Here Comes the Rainne Again

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “He picked me because I have bigger balls than the lot of you,” Satan said, followed by her trademark cackle. “Look at you. Bunch of wee boys whining and complaining. There isn’t a proper man amongst you.”

  There was a grunt. Betty’s head spun towards the behemoth known as Grunt. “Okay,” she conceded. “Maybe you can pass for a man. Or a mountain. Whatever.”

  The huge, taciturn American grinned at Betty.

  “Seriously.” Matt leaned across the table towards Lake. “Why?”

  The town’s only cop had known Betty his whole life. He spent most of his time trying to avoid the woman, or jail her, whichever was easiest.

  Lake snorted. “Like I had a choice. It was this or she wanted to be father of the bride. Seeing as I actually want to marry Kirsty and she would kill me if I suggested Betty step in for her dead father, that narrowed the choice down.”

  “You made the right decision, son.” Betty patted him on the head, like he was her dog, and then she waddled off towards the buffet table the pub’s owner Dougal had laid out.

  Lake grinned after her. It’d been three years since he’d inherited her along with the shop he’d bought, and he still got a kick out her. It was like having his own gremlin. Entertaining but kind of scary.

  “Your relationship with that woman is sick and twisted,” Josh McInnes said from the other side of the booth.

  Lake couldn’t argue with the American singer, so he said nothing. He was well aware that he was possibly the only person on the planet who appreciated Betty. He’d long thought her talents were wasted in the Scottish Highlands. If she’d been born elsewhere, or in a different era, she’d have been ruler of her own regime—or have given Mata Hari a run for her money. Under her tartan tent and hairnet was the mind of a criminal genius.

  “Are we just going to sit around here and eat all night?” Mitch asked.

  Josh’s manager and best friend was one of the few unattached men in attendance. His idea of a party was living it up in Las Vegas, not eating chips at the Scottie Dog.

  “Betty has entertainment planned,” Lake said.

  There was a unanimous groan.

  “No,” Harry, the resident boy genius, protested. “It will be fun. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “What did you do?” Harry’s brother, Flynn, said with a sigh. “What did Betty con you into this time?”

  “Hey, I resent that.” Harry glared at his brother. “I didn’t do anything, and Betty isn’t capable of conning me.”

  They all stared at him.

  “Fine.” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “But I’m older and wiser now. I know to be suspicious of everything she says.” His eyes went wide with sudden panic and the men groaned. He had totally fallen for another con. “No,” Harry said. “I checked out everything she said this time.”

  “And?” Flynn prompted. Like the rest of the men, no one was appeased by Harry’s conviction.

  “All she wanted was to use my credit card to book strippers. See, now the surprise is ruined.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “They’re coming up from Glasgow.” He checked his watch. “Should be here any minute. They’re probably delayed because of the weather.”

  Everyone looked out of the window at the snow. It was coming down thick and fast, almost obliterating the view of the streetlights glinting off the black loch.

  “Wind’s picked up,” Matt said.

  “Blizzard,” Flynn said. “Weather forecast said it was coming. Said it was the worst to hit Scotland in decades. They advised we all stay indoors.”

  Mitch’s head hit the table in front of him. “Just when I think this can’t get any more lame, we start talking about the weather.”

  Lake’s lip twitched at Mitch’s pain. The guy was right. This was the worst bachelor party Lake had ever attended. The fact it was his own was kind of amusing. Apart from his friends, the pub was empty, as people had stayed home because of the snow. In all honesty, Lake would be home too, wrapped up with Kirsty, if he could. He’d been hassled into having a stag party, and only the fact Kirsty was holed up at the castle with the women kept him from staying home.

  “Caroline will kill me if I watch strippers,” Josh said.

  “If Jena was here, she’d join in. She’d get up on one of the tables and dance for us.” Matt obviously missed his wife as much as Lake missed Kirsty. “She’s a great dancer.”

  “Yeah,” Harry said. “But maybe not on the tables. Dougal’s still upset about the last time.”

  “It wasn’t her fault she fell off and people got injured. She can’t help that she’s accident prone.”

