The Last MacKlenna

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  “Probably not,” he said.

  “Good.” She dropped her hand. “Now, let’s schedule the surgery for the eighteenth or nineteenth. Anticipating this outcome, I have an appointment with my plastic surgeon next. Her office can coordinate with yours.” Meredith stood, holding the back of the chair until her legs grew steady. “Your invitation to the launch has been mailed. I hope you’ll come.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, walking her to the door. “If you change your mind and decide to have surgery earlier, I’ll work you into the schedule.”

  She shivered slightly. “I won’t change my mind.”

  The walk to the plastic surgeon’s office in the adjoining building was short and bittersweet. Unlike five years ago, she knew what to expect. The cold and dreary day matched her somber mood perfectly. Not even the winery’s sweet Harvest Riesling could bring about a smile. Then her lip turned up slightly. Maybe a taste of wine couldn’t, but a soft lingering kiss from Elliott . . . She sighed, cupping the side of her face. Yes, his lips could do what even sweet wine could not. Although some tension eased from her body, it held steady at a higher than normal level.

  She pushed open the door and walked inside the doctor’s calm yellow-tinted office with paintings and fixtures in various shades of blue and green—friendly and welcoming. But, for Meredith, not at all relaxing. She knew months of procedures awaited her. Why hadn’t she had both breasts done at the same time? Of course, she knew the answer. The procedure wasn’t recommended, and she wouldn’t have agreed if it had been.

  An hour later, after an exam and photographs, she sat across the table from a gentle and kind professional, everything she wanted in a doctor who would mold her left side into a sphere of mammary perfection.

  “You can only have one TRAM-flap, so that option isn’t available this time, but we can do a latissimus dorsi flap. That will move fat, muscle, and blood vessels from—”

  “No,” Meredith said, “That will weaken my shoulder and back. I can’t do that.”

  “Then we’ll have to go with the tissue expander and silicone implant.”

  She knew her options going in and had already decided what she wanted. “What dates do you have open after February sixteenth?”

  “I can work you in sooner.”

  “I have commitments through the sixteenth. Can your staff work with my surgeon’s people to find a suitable date after that?”

  The doctor removed her glasses, held the end pieces between her index fingers and thumbs, and rocked the glasses back and forth. “It’s not in your best interest to put this off. You know that.”

  Five years ago, she’d been naïve and uninformed and had let her doctors make decisions based on what they thought was best for her. This time, however, her treatment would be different, because she was different. She’d be her own advocate and make decisions in concert with her doctors or as, in this case, bulldoze the opposition until they came into alignment with her conditions.

  She stood and extended her hand, much as she’d done with the surgeon. The gnawing in her stomach would send her to a gastroenterologist next. Getting through the doctor appointments would go a long way in reducing the stress, but she still had a confession to make to Elliott.

  “You’re the best plastic surgeon in California, and I’m relieved you can fit me in. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  She exited the yellow office, and for the next four days, she’d shut the door on her cancer.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  MacKlenna Mansion, Lexington – December 30

  AT FOUR O’CLOCK that afternoon, Meredith’s plane touched down at Lexington’s Bluegrass Airport. Elliott had told her that unless her arrival coincided with his release from the hospital, he wouldn’t be there to greet her. When she exited the plane, she found David waiting at the bottom of the steps. She tightened a coat of disappointment around her.

  “Is he still in the hospital?”

  David’s breath condensed in the cold air. “We just got him settled in at the farm. He’s waiting for ye’.”

  Meredith climbed down the stairs. “How’s he feeling?”

  “When I left the house, he was singing.”

  Christmas Eve was the only time she’d heard his Rod Stewart-esque, raspy singing voice. “He’s multi-talented.”

  David took her bag. “Let me carry this. It’s a wee bit icy out here.”

  She laced her arm through his and summoned up a smile. “I’m glad I live in Napa. It’s rare to have snow.”

