A Stormy Spring

by MacKenzie, C. C.

  ‘I’m coming in with you and you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on and we’re going to try and make some sort of sense out of all this. Okay?’

  ‘What about the babies?’

  ‘The babies will be perfectly fine with their daddy and Lucas. Your needs are greater.’

  They got out the car and Becca opened the door of the annexe and shrugged off her coat.

  Bronte went over to the jazzy stainless steel log burner hanging from the cavernous ceiling and added another couple of logs before she turned to Becca.

  ‘Sit down before you fall down and I’ll make us tea. I’ll order a selection of sandwiches and cakes from The Hall. We need sugar.’

  When she sat down on the long couch opposite Becca with tea and plates of sandwiches and cakes on the table between them, Bronte’s vivid green eyes met hers.

  ‘Hit me with it. Start right at the beginning. Miss nothing out. If things get complicated we’ll call in re-enforcements. Rosie’s brilliant at cutting straight to the chase.’

  Becca told her.

  Actually it helped enormously to verbalise what had happened to her in the last four months.

  Bronte didn’t speak but did shed a few tears with her. And Becca realised that sharing an issue seemed to make it appear more manageable.

  ‘I could kill him. Why couldn’t he leave well alone? I’d finished with Justin. I’d even helped Tabitha Hersheson see the light. Not that she needed much persuading. Apparently I’m the only one with blinkers on in my relationship with Justin.’ She sighed and picked up her Smartphone. ‘I need to call his parents.’

  ‘You do that and I’ll sit here.’

  ‘I feel awful that you’ve had to leave your home and family to be with me.’

  Bronte waved away the objection. ‘You need me here. I’ll phone Nico and tell him I’m staying the night.’

  In spite of all protestations, Bronte would not be moved.

  Becca spoke to Justin’s father who was indeed desperate. He told her things that helped her make some sort of sense of Justin’s extreme behaviour. He’d been bi-polar since his late teens and hidden it too well. There was no doubt in his father’s mind his son was in a manic phase, if not actually in the throes of a psychotic break.

  Bronte and Becca hit the phones.

  By the time they eventually came off the phone hours later, Becca had organised a lawyer in the United States via Bronte’s father Carl Terlezki who made things happen at warp speed. The American lawyer he found for Becca promised that Justin would receive immediate attention from a psychiatric practitioner.

  All this was going to cost serious money, but Carl put up the retainer and Becca was going to pay him back as soon as the bank opened. She had plenty of money sitting there doing nothing and she was happy to help. Poor Justin’s parents were in pieces and Becca promised to get them to their son. She explained her medical situation which meant she couldn’t fly assuring them she’d have gone with them if she could.

  There wasn’t anything more she could do tonight.

  Lucas had phoned but she refused to speak to him.

  ‘God, I could do with a stiff drink.’ Becca told Bronte as she slumped back into the couch.

  ‘I think you could have half a glass of wine. Do you have a headache?’

  Becca shook her head. ‘Strangely enough, I feel fine.’

  ‘I think we’ll risk it.’

  They sat lost in their own thoughts as they sipped a full bodied red.

  Bronte stared unseeing into the glowing wood smouldering in the log burner.

  ‘I was attacked in my home by a guy I’d had a blind date with weeks earlier. He’d been stalking me. If Nico hadn’t arrived... well...’

  Becca went white. ‘Did he...?’

  Bronte shook her head. ‘No. But he would have raped me. I was unconscious by the time Nico found me. He tried to escape but Nico broke his kneecap. He’ll never have full use of the leg again. And I’m not sorry. I used to feel guilty because we learned later he was sick too. Drugs.’

  ‘I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something.’

  ‘We’re married, or in your case nearly married, to men who will not stand idly by and let the one they love be hurt. It’s hard-wired into their DNA to be overprotective and I’m not saying that because they’re Latin. It wouldn’t matter if they were from Mars they would still be the same. My father is cut from the same cloth.

  ‘I put good money on it that when Lucas found you in the shower it scared the bejesus out of him. He’d have felt totally helpless and guilty that he hadn’t been there to protect and care for you. Don’t forget it happened in his home, on his territory. No way would he turn away from that.

  ‘Nico and Lucas are highly successful alpha males who’ve fought hard for everything they have in life. In business I know neither takes any prisoners. All I’m saying is that this shouldn’t be enough to derail your love.’

  Shocked, Becca stared at her. ‘It hasn’t derailed my love for him. I could kill him for keeping secrets, but of course I still love him.’

  Bronte continued as if she’d never spoken. ‘Lucas did it for the best of reasons in my humble opinion. You might not like how he did it, how he kept you out of the loop and didn’t discuss it with you. But these men are like that. They want us itty bitty women to stay nice and safe in the kitchen while they beat their strong manly chests with their fists and go out and slay anything that threatens us.’

  Becca found herself grinning at the picture and knew intellectually that Bronte was perfectly correct.

  ‘This is not going to derail my love for him. However, I am still totally pissed off with the big gorilla.’

  Bronte grinned and stood. ‘Fair enough. Can I call home and tell the big gorilla to get his cute backside over here?’