  “Maybe if she stopped wearing stilts for shoes, she wouldn’t fall over so much,” Harry said.

  Mitch hit his head on the table again. “Now we’re talking about shoes. Why don’t we braid each other’s hair and get this over with? Betty is right. She has more testosterone than the lot of us.”

  “Interesting group of friends you’ve got here,” Callum McKay, Lake’s buddy from when he was in the SAS, commented drolly.

  “He collects us,” Josh said. “We’re his hobby. Lake would be lost without us.”

  Lake’s lip twitched at Josh. Mitch sat back up and rolled his eyes at his best friend.

  “He doesn’t collect us. He makes no effort to be friendly. It’s as though his lack of response acts like Velcro to all the needy people around him. We attach ourselves to Lake.”

  “Who you calling needy?” Flynn said.

  “I don’t need anyone,” Matt said. “Well, maybe Jena.” He leered. “But that’s a good kind of need.”

  “I need people.” Harry’s fingers tapped on the table as though they couldn’t function without a keyboard under them. “No man is an island.”

  Flynn grinned. “I’m an island. I’m bloody Ibiza!”

  “About a Boy.” His brother high-fived him. “Classic movie. Even with Hugh Grant.”

  Lake shook his head at the brothers as Callum watched in bewilderment. “Are you sure this guy is cut out for business?” He nodded at Harry.

  Lake had spent the afternoon in a meeting with Callum and Harry, hammering out a business proposal that would make the three men partners. He knew Callum was still undecided, and part of that was due to working with Harry. At twenty-six, Harry had nowhere near the life experience of Lake and Callum. But they had nowhere near his genius. No one wrote security code like Harry. The guy was a programming genius and an asset they couldn’t afford to exclude.

  “This guy,” Harry said without taking offence, “hacked into the Ministry of Defence when he was eleven and they never caught him. I confessed after I rewrote their security program for them. This guy heads a billion-dollar company. And this guy”—he pointed at himself with pride—“knows how to keep a secret. Anyone want to know who really killed Diana? Well, tough. These lips are sealed.” He folded his arms and grinned at the men.

  Flynn groaned. “Way to prove you’re mature, bro.”

  “Was that what I was supposed to do? I thought I was proving I was skilled.” Harry turned to Callum. “If you’re looking for serious and mature, you’re better off with Grunt.”

  Grunt grunted helpfully to prove Harry’s point.

  Callum shook his head. “What the hell am I doing here?”

  “Having fun?” Mitch said. “No. Me neither.”

  Callum stared at Mitch, but Lake knew he was amused—his way of showing it was to frown less. Lake watched as Callum’s hand twitched on his thigh and his jaw tightened slightly. Lake knew his friend was fighting the urge to rub his leg. He’d recently been fitted with two new prosthetics and they were giving him some trouble. Not that Callum would admit it.

  “This is mind-numbing,” Josh complained. “I would have arranged a much better party. Bet the women are having more fun at the castle. Who did you leave to guard them?”

  “Ryan and Joe.” Lake sipped his beer.

  Josh shot up out of his chair. “No! You left two womanisers with the women. What the hell were
you thinking? If those guys seduce my Caroline, I’m going to have a hit put out on you.” He pointed at Lake.

  There was a moment of silence before everyone burst out laughing.

  “What the hell?” Josh demanded. “What’s so funny?”

  “Caroline,” Mitch sputtered.

  Josh looked ready to thump his best friend. “You think Caroline isn’t attractive enough to seduce?”

  “Get a grip.” Flynn wiped his eyes. “What he’s saying. What we’re all thinking. Is that Caroline is unseducable. She would never cheat on you. Her head would explode even thinking about it. Not only that, she’d lecture the ears off any man who tried to seduce her.”

  “Damn straight.” Josh slumped back, mollified.

  “That’s if she even noticed she was being hit on,” Matt said.

  Josh grinned. “There is that.”

  “You’re not wrong about the party, though,” Flynn said. “This is mind-numbing.”

  “Don’t worry,” Harry said with a grin. “It’ll pick up soon. Strippers. Remember?”