  “A few days of this has rejiggled my memory. Made me wish for the desert again”

  She squeezed his arm. “Cold weather is much better than a battlefield.”

  “Aye. A wee house here is safer.” He glanced at her with his keen eyes. “D’ye’ feel weel? Ye’ look a wee bit tired.”

  She was tired and worried and her breast hurt, but she’d keep that to herself. “I worked during the flight. I should have taken a nap.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the plane. “I brought several cases of wine, but I don’t think they’ll fit in the car.”

  “Jake has two men on their way to offload the wine, but I’ll get yer luggage.”

  “I have everything I need in the bag you’re carrying. They can bring my luggage with the wine.”

  He guided her in the direction of Elliott’s vehicle. “If you’re ready, then, we’ll be off.” He opened the back door, and she climbed into the Mercedes.

  “How long is Elliott’s list of restrictions?” she asked.

  David glanced in the rearview mirror. “There’s just one. He can’t walk with or without crutches.”

  “So he’s spearheading the party from a wheelchair.”

  “He’s being secretive about his weekend plans. But as long as he doesn’t walk, I’ll leave him alone.”

  Meredith opened her compact and checked the lipstick she applied before landing. “So that’s my job. To keep him off his feet.”

  David turned right onto Versailles Road at the Keeneland intersection. “If anyone can do that, you can.”

  She shook her head, laughing. “I don’t deserve that confidence. I’m a new inner circle recruit.”

  “Well, speaking for the rest of the members, you’re a welcome addition.”

  A temporary addition.

  They drove past Calumet Farm’s pastures encased in white-plank fencing. Red-trimmed, white barns sat atop rolling hills. “You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful entrance into Lexington.”

  “Dr. Fraser could arrange a tour, if you’re interested.”

  She took one last look as they merged onto New Circle Road. “I haven’t seen all of MacKlenna Farm yet, and it’s what, a hundred years older than Calumet?”

  “Kentucky history isn’t my forte,” David said.

  Your forte probably involves guns and remote locations that need satellite phones. “Elliott said he has friends coming from Scotland for the weekend. Is Evelyn coming?”

  “She’ll arrive in the morning,” David said.

  “I’m sure Louise will be happy to see her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Meredith sent Elliott a text. On New Circle Road. Should I ask David to speed? A one-word answer came back. Yes. Tingles of anticipation battled anxiety for domination. What reaction would he have to her revelation? Louise’s comments gave her little hope for a positive outcome. What if she didn’t tell him? In the dark, he hadn’t noticed her scars. If they kept the lights down, maybe . . .

  David entered the farm through a different entrance than she’d used during her previous visit. “I haven’t been this way.”

  “Dr. Fraser moved into the cottage for the weekend. It’s a short walk from the mansion.”

  Elliott hadn’t said anything about moving, but a couple of days in a quaint cottage sounded intriguing. David stopped in front of a two-story, white-bricked, Neo-Classical residence. “If this is a cottage, Kentucky has a unique dictionary.” She’d never seen one with columns, a slate roof, copp
er gutters, and balustrade-topped side porches.

  “The original frame house was demolished in the 1930s. When they rebuilt the house, they kept the name. Dr. Fraser lived here for thirty years until he begrudgingly moved into the mansion a couple of months ago.”

  David opened her door, and she climbed out. “Elliott requested privacy, so I’ll let you go in by yourself. His bedroom is on the main floor. Follow the hall, turn left. You’ll probably hear him singing.”

  She lightly squeezed David’s arm. “If he misbehaves, I’ll call you. Where will you be?”

  “At the mansion. I can be here in sixty seconds.”

  “Where’s Kevin?”

  “Inside.” David removed his aviators and leveled his intense dark brown eyes at her. “The lad’s discreet. You won’t know he’s there unless you need him. If you’ll leave your phone on the table by the door, he’ll notify you if you receive an urgent call.”

  “Leave my phone?”

