by Anna Durand
"She must've suffered a complete personality reversal," I tell Logan. "The woman is a menace."
To my sanity. To my libido. To everything I've worked so hard to conceal.
"Forget I called," I say. "Next time, I'll ring the psychic advice line."
"Oh, you donnae need to spend money on that. Call Kirsty instead."
"Wonderful. I can get advice from one of your barmy sisters. What is it everyone calls them? The Witches of Ballachulish?"
"Aye, that's right. They might be barmy, but they've got woman's intuition on their side." He pauses. "Maybe I should tell Cat to talk to them. She's the one who needs to crack you open and rummage around in there."
"Sounds lovely. Thank you for the pep talk, Logan. Next time, I'll just ring your cousin Rory and invite him to come thrash me with a caber."
"No, if you're wanting a thrashing, call me. I know how to batter you without breaking any bones."
"Yes, I'm sure you do. Goodbye, Logan."
I disconnect the call and slump in my chair.
Catriona walks into my office, again.
Before my brain has time to process what's happening, she races up to me, bends over, and kisses me. Her lips linger on mine for several seconds, then she pulls away. Her blue eyes hover so close I can see the faint lines of darker color in them.
Logan called her "the sweetest lass you'll ever meet," and I remember when she was that way. Her sweet smile. Her shyness. The way she blushed whenever I brushed hair away from her face or told her how beautiful and sexy she is. She's always been strong and known her own mind, but never before has Cat been so hostile.
Which is my fault.
The version of her staring at me from millimeters away doesn't seem likely to blush or smile shyly.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"You and I had sex, but you still haven't kissed me."
"I did that last night. And this morning."
She shakes her head slowly. "Not kissing me before we have sex is unacceptable."
Maybe I had ravished her body without bothering to kiss her first. Maybe she's right to call me a Limey Louse.
"I'd love to kiss you, Cat. But I'm too knackered."
She straightens and lays a hand on my cheek. "I know the old Alex is in there somewhere, and I'm going to dig him out no matter what it takes."
"You'll only get yourself dirty doing that, and you'll regret it later."
"I'm stronger than you think."
She heads for the door.
An inexplicable impulse seizes me, propelling me to leap out of my chair and hurry to catch her before she walks out the door. I grasp her arms and drag her into me for a kiss of total possession and raw need, spurred by something deep inside me that needs to prove her wrong. I wrap my arms around her waist, delving my tongue deep into her warm, slick mouth, powerless to fight my desire for her any longer. She tastes like everything sweet and good and pure in the world, like things I can never do more than sample for a brief moment.
She holds still at first, stiff and unyielding. Then her body wilts against me, and she responds to every lash of my tongue with a ravenous need that matches my own. We devour each other like we'll starve if we stop kissing, like the entire world might wither away and crumble to dust without our mouths fused.
Her arms come around my neck, and her fingers dive into my hair. She moans softly.
I stop kissing her but can't quite make myself let go of her body. "Was that better?"
"Aye," she says, sounding a bit breathless. "Much better." She gazes into my eyes with a look of wonder, like she's at last discovered my soul in them. "I know you're in there, Alex. It might take a long time to unearth you, but I won't give up until I do."
Catriona hurries out the door, leaving me alone in my office.
Unearth me? I don't like the sound of that. Having her here, in my town and in my home, seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. Now that I've gotten her here, I'm beginning to think I've made a catastrophic mistake. I can't command her to resign from the job I arranged for her, days before she's set to start. She won't do it even if I do command her to. I need to distance myself from her, though, as soon as possible.
If I don't, my past will come crashing down on us both.
Chapter Twelve
Catriona
Alex doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day, or on the drive back to his home. The giant house really does hunker in the woods like a cursed castle haunted by demons and evil spirits. Alex is nothing like that, so I can't understand why he wants to live in this place. I asked him that last night, but he avoided answering. Now I ask him that question again as we're walking through the front doors.
He's just shut the door and pauses with his hand still on the knob. "What?"
"I said why do you live here all alone in this depressingly dark house?"
"Because it suits me."
"No, it doesn't." I remember what Logan and Serena told me and ask, "What happened to your servants?"
"What makes you think I had any?"
I turn toward him, determined to see his face when he tries to not answer another question. "Logan and Serena told me. They also said that a few days later, when they came to your house again, the servants were gone. What happened?"
"Don't you want to tell me the term servants is hopelessly outdated and offensive?"
"Maybe it is, but that's irrelevant. I want to know why you got rid of them. Or did they quit?"
He strides across the foyer while he tells me, "I let them go. They were no longer needed."
I follow him into the main hallway. "Why weren't they needed?"
Alex freezes at the bottom of the staircase but doesn't glance back at me. "That is none of your concern."
"You can't keep sidestepping my questions forever. Eventually, you will have to tell me the truth."
