by Anna Durand
Into an oppressive cloud of smoke.
My eyes burn and water, but Alex drags me in the direction of the staircase. Flames crackle and snap. Sparks float on the air, carried along on a wind created by the fire. When we reach the landing, Logan appears out of the smoke like an apparition—one who's wearing a face mask fashioned from a pillowcase he's tied around his head. He thrusts two pillowcases at us. Alex and I struggle to get ours on even while Logan leads us down the staircase to the first floor, where the smoke is less dense.
The lights are off, but Logan has a flashlight. He leads us toward the foyer.
My brothers are waiting there, each wearing a different kind of makeshift face mask.
We rush out of the house, through the already open double doors, and stop on the other side of the driveway. My eyes still burn, triggering tears that stream down my cheeks. Alex still grips my hand, not quite hard enough to hurt. For several minutes, the six of us stand there staring up at the flames engulfing the house. The smoke snakes upward, visible in the light of a full moon.
The night is warm, but a shiver rattles my entire body.
Alex hugs me to his side, rubbing my arm.
Sirens wail from further down the long driveway. The noise grows louder with every passing second, and soon red lights coruscate around us as the first responders arrive. A fire truck pulls up first, then an ambulance, and finally a sheriff's department car. We move further away from the house to give the firefighters more room to work. I haven't processed what's already happened, but now the firefighters are aiming a hose at the house, its powerful jet shooting up to the second floor.
I suddenly realize it's the second floor that's burning the brightest and hottest. Smoke pours out of the ground floor, but I can't see flames there.
The whole scene unfolds in a blur. I feel like I can't focus on anything, like my mind can't sort out what I'm seeing and hearing and smelling and feeling. Eventually, we all climb into our two cars—my brothers in the one they hired at the airport, and Logan in the car with me and Alex. I stay trapped in a mental haze until we reach a hotel and get into the adjoining rooms we've rented. Aidan lends Alex some of his clothes since Alex is wearing only a dressing gown. I wear Aidan's clothes too, though I need the belt from my dressing gown to hold up the trousers that are much too big for me.
I sit on the end of the bed in the room Alex and I share. "What happened?"
He crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Someone burnt the house down."
"The house is gone?"
"No, I imagine there will be some part of it left." He brushes his fingers over my cheek. "But I think it will be gutted. I'm essentially homeless."
"We're homeless."
"Yes, we are." He tries for a smile. "Guess I'll have to move in with Mum and Dad. Their unemployed son comes home to sponge off them."
I know he's joking, since he apparently has a small fortune in the bank—or maybe it's a large fortune, I don't know—but his smile falters and his voice cracks. He's lost his home, the house he built and has lived in for years. He would've lost his possessions too. I've lost only what I brought with me from Scotland, and that was mostly clothes and shoes. The rest of my belongings were to be shipped here later, once I got settled in.
"Alex," I say, holding his face in my hands, "I'm so sorry. You've lost everything."
"No, I haven't done." He turns his face into my hand, kissing the palm. "I have you."
Someone knocks on the door that connects our room to the one where my brothers are. Logan paid for his own room on the other side of mine and Alex's.
"Come in," I call out.
Alex and I both stand.
Lachlan opens the door and hovers on the threshold, as if he's not sure whether he'll be welcome in our room. "We've been talking. You should join us and hear what we think you two should do now."
Alex doesn't even complain about my brother announcing that he and the other MacTaggart men have decided for us what we should do. He's still in shock, I assume. I know I am.
We tramp into the other room, where my brothers and Logan wait for us. Logan sits in a chair by the window while Rory, Lachlan, and Aidan all sit on the same bed. Lachlan gestures for me and Alex to take the other bed. My brothers turn to face us once we've sat down.
Alex slips an arm around my shoulders.
Logan speaks first. "I spoke to the sheriff. He told me the fire in your home seems to have started upstairs. He won't know for sure until there's been an investigation, but there's evidence of arson. They found a scorched metal container that most likely held petrol."
