Cian took my hand as we stepped out of the SUV, and it wasn’t the chokehold I expected. Maybe because I was trying to stay calm, and he felt it.
It was only my husband’s entire past and our future depending on what Mr. MacGregor would say to us—no pressure or anything, right?
The thought made me take a shuddering breath. Cian’s grip on my hand grew tighter. It didn’t lessen as we made our way inside the invite-only castle. Men in fine tuxes. Women in designer dresses. Mr. MacGregor seemed to know how to throw a fancy party. He must have done especially well in arms dealing over the years. The castle was vast, and it was filled with candlelight. The scents of champagne and expensive perfumes drifted through the air. Weighing heavily underneath them were the smells of whiskey and leather and cigar smoke.
My dad had untangled himself from us as soon as his feet hit the entrance, and he stood with who I assumed was Mr. MacGregor on the top step of the impressive entryway. Mr. MacGregor was an imposing figure like my husband, but more genial it seemed. He was over six feet tall with reddish brown hair that had started graying on the sides. His face was a bit ruddy, maybe from all the smoking and alcohol, and with his paw-like hand on my dad’s shoulder, his laughter boomed. Probably as loud as the fireworks were going to be later.
Mr. MacGregor’s laughter fizzled out as he looked at me, though his smile lingered. I assumed my dad was telling him I’d come, because he was gesturing toward me, and I smiled in return.
Cian slipped his hand to the small of my back and pulled me closer. I was sure Mr. MacGregor noticed, but the smile didn’t fade from his face. A younger version of Mr. MacGregor joined him and my dad. The younger version could only be his son. I could tell Cian didn’t like the attention I was getting from the two men—older and younger versions. He kept making a noise in his throat, almost like a low, warning growl.
“Simmer down, lad,” Keenan said almost under his breath. He took a quick drink of whiskey. “Men have eyes like ferrets, and your wife is the shiniest woman in the room.”
Cian turned the noise on Keenan.
“Hey—” Keenan started.
“Look!” I rushed out, trying to redirect their attention. “Here comes my dad.”
My dad stopped when he came to us. His eyes were bright, and he was a bit flushed. Mr. MacGregor had probably told him he had some ancient piece of history in this castle somewhere, and my dad was eager to find it.
Dad fixed his glasses. “Business first,” he said. “By the time this night is over, MacGregor might not even remember why we’re here. He’s already downed a lot, and the night is just getting started. It’s best to get it over with now. His son will be joining us. MacGregor is retiring soon, and his son is going to take over the business. They’re waiting to show us to the office. Let’s go.”
At the top of the stairs, introductions were made. Mr. MacGregor shook my hand lightly, and so did his son, Alexander. Neither of their grips lingered, maybe because of the look in my husband’s eyes. It wasn’t steady, and they had probably sensed it. Mr. MacGregor turned on his heel as his son walked next to him, but a man kept a few paces behind Fiona, who was the last one up. I had a feeling he was security for the MacGregors. He wore an earpiece in his ear.
We were showed to Mr. MacGregor’s office, where my dad rushed to a case of books and figurines, saying something like “how extraordinary!” as he looked them over. I had to admit, his collection was extensive, and next to each one, he had carved wooden pieces.
Mr. MacGregor motioned to the figurine of the Pirate Jean I’d done. With my husband’s hand on my back, we walked to the case together. It was next to a signed, limited-edition hardback of the book. Cian’s eyes flicked to mine after he compared the illustrated pirate on the front cover to the one I’d done out of wood.
His eyes lost some of the storm, and I could tell he was proud. He gave me a subtle nod, and the heat from his palm seemed to increase on my back.
“I had the author over for dinner one night.” Mr. MacGregor looked between me and the figurine. “He was delighted by your work. Since he wrote one of my son’s favorite books, I decided to gift him with it. My son was upset about parting with it, almost as much as I was.” He smiled, and I decided then it was kind. “I told Pauric money was no issue. I needed another for my collection. He told me not to worry. He and his daughter were glad do it. But I’m a man who doesn’t like to owe, even if the favor or gift is done out of kindness. I told Pauric I had a tab with him, and he’d put what he’d done for me on it.” There was that hearty laughter again, but it faded some as he looked at his son.
His eyes were almost…nostalgic.
Mr. MacGregor cleared his throat and then invited us all to take seats around his desk. My dad and his son were the only two left standing. My dad because he was all over the room, looking at everything Mr. MacGregor had on display. Alexander stood behind his dad, like whatever his father decided, he’d be on board with.
Kennan was leaning forward a little, and I could tell he was about to get straight to the point of the meeting, but Mr. MacGregor beat him to it.
“I know why you’re all here tonight. Pauric made no secret of it, even if he could have. I enjoy his mind, and I just like him. He’s a good man. An honest one. When I told him I had a tab, I wished for the day I could make good on it. I never thought he would, though, unless something happened with his daughter.” He sighed. “Perhaps what’s going on directly affects you?”
I nodded. He returned it.
He studied my face for a moment before he met Cian’s eyes. “I’ve been knowing Oran Craig before you were born, lad. Disliking him for that long as well. I can only assume as to why you’re going to war with him. If everything I heard on the street is true, it’s an honorable reason. A reason I could stand behind, even if years ago, I didn’t need a reason. Money spoke to me, nothing else. But then my son was born, and he took sick as a young lad. It felt like a punishment or something, for all the sons I might have taken away from their fathers with the deals I made under this table.” He took his pointer finger and knocked on the wood with it.
“One night, after I’d used up all the emotions, and all that was left in me was despair, I sat at this same table and made a deal with God. I wouldn’t make another one under this table as long as I got to keep my son. It’s been a ‘no’ for me ever since when men have come to me with under-the-table deals.”
My head slowly moved to the case with the book and the figurine. It was a book a young boy would probably enjoy, especially if he was sick. All the adventures the Pirate Jean would take him on while sailing the tall seas. I mean, I even enjoyed the book as a kid, even if I dreamed of marrying Pirate Jean instead of being his first mate. My eyes moved slowly to Mr. MacGregor and his son, and his son nodded at me.
“I didn’t want to show it, but when the author took my figurine away as a kid, I was torn up inside. I kept the new one next to my bed until—”
“Today.” His father laughed. “We couldn’t pry it out of his hands when he was a wee boy, and as a man…we just let him have it.”
“I’m glad,” I whispered, realizing what my dad had done. He’d given this family something to hold onto, even when it felt as if their lives were falling apart. I was touched they had treasured what I’d done so much—almost as much as they treasured the words inside of the book. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”
“Over twenty years in remission,” Alexander said. “Getting married next month. It’ll be an honor to pass on the Pirate Jean to my son, or daughter, someday.”
“You can understand why this decision has been a hard one to make,” his father continued. “I made a deal, and now the man I owe is knocking on my door, asking me for the one thing I can’t in good consciousness give. But…I spoke to Alexander earlier, and he said he would do it. It’s a technicality, but a technicality I’m not comfortable with. It doesn’t sit right in my soul.”
