The MacTaggart Brothers Trilogy

by Anna Durand

  Despite the questions bouncing around in my brain — questions about how Seona was injured, why she would tell Aidan to stay away from her, why he seemed to feel guilty where she was concerned — I kept my curiosity in check. He had no obligation to tell me everything, particularly when I couldn't tell him everything about me.

  "You wanted to know why I married a man I never loved."

  Aidan nodded. "If you want to tell me. Don't feel you have to because I told you about Seona."

  "It's okay. I want to tell you." I gave him a quick kiss. "Though it's very sweet of you to give me an out."

  He took both my hands in one of his, holding them to his chest. "Whatever you feel like sharing, I'm listening. You can tell me anything and I will keep your secrets, you have my word."

  My heart did a silly flippy-floppy thing. I swallowed against a constriction in my throat. "I met Rade in college. He's from Croatia and came here on a student visa. Though he was two years ahead of me, we became friends and spent a lot of time together — but just as friends. His parents had died when he was eight and he inherited a real fortune. I don't know exactly how much, but it would definitely qualify as stinking rich."

  The warmth of Aidan's hand around both of mine anchored me to the present as my thoughts traveled back in time. My stomach hurt at the awareness of what I intended to say next. I'd avoided thinking about it for so long, but somehow, this man made me want to confide.

  "Five years ago," I began, "my parents died in a car accident. My brother Gavin didn't handle it well. He'd left the Marines eight months earlier, after a tour in Afghanistan, and he wasn't completely readjusted to civilian life yet. He's the toughest guy I know, but he basically fell apart after our parents died and I had to handle everything. There were bills and debts neither of us had known about because our parents had kept their financial problems a secret. No life insurance, they'd stopped making payments on it. No savings. Almost nothing in their checking account. It was a horrible time, discovering how much they'd kept from us and we couldn't even ask them for an explanation."

  Aidan clasped my hands in both of his now, lifting one of mine to place a soft kiss on the back of my hand.

  The start of tears burned in my eyes and my throat ached. I forced the words out. "Rade was very kind during those first weeks after the accident. Two months later, he asked me —" How could I explain without mentioning the fraudulent aspect of our marriage? I did the best I could. "He asked me to marry him, for reasons I can't explain. I agreed, not because I wanted to be married to him but because I owed him a lot more than I can tell you."

  "You don't have to say any more, if you don't want to."

  "Thank you." The tears welled up more, about to spill over onto my cheeks. I sniffled and tried to wrest my hand free of his to swipe at my eyes.

  He released my hands to wipe away the tears with his thumbs.

  "Rade saved me, in a way," I said. "My life was in shambles, and he stepped in to pay bills I couldn't, helped me stay in school to finish my degree and go on to grad school. He gave me a place to stay too, when I couldn't afford my apartment anymore. When he asked me for a favor, I couldn't say no."

  "A favor?" Aidan squinted, studying me. "Marriage isn't a favor."

  "Please, Aidan, I can't tell you anything more."

  Lips compressed, he watched me for a few seconds. Then he exhaled a long breath and ran the backs of his fingers down my cheek. "I'm sorry. This is not my business, but I don't like the sound of your arrangement with this Rade person."

  Arrangement. He couldn't know how accurate that description was.

  "Thank you." I kissed his cheek. "You're a very good man, Aidan MacTaggart."

  He stood and stretched, his lithe body arching. Offering me his hand, he said, "This has been a tiring evening. To bed with you, Calli."

  "You sound like a medieval lord," I said, accepting his aid in getting up off the sofa.

  "If I were, you'd have to obey me."

  "Lucky for you, I feel like doing what you commanded. Sleep sounds wonderful right about now."

  He walked me to my bedroom door, which hung halfway open. Inside, the puppies had already settled in for the night on my bed, Misty at the foot and Mandy half on my pillow.

  "Sleep well," Aidan said.

  "Good night."

  He pressed a kiss to my lips, lingering there for a long moment. When he turned and strode into his room — the guest room, I reminded myself, not his room — I retreated into my bedroom, acutely aware something had changed between us tonight. Something important. Something irrevocable. I'd opened up to him more than I had to anyone else in a very long time.