"Someone emptied a can of gasoline in my house?" Alex says.
"Then they lit a match, or something like that."
Alex bows his head, staying silent for several seconds, then he looks at Logan. "It was Reginald Hewitt. It has to be. He said I would pay."
"Aye, that does make sense." Logan shifts in his chair, grimacing like he can't get comfortable. "You still think he's brought Falk Mullane with him."
"Don't you? I can't imagine who else would team up with that bastard."
"Maybe." Logan glances at Lachlan. "Why don't you tell them our plan?"
Lachlan nods and turns to me and Alex. "We want you two to come back to Scotland with us. Let the authorities sort out what happened here. You'll be safe at Dùndubhan. It is a fortress, after all, and very difficult to breach—not to mention difficult to burn down."
A solid stone fortress. It does sound like the safest place. Evan and Keely had taken shelter there when Ron Tulloch came after them, so maybe it is the best place for me and Alex. Will he balk at the idea of staying in Rory's castle? My brother doesn't live there anymore, but he still owns it. Jamie and Gavin don't live there anymore either, though they run the museum at Dùndubhan, and I'm sure they won't mind letting Alex on the grounds under the circumstances.
They'd better get used to him, full stop.
"Henry and Imogen should come too," Logan says, "to be safe. We can pick them up on the way."
"My parents?" Alex says, his brows rising. "How do you know about them? I never told you."
Logan smiles in that way he does whenever he knows a secret the other person thought he could never uncover. "I was a spy, Alex. Did you really think I wouldn't know?"
"I suppose I should've guessed you'd find out."
Alex's mobile rings. He answers with a gruff hello, then his forehead crinkles while he listens to the caller. "Thank you for letting me know, Gus. And yes, you need to tell the police about it even though nothing was taken. My house was burnt down early this morning, so I'm sure the break-in is connected. I'm glad no one was hurt." He nods at whatever Gus Hooper says. "I will. Goodbye."
"What was that about?" I ask.
"Someone broke into my former office on campus an hour ago." He scrapes a hand through his hair. "They set the trash bin on fire, but luckily it wasn't large enough to swallow up the whole room. Someone spotted the smoke and put out the fire."
"Whoever set these fires," Logan says, "has no idea you've lost your job. Sounds like Reginald is out to destroy you."
"Yes, it does seem that way."
"This changes the plan. We need to be away immediately."
Alex's parents. We need to get to them before Reginald and whoever he's working with find them—if they find them. We can't take the chance. Logan already knows that.
"You can wash off the smoke on the jet," Logan says, rising and stretching. "It's equipped with a shower. Let's go."
My brothers have left their bags in their hired car. Alex and I have no luggage. I can get fresh clothes from my house once we arrive in Scotland, but Alex has nothing.
While we walk out to the car, I tell him, "I'm so sorry, Alex. You don't have any clothes but the borrowed ones you're wearing."
"Not your fault." He opens the car door for me. "Besides, this isn't the first time I've started over from scratch."
My heart aches for him. For the laddie who'd been forced to turn his parents in to the police and go live with strangers. For the boy who'd constantly worried about what his parents might do when they got out of prison. For the young man who had moved his new parents to another country to escape his past. And now, for the mature man who has lost his job and his home.
But he has everything that matters. He has me, Henry, and Imogen.
And soon, he'll have the entire MacTaggart clan behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alex
Since Cat is wearing Aidan's clothes, which are far too big for her, we make a quick stop at a discount clothing store on the way to the airport. It's the only place open at eight o'clock in the morning. She buys a pair of skintight trousers that she calls leggings. They look more like tights to me, but she insists they're real clothes suitable for public viewing. The oversize T-shirt she picks out hangs below her hips. I suspect she chose that shirt because I complained about her choice of so-called trousers.
We all shower on the jet, on our short trip to Nevada to pick up Henry and Imogen.
