And again, I'm reminded of how much I owe her.
Our smiles fade when there's a knock on the door. "Mrs. MacTavish?" Ian’s voice is polite and level. "Your husband has asked me to bring ye to the main house."
My heart sinks with a leaden thump. For a few brief hours, it felt like it always had, growing up in this house. Sitting in the kitchen with Mom and my best friend, laughing and talking. His words abruptly drag me back to the reality of who and what I am now.
"I'll come with ye,” Maisie says, hauling me up from the chair. "Give your mum a hug and let's be on our way."
Mom finds a smile for me and squeezes me hard. “It will be okay,” she whispers. “You’ve done harder things.”
I lean back, “Really?”
“Well… youcando hard things. Don’t forget it.”
My steps get slower as we head back down the path to the point where Maisie is almost hauling me along. I'd worn one of my nicest sundresses today, trying to look good. But approaching the grandeur of the MacTavish mansion, I feel the same as I always do.
Like the help.
"Ladies, come and join us,” Mala says. She's standing by the huge double doors to the office with a warm smile for Maisie and a slightly more guarded one for me. The Chieftain and Michael are sitting around the conference table, ties loosened, and there’s a roll of papers - plans from something, I think - spread out between them. Michael casually rolls it up as we walk in.
Georges is there too, and he picks up his laptop. “I'll just be on my way." He's the first one of the MacTavish staff to look directly at me and give me a little smile. I know how acutely, painfully shy he is and it makes his effort mean all the more to me.
Michael moves from the conference table, holding out his hand for me to come and sit beside him on the couch. Maisie slouches in one of the armchairs with her legs thrown over the side, not quite glaring at her parents for being so reserved with me.
It’s not like I can blame them.
"The annual MacTavish Foundation Gala is this Saturday," Mala says. "We thought this would be a good time to introduce Sophie as Michael's new bride. Maisie, why don’t you arrange a time to go get fitted for a couple of new evening gowns?" She gives her daughter a wink. “I doubt that will be much hardship for you.” Mala nods at me. “I know you're not quite the fan of shopping that my daughter is, but you're going to need some formal wear, so this is a good time to get started."
I know what she’s trying to politely say, that my wardrobe - which is primarily eclectic thrift store finds and Temu bargains - isn't going to cut it for MacTavish high society. Still, I appreciate her kindness in putting it tactfully.
"Oh, grand!” Maisie says brightly. "Plus, we can stop by Tiffany's, and see if we can find a proper wedding ring for ye," she shoots her brother a venomous glance. “Sincecertainpeople cannot seem to be bothered."
I cringe so hard, I can feel my spine compress.Maybe not the time for this discussion, I groan internally.
Michael's mouth tightens slightly. "I'll take care of the ring," he says coolly. “You two just concentrate on evening wear."
The Chieftain has been sitting silently this entire time, fingers steepled together as he watches me. "We've done some research on Robert Taylor," he finally says. "I have already spoken to your mother. He's been busy with the Kelly gang in Belfast. Your father’s old syndicate is failing financially, and Taylor is trying to shore up support. The only logical reason for his stupidity in going up against us is some sort of misguided attempt to develop a fearsome reputation. It will not be successful. Ye and your mother will both have extra security until we can neutralize him as a threat."
I don't ask what he means by “neutralize.” Depending on how angry the MacTavishes are, that could be anything from destroying him financially, to launching a nuke into the Graves Mafia compound.
“Th- thank you, Chieftain. For protecting my mother.” I force myself to look at him directly and his green eyes, so much like Michael’s are softer than I expect.
“Of course,” he says, and then ruins it. “It will reflect poorly on the clan to have something happen to ye.”
I hear Mala give a slight scoff as she stares at her husband, then there’s an excruciatingly uncomfortable moment of silence before Michael rises. “I'll take you home.”
I’ve never been so grateful to leave.
***
Tadger - Scottish slang for penis.
Skoosh - Scottish slang for something easily done.
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie…
Saturday arrives all too soon.