  As I shut the door, my gaze flitted to the guest room and its closed door. We still had secrets between us, but if I let him stay much longer, we'd wind up revealing all to each other. I knew it, the way I knew the sun would rise in the morning. It was inevitable.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next evening, I gazed across the table at Aidan where he lounged in the armchair kitty-corner to the sofa. I sat in the sofa's corner, legs tucked under me, trying very hard not to climb onto Aidan's lap. The remains of our dinner littered the coffee table — two plates scattered with crumbs, two empty water glasses, and two sets of forks and knives. Aidan had insisted on making our meal from scratch, and damn, the man really was a genius in the kitchen.

  He hooked one ankle over the opposite knee, his hands on the chair's arms. His feet were bare. Dressed in a gray T-shirt and jeans that hugged his delicious body, he looked at ease and mouthwateringly hot. Of course, he always looked that way. Hot. Nibble-worthy. Tempting beyond belief.

  Aidan's gaze swiveled to me and he rubbed his lips together. "What's for dessert?"

  The way he spoke those words, he might as well have said I'm eating you for dessert.

  "Nothing," I said. "Sorry, I didn't have time for baking, what with playing referee between the puppies and every object not nailed down in this house. They're always rambunctious, but they love you so much they're insanely happy."

  "The pups are adorable, but not half as adorable as you."

  "You're pretty damn adorable yourself."

  A devilish smile parted his lips. "I'm wicked, remember? Maybe I need to remind you of it."

  How did he do that? Veer the conversation back around to sex, no matter what mundane thing we'd been discussing.

  Rising, he stretched his arms into the air and arched his back, tightening muscles and pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal a glimpse of rock-hard abs. "Lachlan sent me another present."

  A box had arrived by FedEx overnight delivery, addressed to Aidan care of me. He hadn't shown me its contents, only gave me a secretive smile when I asked about it.

  "Thought you hated his presents," I said, failing in my attempt to not gawk at him. Even with his best features masked by jeans and a shirt, I could spy hints of sinuous limbs and all those acres of soft, hair-dusted skin I'd ogled when he stripped for me.

  "Ah, but this one is for you," he said, ambling toward the kitchen. "I stashed it in a cabinet, behind other things."

  I craned my neck to follow his movements. "Do I want to know what this gift is?"

  "Something I want to share with you." Giving me a mysterious smile, he bent down to retrieve the item in question, disappearing behind the bar. When he popped up again, he held something behind his back. "Close your eyes."

  "Why?"

  "So suspicious," he chided with humor in his tone and in his eyes. "Trust me."

  I settled back into the sofa cushions and shut my eyes.

  Aidan's footsteps padded on the carpet, and within a moment, his weight settled onto the cushion beside me. "Open your eyes."

  Blinking slowly, I turned my attention to the object in his hand. His fingers wrapped around a bottle of liquor filled with a golden liquid that almost glowed in the lamplight. He rotated the bottle so I could see the label. Reading it aloud, pronouncing the na
me carefully, I said, "Talisker single-malt Scotch whisky."

  He nodded, proud of himself for this offering.

  "Whisky?" I said. Scots apparently spelled it without the E before the Y. Interesting. "You know I don't drink."

  "Because you've never tasted a drink you like, that's what you said." He wagged the bottle. "You will like this. It's made on the Isle of Skye, off the western coast of the Highlands."

  "I've heard of Skye, but I seriously doubt I'm going to like its whisky."

  "Not just any whisky." He lifted his chin. "Scottish whisky. A single malt distilled on a mystical island where the ancients held their mysterious rituals to commune with gods."

  "How will a history lesson make me like the booze?"

  He huffed. "Will you not let me tell you about the whisky? I'm trying to paint a picture for you."

  "I'm sorry, really. You're creating a wonderful picture for me, but I doubt anything you say could alter my taste buds." I eyed the bottle with faux suspicion. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. MacTaggart?"

  "Don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you." He tipped the bottle to one side. "Will you try it once?"