  “Let’s get this party started,” Betty shouted. “The entertainment is here.”

  “See?” Harry said.

  They all turned towards the door and collectively groaned.

  “She booked male strippers?” Harry wailed.

  Four buff guys, dressed in fake fatigues with Velcro seams, swaggered into the middle of the room.

  “She ordered soldiers?” Grunt spoke for the first time that evening.

  “Lake’s ex-forces. What else was I supposed to order?” Betty demanded.

  “Well, duh, women,” Flynn pointed out.

  Betty cackled as she dragged a wooden chair into the middle of the room and positioned herself between the strippers. “Ready when you are, boys.”

  “I’m going to vomit,” Matt said.

  The music kicked in and the men started gyrating. Their packages inches from Betty’s grinning face.

  “Make it stop,” Josh wailed.

  “I need to call a therapist.” Mitch turned his back in disgust. “I can never unsee this.”

  “I can’t believe she conned me into paying for male strippers,” Harry said.

  Callum looked from the strippers to Harry’s stunned expression, then to Lake. “Are you sure he’d make a good business partner?”

  Lake tipped back his head and laughed loud and long.

  3

  * Kirsty *

  “I’m telling you,” Kirsty said to her best friend. “Lake doesn’t love me anymore.” She nibbled at her bottom lip as her eyes welled up. “I have to call off the wedding.”

  “What? No!” Caroline almost fell off her stool at the breakfast bar. “You’re being silly, which makes me look silly for having such a silly woman for a best friend.”

  “Did you say ‘silly’ often enough in that sentence, do you think?”

  The castle kitchen seemed to wobble. It was possible they’d all had a little too much champagne. Well, except for Caroline, who was pregnant with baby number two, and Abby, who was carrying twins and looked only slightly smaller than a house. The rest of the women were laughing raucously as they played a drunken version of pin the tail on the donkey. Only there was no donkey, just a life-sized cardboard cutout of Lake dressed in a tux. A blindfolded Heather Donaldson clutched a pair of men’s thong underwear and tried to stick them to the right place on his body.

  “That is a stupid game.” Kirsty pointed at the women. “Lake would never wear his underwear on the outside of his trousers.”

  “I don’t know,” Caroline said. “He does have a Superman complex.”

  “Yes, he does.” Kirsty pointed at Caroline to prove she was serious. “That’s part of the problem. He’s always running off to help someone else. I know it’s his business—protect people, rescue people, help people.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But it’s all the time. I’ve hardly seen him in the past six months. I think he’s avoiding me.” She hated that her bottom lip began to tremble. “I don’t think he wants me anymore.”

  Caroline came off her stool instantly to wrap her arms around Kirsty. She squeezed her tight. “Of course he still wants you and loves you. That man adores you. He’s been busy, that’s all.”

  “Too busy to have sex?” Kirsty wiped her nose on Caroline’s shoulder and felt her stiffen.

  “Really? We’re going to talk about your private affairs?”

  Kirsty pushed back to look at Caroline. “You’re a married woman. You have a daughter.” She pointed at Caroline’s belly. “And another one on the way. Please tell me you can say the word ‘sex’ now.”

  Caroline blushed and patted her slightly curved belly, which was covered by her classically chic dress. “Of course I can say the word. I just choose not to. I’ve learned you don’t have to say it to do it.” Her cheeks turned even redder. “It doesn’t mean I can’t lend you a sympathetic ear if you want to talk about...you know.”

  “I know.” Kirsty patted her hand, thinking it was a miracle Caroline had loosened up enough to make children. She took a deep breath and confessed. “We haven’t had sex in three months. Not at all. Not once. And before you start raking your memory to see if he was out of town and make excuses for him, the answer is, he wasn’t. Apart from one weekend in London talking to this Callum guy, he’s been here the whole time. Here. In Invertary. Not making love to me.”

  Caroline’s sympathetic look make Kirsty want to sob. “Oh, honey.”

