The MacTaggart Brothers Trilogy

by Anna Durand

  Rory moved my hand to his chest, over his heart, and rested his hand atop it.

  I ached for him, deep inside, all the time — for him and for me and for what we might have if he could give up hiding behind that stoic facade.

  "Listen," I said, "what you said really hurt me. I can't pretend it didn't, but I also realize this might be partly my fault."

  "It isn't. I'm to blame."

  "Let's call it ninety-ten, with you being ninety percent in the wrong." I wavered in my resolve for a brief moment before I added, "I never told you the real reason I married you. It's —"

  His phone rang. He excavated it from his hip pocket and sat up, relinquishing my hand as he answered the call with a gruff hello. He stared into empty space for a moment, his focus on the caller.

  I sat up too, squinting into the sunlight outside our little sanctuary.

  "Yes," he said at last, "whatever you need. I'll pay any added expense. Let me know as soon as you find him."

  Rory disconnected the call.

  "Everything okay?" I asked.

  "The investigator thinks he's found Sebastian Zegers. He needs to fly to Alaska. Your former love seems to be hiding in Anchorage."

  "Alaska? Sebastian hates the cold."

  "He's been in and out of psychiatric facilities for years, Emery. You don't know him anymore." Rory pulled me into an embrace, his cheek mashed against mine. "I want to fix this for you."

  "I'm okay, even if you don't find Sebastian."

  "But you worry the photos are still out there." He held me a little tighter. "What he did has affected you more than you think. I think it's why sleeping in separate bedrooms makes you feel like a concubine. I should've realized sooner."

  The rightness of his assessment trickled through me until it suffused my being and I had no choice but to admit to myself he was right. His ability to see into my soul could be disconcerting but having one person who understood me so well gave me a feeling of… security.

  He nuzzled my nose. "I have a call with a client, but I will see you for dinner. Won't I?"

  "You will." I kissed him. "Don't work too hard."

  We strolled back into the house hand in hand, kissing each other goodbye in the vestibule. Rory turned to leave but hesitated.

  "For the record," he said, "I don't pay you to fuck me. I'm paying you not to leave."

  He took two steps toward the stairs, but I called out, "Rory."

  Shoulders tensing, he paused to glance back at me.

  "I was trying to tell you earlier," I said, "before your investigator called. I didn't marry you for money or for sex."

  "You did it for the adventure and excitement."

  "Partly."

  His gaze, sharp and clear, pierced me to my very soul. "You were lonely."

  I drew back a little, struck by the rightness of his insight. Circumstances had taken my parents and my sister far away, I had no real friends, and my romantic relationships had either fizzled out or struck back with a vengeance. Though I hadn't voiced my loneliness, Rory had sensed it.

  Because he paid attention. Whatever his faults, however blind he might've been when it came to certain feelings, he'd listened to everything I said since the night we met and deduced the truth.

  "Yes," I said, "but that's not the main reason."

  "Why, then?"

  "Because you have potential."

  His shoulders relaxed, but he gave a slight shake of his head. "Potential for what?"

  "To break free of your past and become the best version of yourself. That's what I'm trying to do, to reclaim who I used to be, and that's what you want to do too."

  He grunted. "You may be disappointed with my potential."

  "Stop telling me you suck." I took a single step closer, never breaking eye contact. "I see you, Rory. Not just the parts you show everyone, but the pieces you try to hide. I see you."

  He watched me with that piercing intensity, and a shiver of profound awareness rattled through me. I longed to go to him, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him like nothing else existed in the world except us. I stayed put, though, uncertain of how he'd react to any display of affection after the day's events.

  "Perhaps what you see," he said, "is what you want, not what I am."

  With that, he slogged up the stairs to his office on the floor above.

  "That's crap," I shouted up the stairwell.

  He hesitated in his strides but then continued up the stairs.

