by Joss Wood
‘Mmm... What a pair we are. You’ve heard the news?’
‘That James is on his way back from Colombia and a deal is imminent?’
‘Yeah.’
Morgan sighed and pointed out a word on her computer screen. ‘What’s this word?’
Riley bent down and peered over her shoulder. ‘Vichyssoise.’
‘Jeez, I can’t read in English and they throw French words in,’ Morgan grumbled. ‘Do you have some time? Can you go through this menu for the ball with me?’
‘Sure.’
She and Riley spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the ball, finalising the menu and the entertainment, the decorations and the ticket sales—which were going through the roof.
‘We also need to approve the design of the mannequin cages and we need Noah’s input there.’
Morgan stared at her fingers. ‘Feel free to call him. I won’t.’
She felt the tears in the back of her throat. His words from a week ago still bounced around her skull.
‘I don’t want you here any more.’
He’d preferred to face his demons alone than have her around. What did that say about her? She could understand him dumping her when they got back to New York, when he got bored with the sex, but she’d seen how much pain he’d been in, how he’d been struggling to deal with the memories of his past, and she’d thought that he’d want her there—that he wouldn’t want to go through that alone.
But, no, Noah hadn’t wanted her around.
All her life she’d tried to be good enough—for her family, for herself. She knew that she didn’t always reach the standard she’d set for herself, and mostly she was okay with that. But to be told, during such a sad time, that she wasn’t wanted or needed had lashed her soul.
She simply wasn’t good enough...
‘Horse crap, Morgan.’
She heard Noah’s words spoken at Bon Chance as clear as day and actually looked around for the source of that statement. When Riley didn’t react she looked inside herself and heard the phrase again.
‘The biggest, load of self-indulgent horse crap.’
Morgan almost laughed as emotion swelled inside her. She wasn’t sure where it came from, what its source was, but she recognised the power of it, saw the pure truth for the first time in a week, months—her entire life.
‘Bats on a freakin’ broomstick,’ she muttered.
‘Pardon?’ Riley looked up and frowned.
Morgan looked at her best friend and put her hand over her mouth in surprised shock. ‘What happened with Noah wasn’t about me...it was about him.’
‘Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Riley complained.
‘Him kicking me into touch wasn’t about me—wasn’t about me not being good enough. I just assumed it was because I always assume the worst about myself. I keep saying that it’s hard for people to deal with my dyslexia. but in truth I’ve never come to terms with it. And because of that I assume that everything is about me. My habitual reaction is to think that I’m not good enough, to think the worst of myself.’
Riley leaned back and clapped a slow beat. ‘Well, glory hallelujah, the child has seen the light.’
Morgan stood up and paced the area in front of Riley. ‘He told me what the problem was but I didn’t listen. He said that he didn’t like feeling so connected to me—something about his heart and feeling joy when I was around. That around me emotion twisted him up.’ Morgan pointed her finger at Riley. ‘He’s the one who’s scared, who doesn’t know what to do with me. He felt insecure and emotional and... Damn it, I’m going to smack him into next year!’
Riley smiled. ‘I’d like to see you try.’
‘He was hurting and not knowing why he was grieving for his father—the man was a waste of oxygen by all accounts—he didn’t know how to channel his emotion and he lashed out. He needed me, but he was scared to need me. Everyone else he needed had either left him or let him down. He had to push me away to protect himself.’
‘Look at you—you’re a female Dr Phil.’ Riley crossed her legs. ‘So, what are you going to do, Morgs?’
‘Go to him, of course. I might understand better, but I’m still mad that he kicked me into touch.’ Morgan smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I’m so going to kick some gorgeous SAS ass.’
Riley nodded. ‘That’s my girl.’
* * *
Back in London, in his favourite pub, Noah took a listless sip of his beer and looked up as his brothers sat down on the bar stools on either side of him. It seemed that Chris, who was outside taking a call, felt he needed reinforcements for the lecture he intended to dole out. Wuss.
Noah sent a look to the door and thought that he could get by Chris if he wanted to. He’d taken on a room full of Colombian thugs—nearly killing one in the process—and won.
Yeah, run away from this conversation like a coward, Fraser—like you did from Morgan. Just to add to the long list of things he’d done lately that he wasn’t proud of.
Hamish slapped him on the back and placed their orders for drinks. ‘So, let me see if Chris has the story straight. You still haven’t spoken to Morgan and apologised?’
No small talk, no lead-up just...pow! ‘Essentially.’
‘You really are a git, big bro’,’ said Mike, lifting his glass and toasting him. ‘Though admittedly it is nice to see that you have clay feet. But dumping Morgan...’ Mike leaned forward and frowned at him. ‘Did you get punched in the head? In other words, are you freaking insane?’
Noah lifted his hand to protest and saw that Chris had joined his merry group. ‘Thanks,’ he said, sarcastically. ‘Did they need to know?’
‘Sure they need to see their control freak big brother unhinged,’ Chris said on a smile.
‘I am not unhinged,’ Noah said through gritted teeth. Miserable and dejected, but still clear-thinking.
