He gestured to the house with the glasses, standing at an angle to let the light hit his Teutonically exact features, “Shouldn’t you be in the house? Under guard? Or perhaps locked in one of the torture chambers?”
His sneer was the kind of thing that took generations of privilege and a small gene pool to create.
“Eh, Himself and I are still trying to figure out safewords and the like. Besides which, they get upset in there when Noreen does what comes naturally all over the antiques and imported rugs and such.” I leaned down and gave her a kiss between her horns.
Alastair started to open his mouth, looking green with disgust, when a long-legged Scottish pixie dream girl hopped out of the SUV and floated up to us on the clouds of her own girlish beauty. “Did you forget about me then, husband?” Then she thrust out a hand to me, as if I were a person. “Hi, I’m Sorcha.”
I let out a disapproving, Celtic noise, shaking my head at Alastair. Then I broke out my mother’s Glaswegian accent for good measure. “Ya cradle robber, you…”
Before he could scowl me to death, Sorcha actually hopped up and down a bit, “Are you from home, then?”
“I was raised half the year in the East End, and I still have a bedsit in Gallowgate near my ma’s,” I said, leaning towards her, partly because she was one of those sorts who it’s hard even for a black-hearted witch such as myself not to like and partly because Icould tell it would give Alastair a conniption.
Possibly a stroke.
“I LOVE Gallowgate! My sisters-in-law and I met at the Rumbling Tum for breakfast and it was so good. It was the first time I’d had breakfast out in Glasgow and I want to go back. We should go some time.”
Apparently I had a new best friend, with the personality of a deerhound pup and extraordinary green eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Alec’s voice, cold as a wintery grave, came from the doorway.
Before Alastair could speak, Sorcha bopped over to Alec, pulling a bottle-shaped package out of her leather tote. “We have a peace offering. The trouble you have with our- with the McTavish’s is one thing, but you and Alastair are friends, brothers, and I won’t be getting between that. You can’t let me be the cause of his unhappiness, Alec, please.”
Her hair shone pennybright, her face was earnest, and apparently it would have taken an even bigger bastard than Davies to deny her on this pretty morning. Taking the bottle from her, gingerly, as if it were a snake ready to bite him, he gave Sorcha a half-hearted frown.
Before he could say anything, Alastair skirted Noreen’s latest gift to the people of Knightsbridge and joined them, putting a loose arm about Sorcha’s shoulders, “Besides which, I’ve heard rumors of you doing good but albeit violent works and want to know what’s going on.”
“And if it's half as much fun as it sounds can we jump in,” Sorcha added.
I could tell by the glimmer in her eyes, that girl was a born pyromaniac, and her husband hadn’t given her a chance to burn anythingdown in a bit.
Alec looked at me, and I could have sworn he was wanting my thoughts on the matter, as if I had a say about who was and wasn’t allowed in the temple. The moment passed and he stepped aside to motion them in. “When you are finished walking the Bride of Black Philip maybe you can join us?” he called out to me before shutting the door.
Two hours and a few drams of very fine scotch later, at least for me and Alastair since Sorcha wasn’t drinking and strangely neither was Alec, they were caught up on what was happening and why.
Though he was still a bit on edge, Alec was visibly more relaxed with Alastair than he’d been at the farm. That said, every time Sorcha spoke he seemed to shy away a bit from looking right at her. As if she were a bruise he was trying not to bump on his fancy furniture.
To my eternal shock Alastair took a fiddle laugh over the whole thing, looking fit to pee himself when we got to the story about the black bear pheromones in Alaska.
“Why black bears instead of grizzlies?” Sorcha asked.
“My contact amongst the Tlingit told me that black bears are much bigger arseholes.”
For whatever reason that made both Alastair and Alec laugh to falling off their chairs. Clearly there was a story there. Every time one of them would start to calm himself they would look at each other and bust out again.
“Whilst these two are trying to compose themselves, how would you like a cup of tea, Sorcha?”
“I’d love one.”
“Good, off to the kitchen then. And Davies, if you consider ringing for Magda I will put that button in a part of youranatomy that will embarrass you in front of your little friend.”
A short time later Sorcha and I were sorted with big mugs of Barry’s tea - which I had insisted on Alec bringing in since I refused to drink anything called Assam Dinjoye Garden Tippy TGFOP-1, which was his favorite brew. Arsehole that he is.
I also broke out the Hobnobs, even though like most English biscuits the box probably tasted better than they did.
I let her relax and enjoy the pleasures of a proper brew up before I said anything, “For a billionaire child bride you’re not such a bad kid.”
