“Everything’s been clear, sir,” he says, apparently trying to dazzle Michael with his keen security instincts.
“Thank ye,” Michael doesn’t look up from his phone, just nodding to Kyle to go through the open gate. Gary’s gaze darts back to me for a minute as his tongue slips out to run across his lower lip.
Really? Maybe it was unconscious and he was nervous, trying to redeem himself to Michael. I glance back at him as the gate closes, and he’s still staring. I don’t know him very well, he’s a new hire.
My heart starts pounding as the SUV stops and Michael looks over as my hand grips the door handle. “As my wife,” he says mildly. “Ye will wait until I, or one of your guards, opens the door. There may be a threat assessment to conduct before taking ye from the security of the car.”
Is this what Maisie has to do? All the other MacTavish women? The realization feels heavy. And though I suspect Michael is thinking it, if not saying it, the guards don’t trust me. Maybe that changes how they handle the threat assessment ifI'mconsidered the threat.
Realizing that he’s waiting for me to respond, I nod rapidly. “Of course. Sure.” Once my husband (captor? guard?) gets out and moves around the Maserati, he gently pushes Ian away from trying to open my door, doing it himself.
Taking the huge container of cookies I’ve brought with me, Michael heads around the back of the mansion.
“I’ll take ye back to see your mother,” he says, leaning closer to speak softly. “It’s likely that my sister will come bursting out of the shrubbery before we get there. Ye should brace yourself.”
My lips twitch slightly. The image is so vivid and unmistakably Maisie. That’s the last smile I wear as we make the Walk of Shame back to my mother’s cottage. There are always people swarming the MacTavish estate; guards, various cousins, gardeners and household help. It feels like every one of them pauses slightly to look at us, then quickly away, like that night when they tore through our cottage. Like I’m unworthy of even a glance.
This time, instead of shame, I feel… okay, I’mpissed off.What happened was horrible. I don’t know how we can redeem the loss of Riley, or the damage to the MacTavish reputation, but what I do know is that my mother acted to protect me. She’s not a monster.
They deal with real monsters all the time. They should know the difference.
Michael glances down at me, brow raised. I’m walking faster, hands clenched and mouth tight. When two guards in the corner of the arbor put their heads together, whispering, he snaps, “Dinnae ye arseholes have work to do? On with it!” They scatter like squirrels who just spotted an eagle and it’s extremely gratifying.
Pausing outside the cottage’s cheerful red door, he hands me the box of cookies. “I’ll be in the office with my father for a couple of hours. Ian will be here if ye need anything.”
Ian’s standing behind us in his standard dark suit, carefully expressionless.
“No offense to Ian but could he wait outside?” I blurt out. I still remember the shame of being forced to have that emotional conversation with Mom as he stood and listened to us, like a prison guard.
“Of course,” Michael says.
“Thank you,” I give him the first real smile I’ve had since this nightmare started.
Just as Michael had predicted, the front door to the cottage whips open and Maisie comes blazing through, eyes wide and angrier than I’ve ever seen her. Her gaze turns to me and for a moment, I’m frozen. Is she furious because she thinks I sold out her family? I cringe back, feeling horrible and ashamed.
She gives a muffled sob and flings her arms around me.
“I dinnae know until today,” she gasps, hugging me tight enough that my ribs creak ominously, crushing the cookie box between us. “Those eejits! Whatever happened, I know your mum had a good reason for it. I know she loves our family.”
My arm goes around her shaking shoulders, my forehead presses against hers. “Thank you,” I manage to gasp. “Thank you for believing in us.”
We stand there, swaying, crying together until Maisie lifts her head.
“Michael!” she shouts, making my eardrum bulge ominously. “Yearrogant, heartless git!Scaring my best friend into marrying ye and-” Her gaze falls to my left hand and she holds it up accusingly. “What the hell isthisshite? Ye just shoved your signet ring on her finger? All thecousinsmanaged to scrape up a decent ring in the same amount of time ye had! This is embarrassing! And ye dinnae even make it right in the last seventy-two hours?”
“To be fair,” Michael says, “there have been more pressing matters.”
I’d forgotten how terrifying Maisie can be when she’s enraged at her brothers. And since the one she’s currently ripping apart is the man who can’t stand me, it’s deeply satisfying to watch.
“Maisie,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you’d screamed at me like this in front of my men, I’d have ye stuffed in the boot of your car by now. As it is, you’ve used up all my brotherly goodwill. You’re welcome to stay and talk with Sophie, but the screaming ends now. Are we clear, lass?”
Her eyes are lighter than Michael’s, and they spark like a firecracker when she’s enraged. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Fine.” She smiles malevolently. “If I find out that you’ve mistreated my Sophie, there’s no familial power on earth that’ll keep ye safe from me.”
Michael’s gaze turns to me. “I’ll have ye brought to the house in an hour or two.”
I hurry through the front door, hearing the crisp sound of his dress shoes walking back down the path. "Mom?"
“In here!" she calls from the kitchen. “I must warn you that Maisie-”
