Chapter 567 Of Course, I Thought Too Highly of Myself

The nonchalance crushed the emotional storm he himself had created in Deirdre. Balling her hands into fists, she willed herself to suppress the urge not to deck her hand across Brendan's face.

"Your conscience? After all the sins you've committed? After all the lives you've ruined? And all you get is your wimpy conscience burning a hole in your non-existent soul!? Your conscience is worthless!"

There was something unreadable and nebulous in Brendan’s black eyes, but he managed to maintain his caustic tongue. "All that is in the past, McKinnon, so can you stop yapping about it? What do you want me to do? Scrap my knees begging you for forgiveness? Grow up."

"Grow... up?" Deirdre could almost see black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She could not stop herself from sneering. "I guess you're right. I need to grow up and stop being so naive. How could I possibly demand the great and mighty Mr. Brighthall to beg for my forgiveness? How could I commit the sin of making his conscience slap him on his wrist!? Oh God, of course! I thought too highly of myself!"

Brendan turned his head sideways. He could not seem to come up with even more acerbic things to one-up her. Maybe, his fever had gotten severe enough that it was impeding his thoughts.

Deirdre managed to pull herself out of her rage to ask, "And what about the spaghetti you wanted me to make? Did you dream of it?"

"Yes." Something twinkled in his eyes.

Brendan, she was reminded of his medicine. She moved her stiffened body and took it from the

it and rest early. I want you to gain enough strength to

he had

have known this was what awaited him. His head made his thoughts feel like a boiling pot of glue swirling

swallowed the pills, lay down, and

sit,” Deirdre

"Until morning?"

She ignored him.

put it on, and climbed out

commotion, Deirdre frowned.

bed.

his destination exactly as he said he

she believed was another one of Brendan's elaborate games and sneered. "Get back here on the bed. I'm not the kind of *sshole who'd kick a

his eyes,

in, but he managed to fall asleep. It was only after hearing his slow, rhythmic breathing that Deirdre realized the man was being sincere. There was no trick,

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