I blink in surprise.
“What?”
“Aye,” he says. “And I want to thank you. I came across the books only a few months ago. Someone left one in a waiting room, and I picked it up. Thought I’d handed in my bloke card, reading romance, but the books are bloody good.”
“Thank you.” I feel my cheeks flush pink.
Tavish read my books?
“Aye, lassie,” he says, sobering as we prepare to land. “And I have to thank you. They felt so real, so familiar. It was reading all those books that helped trigger my memories, because I felt like I was home.”
Tate kisses my temple. “Now, love,” he whispers in my ear. “Now do you feel forgiven?”
When we land, there’s a veritable parade of people waiting for us. Bram and Flora Cowen, Paisley and Nan, Leith, Cairstina and their wee bairn, Mac and Bryn. There are tears and backslaps and laughter and groans.
The Cowen family is back together.
“Tempted to write a damn finale,” I say to Paisley.
She only gives me a wink. “Seems you already did.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tate
TakingFran into my home as my wife seems like the most natural thing in the world. It’s astounding how quickly things change.
Only last month, I felt alone. Helpless. I watched my Clan under Leith’s leadership and mourned the loss of my brother. Knew we had to find the writer and end the exposure of my family, but unsure of where to begin.
And now… now I have a wife. And not any wife, but Fran, the most beautiful, witty, intelligent woman I know.
“Now, then, Mr. Cowen, you’ve got that devilish broody look about you again,” she says, coming into the bedroom with a tray bearing a kettle and a steaming plate of eggs and sausage. “And that means trouble when you get all broody.”
“I’m not brooding.”
She slides the tray on the bedside table, then climbs in beside me. It’s then that I realize she’s only wearing one of my oversized tees, and it barely covers her full, gorgeous arse. I give her arse an appreciative squeeze, which makes her hiss in a breath.
“Jaysus, but you underestimate your strength, sir,” she says, then she squeals when I flip her over and pin her beneath me.
“Do I?” I easily capture her wrists between my fingers and hold her in place, my eyes blazing into hers. “I think I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She flushes. “Now that I won’t argue with.”
Soon, the tea grows cold, forgotten, as I divest her of what little clothing she wears, kiss her until she’s teeming with need and slick against my throbbing cock, then glide into her with a groan. Perfect. Fucking perfect.
I make love to her as the sun rises, her body supple and pliant beneath mine, until we both groan in pleasure then collapse, our skin damp, our breathing mingled.
She curls up onto my chest. “Seems like you can’t get your fill,” she says, placing her hand palm-down on my chest. “Which is fine with me.”
“How could I? You’re everything to me. I thought I lost you, not once, but many times over. I won’t ever take this for granted.”
“What?”
“Everything.”
The girls and Mum insist on a renewal of our vows.
“I thought people didn’t do that until like decades later?” Fran asks, but Nan corrects her.
