“Was…” My fingers tighten on my plate. I’ve got to be tougher than this. “Hewasalive, then. Not now.”
“Aye. He’s gone.” He’s watching my expression carefully. Lifting his fist, he shows me the six tattoo marks on his hand, including the new one he must have gotten today.
“Are those marks for people you’ve, ye know, that you’ve killed?”
He chuckles, but not like it’s really funny. “These are for you, my wife. These are the men who hurt ye, who tried to kill ye.”
The two men in the alley…
The two men who kidnapped me…
Anselm.
Head Bastard in Charge.
Sucking in a deep breath, I nod. “I hope ye dinnae need to make any more marks for me, then. But ye saved me. Ye protected me from so much worse. It’s… it means so much. I dinnae expect to feel this.”
He smiles gently, which seems so odd while having this conversation about murder and tattoos. “Do ye want me to go run a nail brush over my hands again? I’m thinking I missed a spot or two.”
For the first time, I take the initiative, going up on tiptoe and kissing him. His mouth is warm and soft, and I take a moment before I pull back. “That is a good idea.”
Crabbit - Scottish slang for cranky or pissy.
Bessie - Scottish slang for a saucy or ill-tempered woman
Chapter Twenty-Four
In which Arabella goes back to school and Logan discovers he has a Librarian Kink.
Arabella…
It’s been five days since Logan left for parts unknown.
Well, he did narrow it down to ‘the Mediterranean,’ which gives me precisely nothing to work with.
When his face lights up my phone screen, I jump for it so fast that I’m embarrassing myself but I dinnae care.
“Ye look tired as hell,” I blurt. There’s the supportive commentary every husband needs. “I mean, ye look like ye could use some extra rest, and…”
He’s laughing, but he’s got dark circles under his eyes and his well-trimmed beard is growing into something more suited for a mountain man who herds sheep. “I know I look like shite, my pretty wife. Are ye ready for your testing, then?”
“Aye, I think. I’ve been studying every moment since you’ve been gone, keeping myself busy.” I nervously fluff my hair. “Do I look like a solid and respectable educator of young, impressionable bairns, ye think?” I hold my phone out so he can see my outfit; the pink sweater he bought me in Copenhagen and a black pencil skirt.
“Feck me,” he groans. “I dinnae know I had a librarian kink until this very moment.” His gaze sharpens and suddenly, he’s not looking at all tired. “And what are ye wearing under that skirt?”
“Some of those crotchless knickers ye bought me.”
He’s looking half parts turned on and half parts outraged and I canna help but laugh.
“I’m wearing proper tights, husband.”
“Do ye know, that’s the first time you’ve called me husband?” He runs his hand through his hair, which only seems to make him look even more of a braw lad. “It’s a pity I’m not there to thank ye properly.”
“Aye, I’m thinking we’ve been apart now almost as long as we’ve been together in this unusual arrangement.” I hop on one foot, then the other to get my high heels on. Not too high. I’m going back to the University of Glasgow, not a club.
“Our marriage isn’t anunusualrelationship,” he scoffs. “We’re gonna have dinner with Kai and my cousin Ethan. Ye really need to know just how unusual MacTavish marriages can get.”
“That is in no way reassuring, if that was what ye are aiming for.”
