Cuff Me at Christmas

by Avery, Lark

  He dipped his head, then opened the front door for me. A frigid gust blew inside, but I put my head down and dove outside.

  The snow had stopped falling and a ring of private cars and taxis waited along the circular driveway.

  Jaime started down the steps with me, taking my arm lightly. Even cleared of snow and ice, the stairs were treacherous in my heels.

  His cell phone rang. He paused. “I’m needed inside.”

  “Thank you for the coat. Go, before you freeze.”

  He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “Safe travels, my Lady.”

  I stared down at his tips. I’d repay him once I got away from here. “Thank you.”

  He hurried back up the steps.

  Pulling the coat closer, I reached the curb, but the first two taxis I approached told me they'd been pre-arranged.

  Great.

  Nice escape. I’d made it all the way to the driveway. I was cold out here to stand around looking for a ride. And I didn’t want Max to notice I was gone.

  Just then, a black Range Rover pulled around the driveway. The passenger window unrolled. “Need a lift?” The man’s Scottish accent was thick. His cap was pulled low over his head. The inside of the car was dark, the interior lights weren’t working.

  I didn’t hesitate. Beggars couldn’t be choosers on Christmas Eve.

  "Yes, please!" I opened the back passenger door and slipped inside. I sagged against the leather seat. I squeezed my eyes shut, lying my head against the headrest.

  The vehicle moved down the drive, gaining speed. A few tears slipped down my cheeks, but I didn't wipe them away. Gylen lit with holiday decorations and covered in fresh snow was imprinted on my mind.

  And Max.

  He’d be pissed when he discovered that I’d left. But he’d also see this was the right thing for us. I’d get back to New York and deal with the stalker. Maybe he’d moved on. If I could be so lucky.

  Suddenly, taking her chances with her stalker seemed less risky than staying so close to Max.

  The vehicle continued to gain speed as we left the estate.

  I had a prickling sensation up my spine that wasn’t from pleasure.

  I opened my eyes. I squinted in the dim light. Was the driver wearing the same plaid that Fergus wore—the Gylen tartan?

  I glanced around the car. This was the one Max picked me up in.

  “Excuse me, would you please slow down? It’s icy out.” My nails pricked my palms.

  “Certainly.” The timber of his Scottish brogue sent shivers down my spine. The only voice that did that was Max’s—

  Leaning forward, I peered at the man in the driver’s seat. His dark curly hair peaked out from under his hat and his profile was one I'd grown to love. A strong nose, thick lashes, and full lips.

  But how could Max be here?

  “Max.” My fingers dug into the seat in front of me. I leaned forward.

  He pulled off his cap, and his lips twisted into a cruel grin as I got my first good look at his face. "Try again."

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  The light white scar under Max’s eye was gone.

  I shook my head; I'd had too much to drink tonight. There was no way Max's scar could be gone.

  He returned his attention to the road. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Are you supposed to be a genius, Lass?”

  He wasn’t Max.

  He was Alistair, Max’s no longer presumed dead twin.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  “You’re Alistair?”

  “The true Duke of Gylen.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  It was official-- my life had become a made for tv movie.

  "Where have you been? Did…? Did you fake your death and hideout? Why the fuck would you do that?"

  He was quiet a minute, frowning. “I was given some bad business advice. My investments didn’t work out.”

  Rage bubbled through me. I thought of everything that Max and his mother had been through thinking this man was dead.

  “Dressing up your gambling debts in a Scottish accent doesn’t make you any less of a shit. Max has been killing himself to save Gylen.”

  “He always wanted the title for himself.”

  "His medical career was all for show then? I don't think so. You can't bullshit a New Yorker." I said flatly. Besides, Max wanted to be working as a physician in New York with me.

  Alistair met my eyes in the review view mirror. "You have a sharp tongue on you, Lass. I'm not quite sure what my brother sees in you. Although having seen the two of you in the hall, I have a good idea."

