The MacTaggart Brothers Trilogy

by Anna Durand

  "Terrific," I said, straightening my shirt and staggering backward a step. "I get to meet your family while I'm on the verge of orgasm."

  "At least no one will doubt we married for love." He tapped a finger on my nose. "You look like the adoring bride."

  Because I was dazed, which could easily pass for dreamy adoration of my husband. Maybe I did adore him, on occasion, but right now I could've smacked him.

  Instead, I jabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't ever do that to me again."

  He arched one brow.

  Smoothing my shirt, I tried for composure but fell short. "Unless, you know, I ask you to do it."

  "Of course," he said. "Only when you beg me for it."

  No point in arguing. My body thrummed whenever he touched me, and we both knew I wasn't above imploring him to take me.

  A fist banged on the door.

  I jumped. Rory withdrew his hand from my hip, his body went rigid, and his gaze sharpened on the door.

  "Rory!" A man shouted. "Are ye coming out to see us? Or should we let ourselves inside?"

  My husband stomped to the door, ripped it open, and confronted the man waiting on the doorstep.

  As tall as Rory, the stranger boasted a body even more muscular than his brother's. His lustrous blue irises glittered in the sunlight, and humor glinted in those eyes as he took in the sight of me, pink-cheeked and flustered. The stranger resembled Rory in many ways, though his chestnut hair was a shade darker than Rory's and lacked the golden overtones.

  Rory made an exasperated noise. "Aidan, what the bloody hell are you doing? We'll come out when we're ready."

  "When you're ready," Aidan repeated with a sly smile. "Would that be before or after you have a quick poke in the vestibule?"

  He enunciated "vestibule" so carefully, and with a smidgen of sarcasm, that I wondered if Rory was a stickler for making everyone use the correct term for this entryway.

  Yeah, he would be.

  Rory made a sound between a growl and a huff. "I don't have a poke anywhere."

  I raised my hand. "What's a poke?"

  Aidan's lips split into a mischievous grin. "It's a word for sex."

  I stepped up beside Rory, though his arm blocked me from Aidan, what with his hand on the doorjamb. "We weren't doing that."

  "What a shame," Aidan said, still grinning. He thumped his fist into Rory's shoulder. "I see why ye married her so fast. She's bonnie and braw."

  "I'm what now?" I asked.

  "Braw means fine, and bonnie means beautiful."

  I'd known what bonnie meant, but braw was a new one on me. "Thank you for the compliment, then. I'm Emery, by the way, since my husband won't introduce us."

  Ducking under Rory's arm, I squeezed in front of him and proffered my hand to Aidan. He shook it, his smile deepening when Rory squinted and compressed his lips.

  My brother-in-law turned sideways, motioning us to come outside. "Everyone's waiting."

  A gaggle of people — men, women, and two babies — observed from the other side of the courtyard, near the garden.

  Rory grasped my shoulders, anchoring me in place.

  Aidan waggled his eyebrows. "Willnae let her out of the house, eh? From what Jamie said, Emery's not the sort to let you lock her indoors."

  "I'm also not the sort," I said, "to do whatever my husband says."

  "Aye, Jamie said that too." Aidan's eyes glittered with more than sunshine. "A strong-willed, feisty American. Just the sort of woman Rory needs, whether he knows it or not."

  That was when I decided I liked Aidan. Without a thought for what Rory or anyone might think, I hopped up to give Aidan a quick hug. "What a nice thing to say. Thank you, Aidan."

  When I dropped back onto my heels, sideways to Rory, my husband rolled his eyes. "You can stop thanking my brother for being an erse."

  "He means ass," Aidan explained.

  "Rory, your brother is not an ass," I said. "Now, let's go greet the rest of your family."

  *****

  Like a king and queen receiving guests, Rory and I stood in front of the little arbor in the garden as his relatives filed past to greet us. The fragrance of roses wafted from the vines that climbed the arbor's latticework, while huge rhododendron bushes blossomed at either side of us. Nine MacTaggarts shook my hand, and each one expressed happiness about my marriage to Rory. The kindness of their words touched me so deeply I couldn't restrain myself.

  I hugged all of them.