  Becca rose and moved to Bronte to give her a big hug. ‘I don’t how I’ll ever be able to repay you for everything you’ve done.’

  ‘No repayment necessary. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. And I mean that in a good way.’ Bronte stretched and yawned hugely. ‘Life is never dull around you guys and I thought Nico and I started off with nothing but drama!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Lucas parked outside the annexe, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  He had no idea what he was walking into.

  Bronte had told him nothing.

  The beautiful blonde had simply patted his cheek, gave him a kiss and walked away.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Nico had waved him bye bye and closed the door in his face.

  Which was fair enough. The man wanted his wife back, his life back.

  Thank goodness Becca hadn’t insisted he stay away.

  He couldn’t have borne it.

  Nico had managed to organise the smooth extraction of Marcus and Imogen out of the United States on a private jet and onto an island with an exclusive villa owned by the Ferranti Group. Tobin was fielding the American and British press.

  Margo was dealing with the small amount of enquiries about Becca. Everything was under control. Justin was in jail where he belonged and Lucas hoped he stayed there for a very long time.

  He didn’t care if they threw away the fucking key.

  Of course there was the court case to get Becca through, but hopefully she would be too busy with their babies to worry about that.

  So why didn’t he feel on top of the world?

  He’d never forget the look of horror on her face or the fact that he was responsible for putting it there as she’d watched the news unfold on the screen. He’d no idea when the FBI was going to arrest Justin. But he’d known it would hit Becca hard. Christ, he’d hardly been able to believe it himself when Tobin had told him that Marcus had confessed to him when drunk out of his skull that he’d had sex with a British guy, a dancer and choreographer who was blackmailing him. When Tobin had winkled out Justin’s name Lucas knew he had the bastard.

  It had tak
en weeks of delicate negotiations to persuade Marcus to bring in the authorities. And Lucas himself had not been above using every persuasive power he possessed to bring the thing to what he truly believed was the logical conclusion.

  Would he have done it if Justin hadn’t hurt Becca so badly? He’d like to think he would, but how could he possibly know that for sure?

  His conscience was clear.

  Becca might be upset at the moment, but once she’d calmed down, she’d realise that he’d done the world a favour.

  Justin Cope was where he belonged and out of their lives.

  Result.

  Becca watched the love of her life open the door and step into the room.

  She’d just come off the phone with Justin’s American lawyer who promised to email her when the psychiatrist had reported on Justin. Sitting relaxed on the sofa, she was surrounded with papers full of notes of telephone numbers and other pertinent information.

  Lucas didn’t look particularly worried until he clocked the paperwork and frowned. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on a chair before moving to the bottle of red wine and pouring himself a large glass. He eyed the splash of wine in the glass in her hand but said nothing. Just as well because she’d have thrown it at his gorgeous head.

  He sat opposite and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked badly in need of a shave. And Becca wished yet again that merely looking at him didn’t squeeze the breath from her lungs. Her heart did the jumpy dance it always did when she was in the vicinity of his raw masculinity.

  What she wanted to do more than anything in the world was crawl into his lap and hold him tight. But he wasn’t going to get away with keeping secrets from her. He needed to be taught a salutary lesson in being a couple and what it meant. It meant sharing everything and not simply what he wanted her know.

  Lucas was studying her carefully and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his devious mind.

  His dark eyes slid to the papers next to her.

  He took a sip of wine, eyeing her over the rim of the glass.

  ‘What are you doing, querida?’

  She tucked her legs under her and gave a fat ivory cushion a tight hug.

  Her Smartphone pinged and vibrated and she scrolled through the messages. He frowned. Ahh, he didn’t like being kept in the dark, did he? Welcome to my world, Lucas.

  ‘I’m checking my emails.’

  ‘Who is emailing you at this time of night?’

  ‘Justin’s American lawyer.’

  He choked and grabbed a napkin from the remains of the sandwiches on the coffee table.

  Blinking rapidly, Lucas wiped his eyes and took a breath.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Do not take that tone with me.’

  ‘How do you know his lawyer?’ The tone didn’t change but she let it go for the moment.

  ‘Of course I know his lawyer. I appointed him.’

  His tongue ran over his top teeth, a sure sign of an imminent loss of temper.

  She beaned him with a warning look and continued, ‘I spoke to Justin’s parents this evening. It appears Justin has been treated for bi-polar since his teens. His father is almost certain, and so am I, that by his erratic behaviour, he’s in the middle of a manic phase. Possibly having a psychotic break. Therefore I have appointed a lawyer. A psychiatrist is due to visit Justin in custody in...’ she checked her watch. ‘In about an hour. Bronte and I have been very busy. Her father is Carl Terlezki, the financier. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?’ Lucas nodded, never taking his dark eyes from her face. ‘Carl organised everything for me. He’s paid the retainer to the lawyer on my behalf and I’m paying him back when the bank opens. Justin’s parents are leaving on the first available flight to be with their son. They are, as you might expect, devastated. I am very close to them. Helping is the least I can do.’

  She sipped her wine and kept her eyes on his.

  With care Lucas placed his glass on the coffee table.