‘Mmm, that’s why you’re the model of efficiency at work. Not.’
‘You talk like a teenage girl,’ Noah muttered.
‘You’re acting like one,’ Chris countered.
‘And I am not unhinged! Unhinged was what I felt like when I saw that knife to her neck. When I contemplated what life would be without her...’ He hadn’t meant to add that.
‘You’re living a life without her,’ Mike pointed out. ‘And how’s that working out for you?’
‘Shut up, Oprah.’
Bloody awful, but the point was... What was the point? All he knew was that he was scared to love her, scared to lose her, and scared to live this half-life without her in it. He just wanted to go back to his life as it had been before he met her, when he’d been heartless and independent and unemotional.
When life had been easy and uncomplicated. It hadn’t quite worked out that way. Yet.
And he really didn’t want to have this conversation with his brothers and Chris. There was nothing wrong, in his opinion, with those old-fashioned men-to-men conversations, where they didn’t discuss emotions at all. But, no, he had to be saddled with three touchy-feely, new age guys who thought it was perfectly reasonable to discuss his broken heart.
‘The least you can do is talk to her,’ Hamish suggested.
‘Back off,’ he growled into his beer.
‘Either that or go to my bothy in the Highlands and lick you wounds in private,’ Chris suggested.
‘Will any of you follow me there and carry on bleating in my ear?’ Noah demanded.
They looked at each other, shook their heads. ‘Not for a day or two at least.’
‘Sold.’ Noah slapped his hands on the bar. It was exactly what he needed: time and solitude to think, recover and relive his time with Morgan.
No, that wasn’t right. To get over Morgan. Because that was what he had to do, the sensible thing to do.
>
* * *
Ten days from that momentous day—the one that had ended with Noah kicking her out of her life—and she was back in Scotland, Morgan thought, her hands on the wheel of the rental car. She was driving in a country halfway across the world.
James had worked out an agreement at the mine that was complicated and confusing, and the details of which she cared absolutely nothing about. What was important was that everyone was thoroughly convinced that the threat to their well-being was neutralised and her mother and father had come out of hiding thoroughly sick of each other. Her father had disappeared on a trip to investigate a mine in Botswana and her mother had started poking her nose into MI business and, more annoyingly, ball business. Situation normal there.
James and Riley were either snipping at each other, ignoring each other or avoiding each other. Situation... She didn’t even know how to categorise their situation...crazy?
The CFT guards—even more robotic than Noah—had gone back to being robotic with someone else and her apartment had become her own again.
Situation so very not normal there.
She hated it. She hated the silence and the fact that there was no one to drink wine with, chat with, curl up around at night, make sweet love to in the morning.
She missed him. With every breath she took. But more than anything else she was so steel-meltingly angry with him that he’d just walked away—because she couldn’t concentrate on a thing and because her stress levels were stratospheric.
She couldn’t design, couldn’t make decisions on the ball, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.
She had a business to run, an important social event to organise, and after she’d given him many, many pieces of her mind she’d put him aside and resume her life—go back to normal. She was not going to beg, to tell him she loved him, adored his body, loved his generous, protective spirit. She wouldn’t tell him that she’d fallen in love with him eight years ago and never really stopped. Dammit.
Morgan felt the familiar cocktail of love and misery and anger churn in her stomach. How dared he throw comments mentioning joy and love at her head and then kick her out of his life? He was the most courageous man she knew except when it came to loving—keeping!—her. Well, she wasn’t just going to lie down and accept it...
Telling him where to get off and that she was worth taking a chance on were the only reasons she was on this godforsaken road in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, probably lost. Again.
Okay, depending on how wretched he was, she might let it slip that she missed him and that she loved him—maybe. Probably.
Morgan yawned and shoved her exhaustion away. She’d landed at Heathrow yesterday, threatened Chris with dismemberment if he didn’t tell her where he was and nearly bitten his head off when he’d offered to take her to the bothy close to Auterlochie. She could find it herself, she’d stated grandly, and now she wished she’d taken him up on his offer. Because this place was desolate, and it was getting dark, and there were scary cows with big horns that glared at her from the side of the road.
As night and the temperature fell Morgan saw the glimmer of a stone cottage off the road and wondered if this could possibly be the bothy Noah sometimes escaped to. There were no lights on in the house, and there wasn’t any sign of the deep green Land Rover Chris said he used up here.
There was only one way to find out, she thought, bunching her much hated map in her hand and storming up to the front door. After knocking and getting no response she found the door opened to her touch, and she looked around a large room: kitchen at one end, lounge at the other. Through the closed door she presumed there was a bedroom and bathroom. There were battered couches, one that held a jersey draped over its arm. Morgan picked it up and sighed when she inhaled Noah’s familiar scent.
The cabin was also ridiculously tidy, and she knew she was in the right place.
She loved him...but she was going to kill him when she saw him. For making her fall in love with him, for making her chase after him, for being a totally stupid, pathetically scared of commitment, moron man.
‘What? Not naked this time?’ Noah said from the doorway.