  Rory's older brother, Lachlan, slapped my husband on the arm and said, "Did ye kidnap her, Rory?"

  His wife, Erica — a pretty American with brown hair who held their toddler son, Nicholas, in her arms — shook her head. "Give the poor girl a break. She's not used to the MacTaggart tradition of incessant, well-meaning harassment."

  Rory ignored his brother's comment, though Lachlan seemed thoroughly entertained by Rory's harried expression.

  Aidan breezed past Lachlan towing the lovely Calli, his redheaded American wife, in his wake. He secured her delicate hand with his big one. She cradled a baby in a sling-like doohickey that crossed diagonally over her chest and abdomen.

  "Out of the way, Lachie," Aidan said briskly. "Donnae get to hog the new girl."

  Lachlan scowled at his brother's use of the diminutive Lachie.

  Rory came soooo close to smiling.

  The procession included Gavin Douglas, the brother of Aidan's wife. He seemed uneasy at this family gathering, but we exchanged comments about getting used to a new country. I learned he was also Jamie's boyfriend, and that they had a long-distance romance. He would fly back to America later today.

  I got a bit queasy when Rory introduced me to his parents. Niall and Sorcha MacTaggart treated me like a longtime member of the family, but I felt weird keeping up our farce for them. Fooling his siblings was one thing. Tricking his mommy and daddy was quite another.

  Sorcha latched her arms around me and said, "Welcome to the family, Emery. We couldn't be more pleased to meet anyone."

  Rory snorted out a poorly stifled laugh. "Don't let Lachlan or Aidan hear you say that. They think their wives are the bonniest, most charming women in all the world."

  "They are," his mother said. "All our American daughters are equally bonnie and sweet and welcome. But Emery is a wonderful surprise."

  "Aye," said Niall, his face betraying nothing in a Rory-like fashion. Like father, like son. "We were afraid those other ones had put Rory off marriage for good."

  "Niall," his wife chastised, "we agreed not to mention the others in front of Emery."

  He made a dismissive noise. "Sorcha, ye cannae treat him like a bairn. Rory's a grown man who can abide hearing his ex-wives mentioned."

  Rory had gone stiff, his face blank, his eyes trained on me.

  Was he worried how I'd react to the mention of his exes? Or did talk of them upset him? Maybe he still loved one of the women who'd wrecked him. I had no illusions I could fix Rory, but I could sure as hell challenge him to enjoy life a bit more.

  Rory's sisters herded their parents out of the way, determined to corral me. Jamie I'd met yesterday, so I greeted her with a hug. Fiona offered a friendly introduction and assured me she agreed with Aidan that I was perfect for Rory, inspiring me to hug her as well. Catriona hung back until both her sisters ambled off to mingle and Lachlan called Rory away.

  Catriona inspected me for a moment, seeming to gauge my worthiness. Then she nodded, satisfied, and glanced past my shoulder. "I have to thank you for that."

  "For what?" I peeked over my shoulder, to where Rory hung out with his brothers. My husband was laughing and smiling, gesticulating to illustrate whatever he'd said. I swallowed against a lump in my throat. He seemed happier with his brothers than with me.

  "He's never been this happy before," Catriona said. "The last time I saw him laughing this way was at Lachlan's wedding. You're clearly good for him."

  I wanted to be good for him, I tr
ied to be good for him. Catriona's confirmation I'd succeeded, in whatever small way, made tears prick at my eyes. If his family thought he'd found happiness with me, maybe I had a chance after all.

  Naturally, I threw my arms around Catriona. "Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me."

  She patted my back, muttered something polite, and left to find her sisters.

  A bit later, Calli and Erica tracked me down to offer me advice on living with a Scotsman.

  "If your husband says something that sounds like gibberish," Erica told me, "call me or Calli. We can translate for you."

  "And if your husband mentions a caber," Calli said, "that's a big wooden pole. Scottish men like to throw them around."

  "Good to know," I said.

  We agreed to get together one day soon, just the American wives. When I referred to us as the American Wives Club, both women laughed and agreed it was the perfect name for us.

  A few minutes after Calli and Erica left me, Sorcha towed Rory back to me with Niall hurrying to catch up to them. Rory's mother shooed him toward me as her husband jogged up beside her.