  Disgust washed over me. “Fuck you.”

  “Would you like that? See how I measure up to my brother?”

  “Gross. Just drop me off, I’ll get a ride to the airport with someone who doesn’t have the last name Ransom.” If I never heard another Scottish accent that would be fine with me. I was so over this whole damned crazy kilt wearing family.

  “I can’t do that, Lass. Not when there’s a stalker after you.”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Alistair faking his own death was crazy but him knowing I had a stalker was creepy. “How do you know that?” My mind reeled. The pieces all falling into place. “It’s you, isn’t you? You’ve been stalking me.” I’d never seen the man who pushed me down, but I thought of the phone message and mail. “Why?”

  “Because I knew stalking you would drive my brother mad with worry.”

  Oh, of all the fucking lousy luck. I ran away from one pain in my ass Ransom brother only to run right into another one. And this one had some serious sibling rivalry issues to work out. Too bad, I hadn’t studied psychiatry. Working in Metropolitan Hospital's Emergency Department, I dealt with plenty of psych issues daily, but none quite like this.

  I turned my head to look out the window. The dark snowy Scottish countryside stretched out before me. Here and there, we passed a cottage, but most were dark. It was midnight on Christmas Eve, most everyone was asleep.

  Alistair probably wasn't going to hurt me, but I feared he was going to hurt Max. I thought hard. I worked in an emergency department and had seen just about every type of injury there was. No way was I going to jump out of a moving car.

  "How did you know about Max and me?"

  “Research,” he said simply. “My brother isn’t the only one who can hire security.”

  I sat back against the seat. My mind spun. Max hired security while I was in New York? That couldn’t be.

  My mind churned and finally landed on the memories of my new apartment, gifted to me from a grateful patient. Grateful patient my ass. That was Max.

  “Motherfucker.” I breathed. I was going to kill him. Who the fuck did he think he was to take over my life like that?

  Alistair's laugh had no warmth. "You figured it out?"

  I seethed. I hated Max Ransom.

  Why?

  There were so many reasons.

  For being in my life.

  For meddling in my life.

  For making me his.

  For making me fall in love with him.

  “When Max finds out where I am, he’s going to kill you.”

  “I’m counting on him trying.” The timber of Alistair’s voice was so similar to Max’s it was eerie.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Yeah. Not the answer I wanted. I leaned my forehead against my window. With the clear night, the moonlight shone down on top of the fresh snow. Even being kidnapped didn't change how beautiful the still night was.

  Not a soul was out except some idiot driving a sleigh.

  I peered closer. Said idiot wore a hat, and his coat flapped around him. He looked damn good in his kilt as he raced across the open field on a course to intersect with us.

  I exhaled, relief flooding my body at the sight of him.

  “Max.”

  9

  Max

  I lit the damn Christmas tree, then as the champagne
corks popped, I moved to the ballroom.

  Jess wasn't there.

  I raced upstairs to my room. She wasn't there either, but I was relieved to find all her things were still there.

  I dragged a calming breath into my lungs. She wouldn’t do anything drastic. She was too smart for that.

  I checked the study and all her usual haunts.

  Nothing.

  Anxiety balled in the pit of my stomach.

  The front hall was filling with exiting guests.

  “Have you seen Jess?” I interrupted my mother’s farewell to some guests.

  My mother’s worried expression said it all. She wasn’t a worrier.

  Fuck.

  “Jaime saw her get in a car. And she gave him this.” She handed me a Gylen badge that had been ripped.

  No. No. No.

  That couldn’t be right.

  I turned around and raced to the study.

  “Running away won’t solve anything.” Her words trailed after me.

  In my study, I rummaged around the various drawers in the wooden desk.

  Where the fuck was my cell phone?

  With Jess around, I'd taken to leaving it in the study. I didn't need to be constantly checking it for updates from New York.

  There it was. I pulled it out, squinting. Shame flooded me as I checked my GPS app.