Morgan dropped the shirt and whipped around. Her heart bounced and then settled as her eyes drifted over him in the half-light of the cottage.
Kill him...slowly...
‘Can you put some lights on?’ Morgan asked politely.
‘Why?’
‘So that I can see your face when I scream at you.’
Morgan blinked as he flicked the switch on the wall next to the door.
Noah walked into the room and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Morgan cocked her head at him and saw that there were blue shadows under his eyes and his mouth looked grim. Tense. Possibly scared.
Good. He should be.
‘You don’t seem very surprised to see me,’ Morgan said.
‘Chris gave me a heads-up that you were on your way but I expected you hours ago. I was out looking for you. What happened? Did you get lost?’
With that comment he lit the fuse to her temper. ‘Of course I got lost, you idiot! Lots and lots of times! I forgot to check if there was a GPS when I hired the car! I have dyslexia and I can’t read a damn map at the best of times. When I’m sad and stressed and heartbroken and miserable and depressed it’s near impossible!’
She scrunched the map into a ball and launched it at his head.
‘Tell me how you really feel, Morgs.’ Noah struggled to keep his grin from forming.
Morgan looked at him, hurt and shocked. ‘You think this is a joke? That the pain you’ve caused me is funny? I’ve been travelling for days so that you can laugh at me?’
Noah scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘No—God, no! Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just amazed that you are here; you nearly missed me. I was going to leave in the morning. I’m really, really happy that you are here.’
Morgan gave him a stony look. ‘Sure you are.. Look, this is stupid. I’m probably very stupid... I’ll just go.’
Noah moved to stand in front of the door. ‘You’re not going anywhere, and you are definitely not driving anywhere in the dark. You might end up in a loch.’
Morgan tried to push him out of the way but she couldn’t move his bulk. ‘You lost the right to tell me what to do, to protect me, when you kicked me out of your life and sicced those CFT agents on me!’
‘I intend to protect you for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.’
Everything in Morgan’s body tensed as she looked up into his gorgeous face. The humour had fled and his eyes were deep and serious and radiating truth. And love. And hope. Her heart lurched.
‘Come and sit down, Morgan. Please.’
Okay, maybe she could just hear him out...just a little. Morgan allowed Noah to take her hand and she perched on the edge of a couch. Noah pulled the battered coffee table closer to the couch and sat on it, facing her.
‘I was—am—happy to see you, When I couldn’t find you...I thought you’d plunged off the road or crashed somewhere. I was considering calling out a search party when I saw your car pull in here. I belted back here, just so relieved that you are okay.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Secondly, I was planning to leave tomorrow. I was going to go home.’
‘Back to London.’
‘Back to you. You are my home, Morgan. You’re the place where I want to be.’ Noah touched her hand with his fingers. ‘I’ve spent the last week trying to convince myself that I’m better on my own, that I can live without you, that I’m independent and a hard-ass and I don’t need anyone. And I don’t need anyone, Morgs. I just need you. I love you. More than I can express and much more than you will ever know,’ he added, his voice saturated with emotion.
‘But you sent me away!’ Morgan’s fist rocketed into h
is shoulder. ‘I loved you, but you sent me away like I was nothing!’
‘I sent you away because you were everything and I was scared.’ Noah gripped her fist and kissed her knuckles. ‘I’m stupid when it comes to you—haven’t you realised that yet? Do you want me to grovel?’
Morgan sniffed as her head and her heart started pounding with the warm fairy dust sparkles of happiness. ‘I can’t imagine you grovelling well.’
‘True.’ Noah kissed her knuckles again and held her eyes. ‘I’m sorry that I acted like a jerk.’
‘I’ve been miserable without you. I can’t do anything without you,’ Morgan grumbled, her fingers on his cheek.
‘I know.’
‘No, you don’t understand. The dyslexia has been really bad—’
‘Babe, it’s not that. I’ve also been less than useless at the office...why do you think Chris sent me up here? I couldn’t think, hold a reasonable conversation, I forgot meetings and stopped midway through my sentences. I couldn’t function without you.’ Noah’s other hand clasped her face and his thumb drifted over her cheekbone. ‘It has nothing to do with the dyslexia and everything to do with the fact that you and I are better together than we are apart.’
‘So it seems.’
‘Do you remember what you said at Bon Chance? Just before I heard about Michael?’
Morgan nodded.
‘I want the whole bang-shoot too—with you. I don’t care how many dyslexic kids we have because they will be our kids and they will be brilliant in their own ways—just as you are. I will never think anything is lacking in you, or them. Yeah, I’ll get frustrated with you—as you will with me—but it will never be caused by your dyslexia. And I will love you, hard, often, passionately, for ever.’
‘Oh, Noah. I love you too.’ But Morgan thought she should issue one more threat before she allowed pure happiness to envelop her. ‘I came here to kick your ass.’
‘I’d much prefer to kiss yours.’ Noah’s curved lips drifted down to hers. Before they touched, he spoke again. ‘I don’t suppose you packed any of those burlesque corsets, did you? I’ve been having a few fantasies about them...’