  “Just until dinner. Dr. Fraser gave up his phone, too, and put a hold on all calls into the residence. He didn’t want your reunion interrupted.”

  Reunion? A portion of her anxiety vanished with a deep exhale.

  “We’re all glad you’re back, Ms. Montgomery.”

  The spicy fragrance of the outdoors that she had come to identify with Elliott wafted over her as soon as she crossed the threshold and entered a rich-red-wine and beige colored entry hall. She inhaled deeply, letting the scent tease her lungs. Then, from somewhere in the house came his breathy singing.

  “By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond.” If possible, the words and tune brought out more of the original flavor of his brogue. The sound danced across her heart, alive and vibrant.

  “Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae, on the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.”

  She left her phone on the table and followed the Pied Piper through the foyer, past a grand staircase hugging the wall, and down a wide, well-lit hallway lined with paintings of old Scottish castles. If she stopped to study one, she’d want to study them all. Right now, all she wanted was Elliott’s enticing mouth-watering promise of epicurean pleasure.

  “Oh! Ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye . . .”

  The walls of the master suite matched the color of the waters of Loch Lomond, and she wanted to jump naked into the clear, cool lake. A massive, century-old, four-poster bed stood as the focal point of the room. Until she spotted Elliott, reclining with his hands stacked behind his head, wearing a black sweater and a pair of khakis, a walking boot, socks but no shoes. Her breath—and her heart—stopped, caught in another magical moment.

  “But me and my true love will never meet again . . .”

  Breathless, she patted her chest to jump-start her heart, and she joined him on the chorus. “On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.”

  Smiling, he raised himself up on his elbows. “Don’t make me wait another second to hold you.”

  She pitched her bag and hurried to his side. “Are you sure you just got out of the hospital?”

  He pressed his lips against hers, encircled her with arms that belied his weakened condition, and pulled her close. The scent of balsam and cedar, clean and delicious, tickled her nose, and she tasted cinnamon tea on his tongue, different for him, yet highly erotic. The flavors and scents created a boutique cocktail that teased her senses. He slid his hand beneath her sweater and cupped her breast, sending confusing signals to her brain. She wanted him to touch her but feared his possible reaction.

  “You’re shivering. Do you want me to turn up the heat?” he asked.

  “I think you are.”

  He nipped at her chin and throat, turning her skin into kindling for the wild fire he set with only a kiss, an accelerant more powerful than anything on the market. “What restrictions do we have?”

  “I can’t use my right leg at all.” He dragged his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. “I can’t even put weight on my knee.”

  “Sounds like we need to be creative.”

  The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds. There wasn’t a lot of light but enough that he would notice her faded scars and nipple. It was no longer a question of whether or not to tell him but how to start the conversation.

  She took a deep breath and slipped her sweater over her head. Her breasts spilled from the underwire cups of a leopard-print, lace-trim cami. Panic eased up to her throat.

  “God, you’re gorgeous.” His fingertips glided across her cleavage. He slipped the straps off her shoulders. His right carotid artery pulsed noticeably. He wanted her, of that she had no doubt. But would he still once he knew the truth?

  Panic now cut off her breath.

  He pulled down the cami, freeing her breasts.

  She swallowed hard, waiting for words that wouldn’t come.

  He cocked his head, studying her. “What’s with the bandages?”

  She placed her fingers over the two Band-Aids covering the biopsy and lumpectomy incisions. “I had two moles snipped off yesterday. My breast is a little sore.” She avoided his eyes. “It’s nothing.” She prayed for courage to tell him about her first mastectomy.

  “What’s wrong, Mer? You look like you’re about to cry.”

  Just say it. “I had cancer five years ago. They took my breast.” I have it again, but I don’t want to talk about that.

  The color left his cheeks. He looked at her breasts first one way and then the other. “They left you a wee nice one in its place.” He ran his finger around her nipple. “Your surgeon’s an expert. I would have figured it out, but your breasts are perfect.” He cupped her left breast. “Do you have an implant in this one?” He massaged her. “I don’t feel one.”