They're thrilled to see us, even though we tell them about the Reginald problem and the fires at my house and my old office. My parents love the idea of spending more time with me and Cat, but they know we're exhausted from the morning's events. They watch the on-board telly, using headsets to hear it so they won't disturb the rest of us.
We fall asleep on various pieces of furniture. Logan collapses on the sofa. Lachlan sits sideways on a chair, with his legs draped over the adjacent chair. Soon, he's snoring. Rory sits in a chair the proper way, but his head lolls to the side when he falls asleep. Aidan decides to lie on the floor.
Cat and I take the bedroom.
I wake up when the jet begins its descent toward landing, but I let Cat sleep until we've touched down.
A limousine is waiting for us on the tarmac.
Rory had made the call to arrange for a car while we were still in the air. He'd also warned the other MacTaggarts I was coming. Those Scots might dislike me, but I know they won't assault me given what's happened. They aren't bastards like me.
I'm in Scotland again. I've never spent more than four consecutive days in the country, and that had been on my first visit when Logan and Serena insisted I stay to celebrate their engagement with them. Their wedding had taken place in America.
Cat holds my hand as we exit the plane. She keeps holding it while we get into the limousine and during the entire trip to Rory's castle. When the car stops inside the castle walls, in the gravel drive, Cat lets go of my hand only long enough to get out of the car, then she reclaims it. I…don't mind. If I'm completely honest, which I admit is a rare thing for me, I would've wanted to hold her hand even if she hadn't initiated the contact.
My house is gone. Up in smoke, literally.
I still can't decide how to feel about that.
Henry and Imogen have been to Scotland before. They even honeymooned here, which I hadn't known.
"Why did you never mention that before?" I ask while we walk across the courtyard toward the house—the castle—where we'll all be staying. Though it's late according to UK time, the sun is still shining from low on the horizon.
"I don't know," my mother says. "It just never came up in conversation."
"But I introduced you to Cat, who is from Scotland."
"We were so happy to see you again that we didn't think about silly things like our honeymoon in Edinburgh."
Apparently, I still have a lot to learn about my parents.
Cat's brother Aidan comes up beside me. "If you need more clothes, you can always wear a kilt. It's very comfortable and lets everything swing free."
He makes a swinging motion in front of his groin.
"Thank you for the advice," I say, "but I'm afraid the pink kilt Cat gave me was destroyed in the fire."
"Oh, we've got plenty more." He winks. "Or maybe Cat will make you a lavender one this time."
I can tell he's trying to cheer me up, and that fact surprises me. One of Catriona's brothers wants to make me feel better. I glance up at the sky, sure the sun must have split in two. For any of her brothers to be nice to me seems like a sign of an impending apocalypse. I haven't tried very hard, or at all, to make peace with her brothers, so maybe Aidan's attempt to cheer me up has nothing to do with doomsday.
Cat squeezes my hand, making me look at her, and she smiles with genuine affection.
She's smiled at me that way a lot lately. It makes my chest feel like there's a large weight pressing down on it, but the sensation isn't bad. It ought to feel awful, but instead it makes me smile the same way at her.
Jamie and Gavin greet us at the door to the castle that masquerades as a house and a museum. Cat's youngest sister slapped me soundly the first time we met, but today she pulls me into a brief but firm hug. Once she lets me go, her husband shakes my hand and claps me on the shoulder. Fiona, Cat's older sister, also hugs me.
I suppose they feel sorry for me because my house burnt to the ground along with all my possessions. No need to play the pathetic, homeless urchin today. I've become a genuine one.
Catriona wants to show me around Dùndubhan and tell me about its history, but all I want to do is sleep. Since Cat yawns while she's suggesting the tour, I realize we both need a good night's rest. We fall asleep on a large canopy bed in a room inside a medieval castle.
When I wake up the next morning, I lie there staring up at the canopy while I consider the motives of Reginald Hewitt. He despises me, that much I know. But why has he gone on a vendetta to destroy me? He thinks I'm an irritating arse, but that hardly justifies his behavior.