  I made my way to the sitting room, where I'd left my laptop, and logged in for a video chat with Hadley. She had the day off, so I knew she'd be available. I got the bonus of talking to my twin nieces, which always brightened my day.

  Not that it needed brightening this afternoon. Rory wanted to find Sebastian so I would have peace of mind about those photos, and he accepted I didn't care about the money, even felt bad for suggesting I did. We had a long way to go, but our time under the arbor had given me hope. A future with Rory, a future beyond one year, no longer seemed like an impossible fantasy.

  If only I could convince him he wasn't a cold, sucky bastard undeserving of love.

  *****

  That evening, I loitered by my bed after undressing, my pink satin robe the only garment I wore. My discarded clothing lay in a lump on the bed. I secured the robe's sash around my waist, tying it into a little bow. Dinner with Rory had been… well, "fun" seemed like the most appropriate word. We'd made each other laugh and talked about our upcoming wedding, and Rory had regaled me with stories of the wacky MacTaggart clan, including the time when a teenage Lachlan had been caught with his pants down — literally — while showing his "dokey" to a pretty girl.

  I'd figured out "dokey" meant penis without Rory explaining. The details of the story made it clear. Ever since dinner, I kept picturing Lachlan with his pants around his ankles, but the image failed to arouse me. Only my husband could turn me on these days.

  I gathered my clothes in my arms.

  The door burst inward.

  I yelped and spun toward the door.

  Rory stalked into the room wearing only pajama bottoms, moving like a jaguar on the prowl, his jaw set and his gaze scorching into me.

  "What's up?" I asked, powerless to tamp down the desire sizzling through me.

  He bent over, wrapped his arms around my waist, and slung me around his shoulders with my feet hanging over his chest on one side and my head and arms dangling down the other side. My midsection was crushed to the back of his neck and head. His arms lashed me to his front.

  My clothes tumbled from my grasp, fluttering to the floor.

  "Hey!" I said. "What's with the fireman hold?"

  "I'm making it up to you." He strode out of my bedroom and down the hall to the door of the master suite.

  With my head upside down and the blood rushing to my brain, I struggled to focus on my inverted view of the world. The door to his room hung open, that much I could see.

  Rory walked inside and kicked the door shut.

  "Put me down," I said, "before I pass out from too much blood in my brain. I'm getting tired of staring at your pajamas. Is that silk? Sheesh, for a guy who doesn't care about money you sure like the luxury comforts, don't you?"

  "And you never stop blethering." He bent his knees and slid me off his shoulders, setting me on my feet. We'd wound up at the side of his bed, a king-size canopy number with golden-brown sheets that matched his eyes. "Are you angry I made another decision for you without asking?"

  "Not this time." I took note of the spacious room. "You want to have sex in here tonight? I'm surprised you let me into your bedroom."

  "Our bedroom." He snared the sash of my robe with a fingertip and tugged me closer. "You'll be sleeping here."

  "Just for tonight."

  "Forever."

  My hands floated up to his chest. Even my appendages couldn't resist his body. "Are you sure about this?"

  "Aye." He worked a
t the bow holding my sash in place, his big fingers fumbling to undo it. "I want to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you in the morning. Every day."

  I grinned. "Sharing a bed. Now that's progress."

  Head down, he focused on freeing my sash. "Progress toward what?"

  "You fulfilling your potential." I batted his hands away and liberated the sash, letting my robe fall open. "Before you know it, you'll be doing me in the daytime and on every surface in this house. Maybe outside too."

  He made a face. "Not certain I'll ever be like you."

  "Don't be like me. Be yourself — the real Rory, the one who desperately wants to come out and play."

  He swept his hands under my robe and pushed it off my shoulders. The garment tumbled to the floor, a billowing heap of satin pooling around my feet. "No sex tonight. Sleep only."

  I feigned a pout.

  As usual, he tried not to smile, though with less efficiency than normal. "It's been a trying day. Sleep is what we both need."