  I'd slid a GPS tracking device, no bigger than a paper clip, into the liner of the coat before I’d given it to Jess. I hadn't been proud that I'd done it, but I couldn't stop myself. Knowing she was being stalked in New York made me powerless and a little crazy.

  By the time I returned to the front hall, staring at the phone screen all the way, the clock had struck twelve. The hall was jammed with guests who’d had too much to drink wishing each other Merry Christmas. I ignored the slaps on my back and untangled myself from more than one sloppy kiss to push through to the front door.

  I hadn't figure out how to make her stay, but I wasn't letting her out of my life again.

  In my hand, the phone displayed her location and I stopped. According to it, she was still at Gylen. That couldn’t be right.

  Unless she didn’t have the coat.

  I slammed my fist against a hall table, upsetting a trio of glass ornaments. They smashed to the stone floor and shattered into fragments.

  She had gotten a ride from one of the cars waiting for guests. That meant whoever it was would be local. They wouldn’t be driving her to Edinburgh’s airport at least.

  “Ransom! Where are you going?” My mother called to me across a group of embracing couples.

  “Jess left. I’m going after her.”

  “Wait for me,” she called.

  I shook my head, turning away. I needed to do this myself.

  “Wait!” She broke through the couples to grab my arm. “Fergus swears he saw Alistair outside earlier. Be careful, Max.”

  Alistair? My dead twin?

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Suddenly it all made perfect sense. His skydiving trip over the Amazon, the estate's financial troubles, and Jess having a stalker in New York. They weren't random events.

  My not-so-dead brother was behind the scene pulling strings.

  I checked the garage for my Rover. It was gone. I pulled up my GPS on my phone. My vehicle was moving at a decent clip away from Gylen. No doubt with Jess in it with my brother. Of course, my brother knew Gylen and all the security codes; I never changed them after this death.

  Which was fucking stupid.

  I didn't like any of it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tolerate him anywhere near Jess. Not only was she innocent, she was also mine.

  Back in the house, I found my mother after I pushed my way through the crowd.

  Out front, I glanced around our circular front drive jammed with cars. Off to the side, Fergus had the sleigh hooked up and was feeding carrots to the horses.

  “What’s Fergus doing?” I asked my mother.

  "He uses the sleigh to take neighbors home that are too tipsy to drive. But really, darling, I don't think Alistair has her in a sled. He hates horses."

  "He's in my Rover, but I'm going after them in the sleigh. It'll be faster than waiting for this lot to clear out. Wish me luck, mother." I gave her cheek a kiss as I sped off. I looked back once to see her watching me. She gave me an uncharacteristic thumbs up before guests crowded in front of her.

  I dashed around the parked cars, avoiding doors opening and slamming.

  “Fergus!” I called. “Give the reins to me!”

  The elderly man turned, surprised no doubt to see me sliding through the snow in my kilt and evening wear.

  “Your Grace! What’s the matter?” He’d run out of carrots and one of the horses nudged him with her head.

  I slid, regained my balance, and careened towards him.

  “Did you see my brother tonight?”

  "I swear I did, and I wasn't tippling. But it can't be true."

  I clapped him on the shoulder, partly to reassure him and partly to stabilize myself. "I believe you. If anyone were going to come back from the dead, it'd be my brother." I swore again. "He's got, Jess. I can get to them, but the sleigh will be faster than the roads right now. Now lend me your coat."

  Fergus shrugged out of his coat, and I slipped the cell phone in the front pocket.

  “Let me take you, Your Grace. I’ve been driving this long before you were in short pants.”

  "Fergus, this is between my brother and me. Go inside and stay with my mother, will you? It's been an eventful night for her."

  I'd long suspected Fergus had cared for my mother. It wasn't a surprise. He'd worked at our family home for decades. But I had no idea about how my mother's feelings. She had refused to date after my father died. She'd insisted that keeping Gylen going was all she cared about. Now I looked at the older man's bright eyes and wondered where my mother disappeared for hours every day. I'd never given it a moment's thought before.