  Sorcha claimed both my hands, sandwiching them between her warm palms. "Rory told us you haven't seen your family in a long time. I hope ye donnae mind, but I asked for your parents' number and Rory gave it to me. I had a good chat with your mother last night."

  How had Rory gotten my parents' number? I'd grill him about that later.

  I smiled at my mother-in-law. "That's great. I imagine you and my mom commiserated over being left out of the loop on this marriage thing. I really have to apologize —"

  "Hush, lass." Sorcha squeezed my hands. "I'm happy to see Rory awake to the world again. He's been hiding in his castle keep for too long, like the ghost of a medieval laird."

  I couldn't prevent my smile from broadening. "That's a perfect description, Mrs. MacTaggart."

  "Och." She waved a dismissive hand. "Call me Sorcha."

  Sorcha looked at me like I was the answer to her prayers.

  Man, Rory hadn't exaggerated. His family must've really wanted him to get married again.

  His mother freed my hands. "Penny and I had a wonderful idea. Since you and Rory eloped, neither family had the chance to witness your marriage."

  Rory secured an arm around my waist. "Mother, what are you on about?"

  With a decisive little nod, she said, "We're having a wedding for you. A proper, traditional ceremony."

  Rory sighed. "If it'll make you happy, we can plan it for a few months out."

  "No." Sorcha anchored her hands on her hips. "It'll be Saturday two weeks."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Bod an Donais," Rory hissed. "Ye cannae order us to —"

  "Rory Niall MacTaggart, don't you curse at me," Sorcha said in that tone every mother perfected. "You decided to sweep the lass off her feet and bulldoze her through a marriage ceremony in a magistrate's office, in another country. This wedding is for Emery as much as for me and Penny and our families."

  Rory moaned, with a hint of a whine. "Mother…"

  She arched one brow exactly the way he did sometimes. "Lachlan and Aidan gave us weddings."

  Ah, the guilt card. Well played, Sorcha.

  Rory's shoulders slumped. "I gave ye three ceremonies. How many do ye need?"

  "One for every marriage. Lachlan didnae complain about another wedding."

  "He's only had two."

  Out the corner of my mouth, I whispered to him, "Let her have this."

  He shut his eyes and hung his head for a moment, then pulled himself up. "You can have your wedding. In three weeks."

  "It's your wedding, Rory," Sorcha said. "And you will pay for it, won't you."

  Not a question. A declaration.

  He grimaced ever so faintly. "I will."

  "Then you can have three weeks." Sorcha winked at me.

  I loved this woman.

  Rory's mother grasped his face and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. "Good lad."

  He shot me a resigned look.

  Sorcha kissed my cheek next. "This is for you, Emery. We willnae do anything you don't want."

  With that, she led Niall away to inform everyone of the upcoming nuptials. He glanced back at Rory and shrugged in the universal male acknowledgment that a man couldn't argue with a determined woman.

  "I like your parents," I said.

  Rory grunted. "You want a posh wedding."

  "No, but this will make our mothers feel better. Don't you want your mom to be happy?"

  Another grunt. "Arguing with women about weddings is a futile endeavor."

  I debated whether to ask but decided to go on and do it. "Did you have big weddings the first three times?"

  "Not extravaganzas. Tasteful ceremonies."

  "I'm sure our mothers won't go hog wild with this one."

  He pinched his lips. "I should speak to Lachlan and Aidan. Maybe their wives can help us keep this bloody wedding under control."

  Ah yes, control. He needed to believe he held the reins. An illusion, of course, with two enthusiastic mothers involved, but I'd let him hold on to his fantasy.

  "You do that," I said, and kissed his cheek.

  I hung out under the arbor, alone. Observing the MacTaggarts made me miss my family all the more, but I'd already made friends with Jamie and possibly Catriona, so I couldn't complain. After a while, I caught sight of Rory near the rhododendrons, engaged in conversation with his brothers and their wives.

  My heart stuttered.

  Rory was grinning. He looked younger and more relaxed than I'd ever seen him.

  When he glanced my way, his smile faded into a slight frown. He averted his gaze.