  "Have you browsed your menu of fantasies yet?" I skated my palms over his chest and down to the waistband of his pajama pants. "Pick a costume, and I'll make you forget about everything in the world except for me."

  "I'm sure," he said, grasping my hands, "but you were upset earlier, and it's clear you haven't slept well."

  "Didn't realize it was that obvious."

  He cupped my cheek. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

  "I know you are, and I forgive you."

  Those amber eyes studied me, softening and glowing like whisky left in the sun. "Get in bed, mo leannan."

  For once, I didn't argue or tease. I crawled under the covers and rested my head on one of the two pillows on the bed. Rory stripped off his pajama pants and joined me beneath the sheets. He lay on his back, one hand under his head, and raised the other arm in invitation. I cuddled up to him, my head in the crook of his shoulder, and he curled his arm around me.

  "Why did you get naked?" I asked. "Since we're not having sex tonight."

  "Hush." He stretched his arm out to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. "Time for sleep, Em, not talking."

  A tiny giggle escaped my lips. "You called me Em. The man who hates nicknames called me by my nickname."

  He grumbled.

  I snuggled closer. "Maybe tomorrow you could take a break from work and do something fun with me."

  He enfolded me in both his arms, his chin on the crown of my head. "Sleep, Emery."

  "Promise you'll wake me up before you go downstairs in the morning, every day."

  "If that will make you happy, I will."

  "Thank you. Night, Rory."

  He kissed the top of my head. "Good night."

  For the first time in our home, the first time since our wedding night, I slept in the arms of my husband.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  With the tips of my fingers, I swished the water inside the big claw-foot tub. My arms rested on the tub's rim, and I let the sloping wall of it support my head. The door to the ground-floor bathroom hung open so I could reflect on the sunset visible through the hallway windows. Streamers of clouds unfurled across the sky in shades of salmon and plum, inflamed by the glow of the setting sun. The warm water lapping around me and the beautiful vista lulled me into a semi-slumber, my lids too heavy to stay open.

  "Emery."

  I peeled my lids apart.

  Rory observed me from the doorway, his body blocking my vista. His gaze roved from my face down to the slopes of my breasts, and to the waterline where the rest of me vanished beneath a skin of slippery white suds.

  "A bubble bath?" he said, like I'd invented a new and bizarre use for a bathtub.

  I dunked my arms into the water and raised them above my head. Suds drizzled off my skin along with the water, but a smattering of them clung to me. As I laid my arms on the tub's rim, I bent one knee to raise it above the water level.

  "Bubbles are fun," I said, and hoisted my leg fully out of the water, my foot held high, toes wiggling. "Why not join me? It's warm and slippery in here."

  "I don't lie in tubs." His eyes tracked the suds as they slid off my foot and dribbled down my leg. "I have showers."

  "Mm, we could do that together too."

  His fingers curled into his palms. "We can fuck later. I need to speak with you in my office first."

  I pushed away from the tub's edge and stretched my arms out to him. "Give a girl a hand?"

  Rory scuffed across the room, took my hands, and helped me stand inside the tub. He drank in my nakedness for a sizzling moment, moistening his lips once, twice, three times.

  "Getting chilly," I said, though my stiffening nipples had less to do with the air temperature than his hungry gaze.

  He nabbed a towel from the rack nearby and wrapped it around my torso. Sized for him, the towel draped down to my knees. He tucked in one corner of the towel to secure it, slung his arms around me, and lifted me out of the tub. Soapy water sloshed onto the floor.

  Although my feet had hit the tile floor, he kept me bound in his arms.

  "Thanks for the assist," I said. "One of these days, I will get you in a tub with me."

  "Dry off," he said, "and meet me in the office."

  "Sure thing, Rory baby."

  He surrendered his hold on me, hurrying out the door.