  “There’s only one explanation. He doesn’t love me.” She looked around the room at all the smiling women and ached. They were going to be so disappointed if the wedding didn’t happen. “I thought pushing for the wedding would be a wakeup call for him. That he’d remember why we’re together. Instead I feel further away from him. He’s always in his office or on the phone. He’s trying to avoid me. He hasn’t even been involved in any of the planning for tomorrow. I don’t think he wants to get married. I don’t think he wants to be with me.”

  Caroline patted Kirsty’s back as they watched one of the older women from Knit Or Die pretend to make out with cardboard Lake.

  “You’re embarrassing me, Mum,” Megan Donaldson shouted at her mother as she walked back into the vast open-plan kitchen/dining room.

  Heather didn’t look ashamed. “I’m a woman. I have needs.”

  “Do those needs involve getting it on with a slab of cardboard?” Megan tossed her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder and plonked down on the armchair beside her twin sister. “Why didn’t you stop her?” Megan said.

  Claire held up her phone. “I thought pictures were better.”

  They grinned widely and high-fived each other. Although the twins made no effort to dress the same, they’d still managed to turn up wearing matching boat-necked silver sweaters teamed with sleek black jeans.

  “We need to dance.” Jena Morgan jumped to her feet. The American was wearing a skintight golden dress that barely covered her backside. Her long, wavy hair swung to her waist and her eyes glittered with mischief. “Change the music, Caroline. We need something with a beat. Oh, wait. I have my iPod with me. You can plug it in.”

  She spun on her four-inch heels, tripped over her best friend Abby’s feet and landed headfirst in the other armchair that flanked the fireplace. The rest of the women thought she was hilarious.

  “I’ll get it before you kill yourself.” Abby rooted around in Jena’s bag.

  Jena struggled out of the armchair, pulled down her dress and ran her fingers through her hair, totally unfazed by her face plant.

  Caroline took the iPod from Abby. “No dancing on the furniture. We’re hosting a wedding here tomorrow and I’d like everything to remain in pristine condition.”

  “Jeez, you break one itty-bitty table and people expect you to trash their place.” Jena rolled her eyes.

  “Why didn’t we have this party with the men?” Kirsty’s mother said. “It would have been more fun with some hunks hanging around.”

&nb
sp; There was a disgusted snort from the hallway where Joe was keeping an eye the front door. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  Kirsty smiled at that. There was no way anyone could think the tall Italian-American was anything but gorgeous.

  “Get in here and dance, then we’ll decide if you rate being called a hunk,” Margaret shouted back.

  “I’m working here.” He sounded amused. “Kirsty, keep your mother under control.”

  “Yeah, like that’s possible.” Kirsty smiled fondly at her mother.

  “You aren’t working,” Margaret shouted back. “You’re here to spy on us.”

  There was laughter from the hallway. As far as Kirsty knew, the men had drawn straws to attend the hen party. As in, they wanted to be there. Joe and Ryan had won. They were supposed to hang around outside the castle, but it was freezing out there and about four feet deep with snow. Now they were guarding the women from inside, which pleased them immensely.

  The music came out of the stereo at full volume. There were whoops of delight, and the coffee table was cleared to the side to make more space for dancing. Kirsty watched Jena dance. The former go-go girl was seriously talented.

  As the women whooped and danced, Kirsty slowly backed out of the room. She wandered down the long hallway, past the ornately carved banister and regal staircase to the grand room—the venue of her wedding. As she stepped into the cavernous room, Kirsty’s heart sped up at the sight before her. Even though the weather meant the ceremony couldn’t be held in a marquee as she’d planned, the grand room was stunning.

  Caroline had emptied the room of its usual furniture, leaving Kirsty to do as she liked with the space. She’d chosen to use the purple and green Campbell tartan as her theme. Rows of high-backed chairs dressed in white silk with dark purple bows, flanked a central aisle. The cream walls were hung with reams of purple silk, broken up with garlands of green laced with purple irises and white roses. Tomorrow morning, five-year-old Katy, Abby’s daughter, would walk down that aisle scattering purple petals made of silk for Kirsty to walk on. The silk flowers were a last-minute addition to save Caroline’s cream carpet from being stained by fresh petals.