  Oh great. I made my husband stop smiling.

  I meandered away from the arbor, a cold pit forming in my stomach, and chose a position near the garden entrance away from the crowd. Rory frowned when he saw me. Catriona claimed I made him happy, but his actions contradicted her assertion.

  A few minutes later, Aidan approached me. "You're looking lonely over here. Where's Rory?"

  "Not sure. I think he's mad about the wedding plot."

  "He'll be fine," Aidan said. "After he figures out he cannae stop two mothers."

  "I think he knows that already, but he's waging a desperate battle to avoid an onslaught of taffeta, puffy sleeves, and doves flying over our heads while dropping rose petals on us."

  Aidan laughed softly and sidled closer, lowering his head as he spoke in a sardonically conspiratorial tone. "Maybe you can solve a mystery for me. Why do women like Rory? He's got a caber up his erse."

  He's a sex god in the bedroom, that's why, I mused. But I said, "Afraid I can't divulge confidential information."

  Aidan glanced around as if concerned someone might overhear. "He's a devil worshiper, isn't he?"

  I smacked his chest with the back of my hand. "Calli warned me you're a rascal."

  "Cannae deny it." Aidan rubbed his chin. "Lachie and me, we were trying to advise Rory about how to handle motherly interference. But he kept looking at you, like he couldn't bear to be separated from you by even a few meters."

  Oh sure, Rory couldn't bear to be separated from me. That's why he slept in his own bedroom at the opposite end of a very long hall.

  "We all agree," Aidan said. "Rory's gone doolally for ye."

  I decided that meant crazy. The notion was itself nuts. Rory liked having sex with me, but he'd exhibited no signs of anything "doolally."

  Despite doubting his statement, I suffered an irresistible impulse to hug Aidan. I clamped my arms around his broad torso and said, "You guys have all been so sweet. I feel like part of the family."

  "Ye are family," Aidan said, his arms coming around me. "You're our sister."

  "Aidan, unhand my wife, if you please."

  Rory's tone brooked no nonsense yet was tinged with humor.

  I pulled away from Aidan to find Rory watchi
ng us from ten feet away.

  Aidan bunched his shoulders, hands spread wide. "What? She hugged me, Rory. Would've been rude to shove her away."

  Rory crossed the distance to me, slinging an arm around my waist to haul me into his body. "Maybe I should wrap myself around your wife, Aidan."

  His brother grinned at me. "Doolally, see?"

  Aidan clapped Rory on the shoulder and moseyed off in the direction of Lachlan.

  Rory massaged his forehead. "Must you fling yourself at everyone you meet?"

  "I was expressing gratitude. Aidan said I'm part of the family, which was very sweet of him."

  "The pair of you were having an intimate discussion, by the look of it."

  Tangled in Rory's embrace, I had to wriggle to get turned around and face him. "Aidan wanted to know why women like you."

  "I see. What did you —"

  A sight past my shoulder stole his attention. His face went slack. He didn't blink. Didn't move. Didn't breathe as far as I could tell.

  Rory brushed past me to stop a few feet from the opening in the wall.

  A rangy man occupied the garden entrance, a stranger of average height with gray-peppered brown hair and crow's feet around his eyes. He seemed a bit older than Rory, but the saggy skin under his eyes and his uneven coloring suggested he was a smoker prematurely aged by his habit. He dressed in rumpled khakis and a polo shirt, his longish hair unkempt.

  "What do you want?" Rory asked the man in a flat voice. "You weren't invited, and you are not welcome here."

  "I'm a journalist, MacTaggart," the man said. "Your new bride is big news in the village. Everyone wants to know if your taste in women has improved, or if you'll be a victim of another failed marriage."

  The man's smug look implied he liked the idea of Rory losing another wife.

  Rory scoffed. "You are a journalist as much as I'm a sheep farmer. At least sheep shit washes off your clothes. The stench of being a bod ceann can't be cleansed."

  The rest of the MacTaggart clan gathered behind us, with Aidan and Lachlan alongside me.

  "Graham Oliver," Lachlan said, his tone making it clear he disdained the man. "Rory told ye to leave, so go on. Before I skelp your sorry hide raw."