  Then he closed his eyes, tunnelled his fingers through his hair twice and ran a hand over his jaw before simply staring at her.

  ‘I do not know what to say to you, querida.’

  ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all night. Because I have plenty to say to you.’

  What she was about to say would help build the foundation of how their relationship would progress going forward. He was sitting there looking at her as if she was about to walk out the door. And she realised he wasn’t secure in her love for him. He still thought he wasn’t quite good enough or that she’d loved Rick more than she could ever love him. Silly, silly man.

  ‘I totally get why you did it. And to be honest if the shoe was on the other foot and a similar thing had happened to you I’d have done the same thing.’ His eyes went wide and he started to rise. But she held up her hand. ‘Except, and this is where we differ, I would have discussed it with you first. I would have treated you like the adult you are and talked the entire thing through. You didn’t do that with me. And it’s not the first time. You like drip-feeding information to me when and if you decide I need to know something. Well, that is simply not good enough, Lucas.’

  He frowned down at his clasped hands as what she said soaked into that stubborn brain.

  Dark eyes filled with confused hope searched hers.

  ‘You are not leaving me? Cancelling our marriage?’

  She leaned back and simply stared at him until heat burned those fabulous cheekbones.

  He was embarrassed? About time.

  ‘How bloody insulting is that? You think I’m going to walk out on you because I am pissed off with you? When have I ever been less than honest with you?’

  He cleared his throat and his brow creased as he studied his hands.

  ‘Never,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’ She had but she wanted him to wiggle on her hook for a little bit longer. It was bad of her but she couldn’t help it.

  He looked at her now. Those dark eyes went all intense and brooding.

  ‘I said never.’

  She rose and stretched with a huge yawn. God she was shattered.

  ‘Okay. I’m going up to have a bath and then collapse into bed. If you want to scrub my back you’re more than welcome.’

  With that she turned and walked away.

  She got as far as the hallway before he caught her.

  He turned her in his arms before backing her up against the wall, his hands slapped the wall either side of her head. And Becca had a distinct feeling of déjà vu. The look in his eye reminded her forcibly of that first morning after the amazing night in the hotel when she’d really bounced his brain and did a pretty good job of bouncing her own brain to hell and back too.

  ‘That is it? We are past this?’

  She patted his darling cheek and fluttered her eyelashes.

  ‘Yes. I’m too tired to fight with you. I’ve done all I can. I’ve promised to help his parents. My conscience is clear. That’s it.’

  His forehead touched hers.

  ‘You humble me, querida.’ His deep voice vibrated through her and she wrapped her arms around him lifting her face for his kiss.

  ‘Good. I like it when you’re humble,’ she said when she came up for air. ‘Are you going to stand in the hall talking all night or can we get to bed?’

  He scooped her up in his arms and she rolled her eyes to heaven.

  ‘I might’ve known it, the Neanderthal strikes again.’ But she wrapped her arms around his neck and nibbled a path around his rough jaw line.

  There was definitely something to be said about cavemen.

  She lay in the big white bath in the shape of an egg leaning back against Lucas’s front while he used a sponge to soap her arms.

  He’d already spent time on the rest of her and she was squeaky clean. The man was really very thorough in all that he did. She had to admire that about him.

  ‘You are falling
asleep, querida.’

  She stood in the bath as he stepped out to grab a towel.

  His gaze dropped to between her legs and he blinked like an owl while his brows flew into his hairline.

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘They call it a Charlie Chaplin. Don’t you like it?’

  Lucas tried very hard not to grin and failed.

  Then shook his head. ‘You kill me.’

  He wrapped a warm towel around her and energetically dried her.

  She narrowed her eyes and tried to read his expression.

  ‘Do you like it or not?’

  ‘What is not to like? It will be interesting to touch you and to taste you there.’

  ‘You’ll need to wait until tomorrow. I’m too tired tonight.’

  He jerked to a stop and met her eyes.

  ‘Are you telling me you have a headache?’

  ‘No. I’m telling you I’m too tired to have wild sex with you.’

  The look entered his eye that made her knees weak.

  Lifting her in his arms and moving into the bedroom, Lucas tucked her in bed before turning off the light and joining her.

  Spooning her into the curve of his body, his erection jerked and twitched against her bare bottom.

  ‘Hmm, it feels different. Nice but different. You just lie there and I will do all the work. It will be my pleasure.’

  For once, Becca was too tired to argue. And he was right, he did do all the work and it was indeed his pleasure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Four weeks later.

  The sun shone bright in a vivid blue Mediterranean sky.

  Ignoring tradition and his father’s ire, Lucas had insisted on sleeping with his bride-to-be the night before the wedding.

  Amelie and Bronte had whisked Becca away early this morning and he hadn’t seen her since.

  He’d kept Becca well away from the wedding arrangements. They’d flown in by jet and helicopter to the Castilla late last night. Her pregnancy was progressing normally, thank God, and he was determined nothing was going to happen to jeopardise the happiness they shared.

  After a ten day break at his villa in La Gomera, her creamy skin had surprised him by turning a delicious golden colour in the sun.