  *****

  Ten minutes later, I lowered myself onto the chair in front of the massive desk. Rory sat with his arms on the desk, at either side of a tidy array of folders and papers. With his reading glasses perched on his nose, glare on the lenses obscured his eyes. A pen lay beside the assortment of stuff, its gold surface gleaming in the light from his desk lamp. The cone of light shed a glow out into the room that dwindled the further it stretched from the desk, leaving the corners of the office cloaked in shadows.

  I propped my bare feet on the desk in front of Rory, my ankles crossed.

  He glanced up from his papers. His gaze flitted to my naked feet and meandered up my legs. He reclined in his chair, his mouth crimped at one corner.

  "I said to get dressed," he told me in a patient tone. "A robe is not clothing."

  "Sure it is." I wagged my foot. "Besides, you said dry off, not get dressed."

  Rory fastened a hand over my energetic toes. His skin warmed my chilled foot. The hike from the bathroom up to the first floor had taken me across acres of cold wood floors, and I'd forgotten my slippers in the bedroom.

  When I shifted my butt to get a better position, the halves of my robe skidded off my legs, uncovering my skin up to my hips. If I hadn't hooked my ankles, he would've gotten a stellar view of the curly hairs on my mound.

  He rocked forward, tipped his head down, and peered at me over his glasses. "You are not a biddable wife, are you?"

  "Uh, no." I shot him an overly chipper smile. "But I give you great sex to make up for it."

  "Aye." He liberated my toes. "I have something for you."

  He held out a sheet of paper.

  I plunked my feet to the floor and strained to take the paper across the gap between us. As I perused the document, typed and organized with bullet points, I struggled to restrain my smile. His perfectionist tendencies delighted me, and oddly, made me want to crawl onto his lap and rub myself all over him like a cat in heat.

  "What is this?" I asked.

  "A list of my holdings."

  "That like stocks and bonds?"

  "No, it's an inventory of properties I own," he said. "I thought you should be made aware of this information."

  "I'm definitely aware," I said with a teasing smile. As I read over the list of properties again, I realized it was indeed an inventory of real estate. The bullet points outlined details of each property. "This isn't a huge list for a rich guy. An apartment in Edinburgh, the castle here, and —" I squinted at the sheet. "You own property on Skye? The island?"

  "Yes. It's a house."

  "Cool." I set the paper on my
lap. "How often do you go to Skye?"

  "I've been there once, to buy the property."

  "Once?" I couldn't understand this. If I had a house on a beautiful island, I'd go there as often as possible. Well, I kind of did have a house on Skye. "If you never go there, why did you buy it?"

  He shrugged one shoulder.

  "Don't try to convince me," I said, "you have no idea why you bought it. You don't want to tell me, that's all."

  Rory arranged and rearranged the folders and papers on his desk, avoiding eye contact. "You'll see the property soon enough."

  I bolted upright, hands on my knees, and the list of properties sailed down to the floor. "I will? When?"

  "During our sightseeing holiday."

  "Thank you, Rory." I clapped my hands, beaming at him. "Yay! I get to see the ocean and the famous Isle of Skye."

  He gave me that baffled look, the one he wore so often around me. "It's not as exciting as you seem to think."

  "Maybe to you." I swayed in my chair, my arms extended above my head, fingers fanned out. "This is awesome! Do you have any idea how long it's been since I took a vacation? Years. I mean, seriously, years. I should come over there and smack a big one on you."

  He didn't respond, likely because he was ogling my bosom.

  I glanced down.

  The sash of my robe had come undone, and the garment gaped open. My breasts jiggled every time I waved my upraised arms. I dropped my arms and started to pull my robe closed, but I hesitated when I glimpsed Rory's expression.

  Whoa, lava-hot.

  My breasts ached for his touch, his mouth, his agile tongue. I let go of the robe, and cool satin glided across my skin. I choked back a moan, but the sensation had heightened my arousal until it pulsated through my clitoris.

  Rory scrubbed his face with both hands, a tortured groan resonating from deep in his chest. "Ever since you mentioned it, I cannae stop thinking of — bod an Donais — taking you on this desk."