  And it wasn’t something I was going to ponder now.

  I swung up easily in the sleigh driver's seat.

  Fergus handed me the reins and his gloves. "Careful now. There are patches of ice on some of the snow."

  I clicked my tongue, shifting the horses' attention from Fergus and his pockets of carrots to me.

  I’d not driven the sleigh since I was a boy and would go with the groundskeepers every year to help cut down the Christmas tree and haul it back to the house. But it was pretty much like riding a bike.

  Fergus had taught me everything he knew about horses. I handled them lightly, and soon we were off, leaving the castle behind us to cut across the fields. I glanced back once at Gylen, which was brightly lit against the night sky.

  The snow had stopped falling, and the night was cold and clear. Away from the castle lights, stars covered the dark sky and added to the sensation that my world had been turned upside and shaken like a snow globe.

  I pulled the phone from my pocket. I planned to cut Alistair off before he reached the main road.

  And there they were.

  I cursed myself for not changing the codes that allowed Alistair to access the garage. God only knew where else he’d been and what mischief he’d cooked up.

  The horses' hooves pounded through the fresh snow. With only one passenger, we flew across the fields.

  I didn’t feel the cold.

  I was fueled with anger at Alistair and fear for Jess. And something else, something more significant than the first two.

  It wasn't only the bone-crushing desire that I felt for Jess.

  I loved her brains, her humor, her body---every bit of her. Especially the part that stood up to me. It wouldn’t be easy to convince her to let me love her.

  But first, I was going to beat the shit out of my brother for scaring her.

  As I pulled the sleigh alongside my Range Rover, my brother glanced over at me. His grin was sly. The motherfucker was alive, all right, and he was enjoying this little game.

  Alistair co
uld've outrun the sleigh easily in the Rover, but he wanted me to catch up to them.

  I signaled for him to pull over to the side of the road, then dropped back to give him room.

  I slowed the horses; more than one tossed its' head back, protesting our decreased pace.

  After I stopped the sleigh, I tied their reins to a nearby tree and approached the car. The windows were all tinted, but in the backseat, Jess was tapping on the glass and calling my name.

  My heart went out to her.

  "I want to see her now," I said by way of greeting to my twin, who had unrolled his window a few inches. Too little space to smash my fist in his face.

  Alistair's face was thinner than the last time I'd seen him. Flecks of gray at his temples made him look older too.

  "Good to see you, too, Max. As the duke of Gylen, you should work on your manners."

  “Fuck you, Alistair. Let me see her. If you hurt her—”

  “I’m a gentleman; I would never harm a woman.”

  "What you are is an asshole. You ran this estate to the edge of ruin, and then faked your own death to escape the consequences. Do you know how much pain you caused our mother?"

  Alistair shrugged. “She always liked you best anyway.”

  "You’ve crossed the line with Jess." I tried the driver's door; it was locked. "Jess, are you ok?" I cupped my hands to peer through the shaded window.

  “I’m unharmed. Be careful, Max.”

  Alistair exited the vehicle. In a heavy coat and boots, he was dressed for the weather.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “To settle this.” Alistair flexed his fingers in his gloves.

  “You want to fight?” I shook my head, thinking I’d misheard him.

  “Winner takes all.”

  We started circling each other.

  "What the fuck are you two doing?" Not surprisingly, Jess had not waited in the car. She was standing in the snow in her flimsy dress and her heels. Jaime's coat hung loosely around her even as she hugged it to her body. She was shivering.

  “Where’s your tartan?” I called to her harshly.

  Wait a minute. Pulling up, a let my arms fall to my sides.

  “I’m not one of your possessions!” she cried sharply.

  What was I doing? Alistair’s return provided me the solution I craved. Glyn was his responsibility, not mine. Whatever he did with it wasn’t my problem.