!” He grabbed her, lowered her into a dip. “We’re like the cover of a romance novel.”
“I feel like a heroine, especially after that little scene with Shana.”
“Dish it.”
“Let’s walk and talk—head down and outside. I could use some cool air after all that blowhard hot.”
“And listen to you.” Delighted, Marco added a little elbow jab. “Breen the ass-kicker.”
“I was ready to kick her perfect elfin ass, let me tell you. And, more? It gave me a nice big thrill to anticipate it. What’s happened to me?”
“Whatever it is, I like it. Now tell me a story.”