Cat sighs the way she always does when she wakes up, the sound as delicate as a summer breeze. Maybe I haven't slept with her much since our reunion, but I remember every little thing she used to do when we lived together. She'll keep her eyes closed for a few minutes, though she's awake, and then she'll wriggle closer to me and drape half her body over mine. Since I'm lying on my back, that's what she'll do. If I were on my side, she would drape her leg over mine and cozy up to my chest. Once, I'd woken up on my stomach. Cat had laid her entire body on top of me that time.
Maybe I should roll over onto my stomach this morning.
Cat wriggles closer and drapes one arm and one leg over me, placing her head on my chest. Her hair tickles my skin, and I lift my head to push my nose into those silky locks and inhale the scent of them.
"Good morning, love," I say. "Care for a shag before breakfast?"
"I'd love to make love with you, Alex." She raises her head, aiming those beautiful blue eyes at me. "But we have too much to do. Better eat breakfast and get started."
"On what? We have no bloody idea where Reginald is." I clasp my hands at the small of her back, and though I shouldn't feel happy right now, I love the sensation of her breasts mounded against my chest and the warmth of her supple body pressed to mine. "We're to let the authorities handle the manhunt. Remember?"
"You don't want to lie around in bed while your arch-nemesis is out there."
"What would you suggest I do? I'm a grifter, not a bounty hunter."
She seals two fingers over my lips. "Donnae ever call yourself a grifter again. You're not like that anymore, not since you got away from your birth parents. You are a good man."
"Fine. I'm a sodding good man. Let's have a party to celebrate my law-abiding lifestyle." I sigh, but it sounds more like grumbling. "None of that helps us with our problem."
She smiles, her eyes twinkling. "You keep saying 'us' and 'we' and 'our.' You know what that means, don't you? We're a team."
My mouth hangs open, like I'm inviting every insect in Scotland to fly in there. Did I say those words? Us. Our. We. Yes, I did say that. I told my parents we're a couple, but I haven't included anyone else in my decisions for so long that I can't remember when I last did that.
"Yes, we are a team," I say. "For bett
er or worse."
The second I speak those words, I realize I've recited part of the standard wedding vows. That is not what I meant. Not at all.
But the idea of marrying Cat doesn't disturb me.
"We need help," Cat says while drawing invisible, abstract patterns on my chest with her finger. "Luckily, the MacTaggarts can give us that help. We have every sort of expert you might possibly want or need. Logan is a covert operative, Evan designs surveillance and security devices, Rory is a solicitor, Aidan owns a construction company—"
"If we need your brother's construction expertise, then we're in worse trouble than I thought. Is he going to build us an underground bunker?"
She rolls her eyes at me but continues listing the skill set of every MacTaggart in creation. "Lachlan used to be a financial adviser, but he also has connections in government. So does Rory. And Gavin is an ex-Marine."
"But he's not a MacTaggart. You said your family can offer all the skills we need."
"Aye, and Gavin is my brother-in-law. That makes him a MacTaggart." She taps her finger on my chest. "May I go on? Or are you going to interrupt with another sarcastic comment?"
"Go on. But I reserve the right to heckle you."
She sits up, then swings one leg over me to straddle my hips and lays both hands on my chest. "Then there's Iain, who's an archaeologist like me. His wife, Rae, had a sheep ranch in Texas and now she and Iain have one at their home near Loch Fairbairn. She knows all about sheep, llamas, and horses. Oh, and they have chickens now too."
"Wonderful. We can hurl chickens at Reggie when he storms this castle. Or maybe we could have the sheep trample him while Iain excavates ancient bones that we can use to pummel Reginald."
"Rae went undercover to get Iain out of jail. And Keely stabbed the scunner who went after Evan."
"Hmm, yes. I'd almost forgotten about you MacTaggart women and your tendency toward violence. Even the Americans who are MacTaggarts by marriage have fiery tempers, but only you have that smoldering fire in your soul."