  “That side is all me.”

  “That’s why a wee mole would concern you.”

  Mole?

  He massaged her right breast. “This one is as soft and natural as the other.” He sucked the nipple into his mouth. When he released her, he wore a crooked smile that worked in concert with his mischievous eyes.

  “It doesn’t disgust you?” she asked.

  “Disgust me? I’m the one with scars from here to there. Never. Your scars are noble. You fought a horrible disease and beat it.” He kissed her breast again and then ran the tip of his finger around the areola and across the faded scars. “I made love to you and didn’t know.”

  “I should have told you, but I—”

  He pressed his hand over her lips. “You didn’t have to tell me. I would have figured it out, but it doesn’t matter.” He cupped both breasts, gently skimming his fingers around them. “I’ll be careful. I’m sure this side is a wee bit sore.”

  Her nipple grew taut from his attention, and sensations rippled through her, jumbling her thought processes.

  “It’s all behind you. Five years. You beat the odds.” His voice, warm with affection, caressed her. She shivered, and he pulled her close. “Talking about it probably brings up bad memories.”

  “I had a difficult time.”

  Elliott stilled. “That’s why you haven’t had sex. Isn’t it?” He held her gaze.

  An incredible weight lifted from her, and she grew tempted to tell him she had cancer again, but she couldn’t. It would interject uncertainty into their fragile relationship. His lips touched hers in a firm, possessive kiss, and he told her with his mouth that she wasn’t damaged goods to him.

  “Now, would you please take off the rest of your clothes?”

  She stripped in a slow tease. Her slacks whispered as they settled onto the floor. For the first time in five years, she stood in front of a man unashamed. She leaned over and kissed him. “Help me take your clothes off.”

  He yanked off his sweater, unbuckled his pants, and pushed one-legged trousers down over his hips. The boxer briefs followed. His erection lay flat against his abdomen. He jerked open the drawer to the bedside table, grabbed a cond
om, tore open the wrapper, and rolled it down his penis.

  “Come here.”

  Drunk on relief, she eagerly lowered on to him until he filled her.

  Elliott let out a deep, ragged groan.

  A groan slipped through her lips, too. She tip-toed her fingers through the smattering of chest hair. Corded muscles that defined his chest rippled beneath her touch.

  “You’re in control. Take it fast, slow, whatever feels good for you. Watching you is a fantasy come true.”

  A vixen took possession of her body, and she ground against him. “When’d you first have this fantasy?”

  His eyes brightened with laughter. “When you walked into the library. Didn’t you notice my hand shake when I poured your drink?” His erection twitched inside her, stroked her inner walls, and waves of pleasure tickled her spine. She pushed up on her knees and then slid back down him, slowly, causing him to pull air through his teeth. “Jeez, Mer. Keep that up, and I won’t last long.”

  “You gave me a slow once-over and pretty much telegraphed what you wanted. What do you want now?” She squeezed and ground her pelvis against him. The air around them crackled.

  “I’m just along for the ride,” he said, his voice deep and husky. He grabbed her hips and tugged her even closer.

  She leaned forward and dangled her breasts above him. “I don’t want to feed your ego, Fraser, but I’ve never felt like this.” He nipped her nipple with his teeth.

  “Ouch.”

  His lip twitched as he fought back a smile. “I just wanted to be sure I had the right one.”

  After all the anxiety she’d experienced, that one statement washed it away. “Kiss me.”

  He cupped the sides of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her. Then, in a flash, he rolled over, pinning her beneath him. He jerked, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he yelled, “Damn.”

  She came up quickly on her elbows. “What happened?”

  He rolled off, broke out in a cold sweat, and let out a pain-filled growl. “I forgot,” he said, hissing.

  “Kevin.” Meredith yelled. She then grabbed the blanket folded over the end of the bed and covered up before he ran into the room.