  I considered the bottle for a moment, absorbing the warm and smoky color of the whisky. It did look good, and this seemed oddly important to him. "Okay. One sip."

  With a grateful smile, he plucked up the small glass he must've hidden with the bottle. A whisky glass, I guessed. He opened the bottle, his arm muscles tautening with the effort, and decanted the liquor into the glass, filling it with one inch of amber liquid.

  He offered me the glass. "Taste the legend of Skye."

  I gave him a playful smile. "You're starting to sound like a Scottish tourism brochure."

  "Taste the bloody whisky."

  "Yes, sir." I lifted the glass, sniffing the amber liquid. A strong, acrid scent filled my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose. "Smells like bad vinegar."

  His lips tightened, his eyes went squinty. But he regained his composure in a heartbeat, his lips curling into a sensual expression. "Take a sip, let it slide down your throat, and feel the whisky penetrate your body."

  I dipped my nose to sniff again.

  Aidan slapped a hand over the glass, blocking my olfactory attempt. "Drink, don't smell."

  "Okay, okay." I waited for him to remove his hand, then lifted the glass to my mouth. It felt cool against my lips. "Here goes."

  I took a sip — and gagged.

  Before I could even swallow, the whisky seared my mouth and its acrid taste invaded my senses. I gulped it down, desperate to get it out of my mouth, but the bluckiness seemed trapped on my tongue. I shoved the glass at Aidan and used my shirt to scrub my tongue as a coughing fit overtook me.

  Aidan stared at me, face slack, the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other.

  Recovering from the coughing, I cleared my throat several times in quick succession. My voice hoarse, I declared, "That's the most awful thing I've ever put in my mouth."

  He collapsed against the sofa, facing forward. The bottle rested between his thighs, but he held the glass on his lap. His expression resembled total defeat.

  "Cannae believe it," he mumbled. "This worked for Lachlan."

  The words sifted into my brain, their meaning hitting me like a splash of cold water. I sat up and looked straight at him. "Was this another thing Lachlan did with Erica?"

  "Aye," he admitted miserably, rubbing his forehead. "It's how he started his seduction. She loved the whisky."

  I cringed a little, experiencing a twinge of guilt for my reaction. Maybe I should've pretended to like it, or at least hidden my disgust, but I wasn't that good a liar. "Two days ago, you wouldn't play a board game with me because Lachlan and Erica did that. Why are you back to reenacting their affair?"

  "Wanted to do something special, but I couldn't think of anything. Seemed like a good idea until you drank the whisky."

  I laid a hand on his arm. "I was kind of obnoxious about that. Can you forgive me?"

  "Aye, it's not your fault." He let his head fall back. "I'm the eejit who keeps trying to re-create my brother's affair. I figured if it worked for uptight Lachie, then it has to work for me."

  "I'm not Erica and you're not Lachlan. How about we try being ourselves? You don't need to win me over with liquor and flowery descriptions of an island. I like you, Aidan. I'm here with you, not your brother."

  He grumbled. "If you met Lachlan, you'd probably like him better."

  "Bullshit." I rested my chin on his shoulder, sliding my hand over his abdomen, relishing the texture of hard muscle beneath the smooth cloth of his shirt. "You don't need props to impress me."

  He swigged a mouthful of whisky, a bit of it spilling onto his lips.

  I took his face in my hands, sat up, and dragged my tongue across first his bottom lip, then his upper lip. "Mm, it tastes better on you."

  His breath hitched, his eyes locked onto mine.

  My hands still bracketing his face, I tugged him closer. Our gazes never separated, as if a rope bound us to each other. I captured his lower lip between mine and suckled, gently at first, then with more hunger as the familiar, heady desire flared inside me. Though he held onto the whisky bottle with one hand, the other settled onto my hip, his fingers curling around it.

  I released his lip.

  Our labored breaths reflected off each other amid the whispers of our exhalations. I scented the whisky on his breath, and suddenly, an overpowering need to taste it on his tongue seized me.

  I crushed my mouth to his.

  He made a soft noise — part groan, part gasp — and opened his mouth to me.

  Need pulsed through me, from my nipples mashed to his hard chest straight down to my tightening clitoris. I held fast to his face as I thrust my tongue inside his soft, hot mouth. He coiled his tongue around mine in a slow and seductive movement that drove me to quest deeper, to lap up the flavor of whisky and Aidan, to draw a piece of him into myself. The texture of his mouth, a juxtaposition of satiny softness and unyielding teeth, had me virtually panting into his mouth, my breasts heaving against his torso, rubbing my rigid nipples.

  He surged up off the sofa, leaving me in a daze on the cushions.

  I blinked up at him, struggling to clear the haze of desire and catch my breath.

  Aidan gulped down a mouthful of whisky, then clapped the bottle down on the coffee table. Swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he glanced down at me with parted lips and ruddy cheeks.

  "Best stop," he said, and stalked around the sofa to the bar where he planted both palms on the surface, leaning into it with his head bowed.

  I sat there for a moment, confused. He couldn't have been offended I kissed him. What, then, had made him stop?

  Pushing up off the sofa, I marched over to the bar and halted beside Aidan. He didn't move, his head still down and his eyes closed. I placed one hand on his and he tensed the tiniest bit.

  "What is it?" I asked. "Thought you liked kissing me."

  "I love it," he said in a hushed voice. "But I want more than kissing."

  Keeping my hand on his, I bent one finger to stroke the back of his hand. "I know. You want sex. I want —"

  "No." He pulled his hand away, turned, and walked halfway across the living room. Scrubbing his face with one hand, he sighed. "I want more than sex. You know that."

  I leaned against the bar, my elbow braced on it. "Okay, but you said sex would come first."

  He faced me, standing straight and certain. "Marry me."

  "What?" I almost shouted the word, shocked by his declaration. "Where is this coming from? You know I can't marry you. Even if I wanted to, we barely know each other."

  "Aye, but I know what I want."

  My stomach fluttered, and my pulse began to race. Seven days, that's how long I'd known this man. Seven days, and I already got excited at the prospect of marrying him. He wasn't Rade, he wasn't Tara's first husband, he w
asn't anything like Gavin's ex-wife. I knew this, and yet I feared I'd make another mistake that would trap me.

  Aidan took two steps toward me, hesitating five feet away. "Please, Calli, marry me. I swear I'll make you happy and you'll never regret this. One day, maybe you'll even love me."

  "Do you love me?"

  He lowered his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "Not yet."

  "Then why would you want to marry me? What's the rush?"

  One of his shoulders hiked up. He stared at the floor, his mouth tight, as seconds ticked by on the clock in my head. After a couple minutes, he shuffled to the padded chair on the other side of the living room, the one situated against the wall under a topographic map of the Upper Peninsula. He fell into the chair with a groaning sigh, his shoulders deflating, his entire body slumping. Hands on the chair's arms, he refused to look up at me, even as I crossed the room to kneel before him.

  "Aidan." I placed my hands on his knees. "Please tell me what's going on with you."

  "Ye donnae want to hear."

  I shifted my hands to his thighs. "Yes, I do."

  He made a pitiful noise, his mouth twisted. "Lachlan didn't want a wife, but he found one. Thought if I did what he'd done, I could change your mind about me. But ye still donnae want me, not the way I want you."

  "Did Lachlan propose to Erica after one week?"

  "No." Aidan fidgeted in his seat. "First, he broke her heart and left her for two months. Then, he begged her to marry him."

  "Uh-huh." I tapped a finger on his chest. "Why would you want to reenact that? Sounds like the Amazing Lachlan fucked it up with Erica and then got lucky when she generously took him back. Is that really how you want things to go with me?"

  His eyes rolled up to meet mine. His lips curled up at the corners. "You said fuck."

  "That's what you took away from what I said?"

  "No, I understood the rest." He bent one arm to prop his chin on his knuckles. "But I've never heard you say fuck before. Kind of like it, though I'd rather hear it from you when we're both naked."

  I sat back on my heels, giving him a sardonic smile. "Getting back to Lachlan…"