He peeks at me over his shoulder, his lips ticking up at the corners. "You know how I am with the truth. I'm allergic to it."
"Your bum's oot the windae, Alex."
"No, it's quite firmly inside the house." He pats his erse. "See? Still attached and nowhere near a window."
"You know that phrase means you're talking nonsense. I used to say that to you a lot, since you frequently spout nonsense."
"I remember the phrase." He starts to walk up the steps. "Good night, Catriona."
"Aren't you eating dinner?"
"Not hungry."
I shake my head. "Oot the windae again, Alex. Avoiding me won't stop me from wanting answers."
He's halfway up the stairs now, seeming to ignore what I said.
So I try a trick I learned from my sister-in-law Emery and put two fingers in my mouth to whistle. It's so loud and piercing that I wince, and Alex pauses in his flight up the stairs. He doesn't look back, though, not even when he speaks.
"Give it a rest, Cat. You can harangue me more tomorrow."
I decide to do what he asks, this time. I want answers from him. I want the truth from him, about him, but I don't know how to make him cooperate. Maybe in the morning he'll feel more like talking.
Unlikely.
Since there's nothing else I can do tonight, I say, "All right. See you in the morning."
"Make yourself at home and eat whatever you like from the kitchen."
He reaches the second floor and disappears down the hall.
I make myself a light dinner and go to bed, but I can't sleep. I'm lying in Alex's house, in a bed he bought, covered by sheets he chose. Did he make this room for me? The other bedrooms aren't as dark as the rest of the house, but they lack the light and hope conveyed by everything in this room. Maybe I'm ascribing more meaning to the decor than I should. Maybe I want him to have made this room for me, hoping one day we would find each other again.
Aye, maybe I'm a damn eejit. Only an idiot would hope for the man who betrayed her to still love her.
Though I fall asleep sometime after two
a.m., I dream of Alex. The old Alex. I remember the good times and the way he used to be, more open and sweet, and the way he used to make me laugh. In my dreams, I don't get arrested because Alex never betrays me.
When I wake up, I'm suffering from a confused tangle of emotions. I need to understand why Alex did what he did back then and why he's acting the way he is now. I need answers. But the feelings I used to have for him resurface more and more the longer I stay in his orbit, especially so close to him in this house. And I still want him. He'll always be the sexiest man I've ever known, and based on that single encounter yesterday in the lecture hall, I already know he's still the best lover I've ever had.
Isn't that sad? The man who got me arrested owns a large piece of me, from my body down to my soul, even twelve years later.
While I get out of bed and dig through my bags to find the right clothes for today, I let my thoughts wander back to that terrible day when everything fell apart.
*****
I woke up that morning feeling wonderful, alive and happy and hopeful for the future, all because Alex had made love to me for hours last night. He whispered the sweetest words while he took my body and brought me to the heights of pleasure. None of the lads back home had a clue about how to give a woman true satisfaction.
None of them could compare to Alex Thorne.
He was lying beside me, asleep, with one arm draped over my hip.
Waking up like this, lying naked on my side facing him and watching him sleep, I experienced a sensation in my chest like I'd sucked in a huge breath and held it. Alex took my breath away, for certain.
I sneaked out of bed without waking him, slipped into a dressing gown, and headed for the kitchen. Our loft had two enormous picture windows that overlooked the town and the campus two blocks away. When I'd come to America, a new and alien place for me, I could never have imagined how things would turn out. I was happy, so happy, thanks to Alex.
While I cooked up a big breakfast for us, I hummed along to the radio and imagined what our wedding might look like. Alex hadn't proposed yet, but I had a feeling he was about to any day.
Catriona Thorne. I liked the sound of it.
A series of swift, powerful knocks reverberated through the front door.
I flinched, wondering who would be so anxious to see us at this time of the morning. Better find out. I abandoned my cooking and rushed to the door.
Alex sprinted out of the bedroom just as I swung the door open.
Two police officers stood there, faces somber.
"Catriona MacTaggart?" one of them asked.
"Aye, that's me." Had I parked in a loading zone by accident yesterday? The signs weren't that clear.
The officer who'd spoken brought out handcuffs. "You're under arrest for suspicion of smuggling antiquities. You have the right to remain silent…"
While he recited the Miranda warning and snapped the cuffs onto my wrists, I stared numbly at the officer and his partner. Arrest? Smuggling? What the bloody hell was going on?
"You've got it wrong," Alex said, coming up beside me. "You don't want to arrest her."
The officer flashed Alex an odd look, something like anger mixed with trepidation. "Stay out of this, Dr. Thorne. We have our orders."
Alex's eyes narrowed, and his lips compressed. "You've got it wrong."
He spoke the words in a deliberate and severe tone, but the officers paid no attention.
"She's coming with us," the officer who'd spoken to Alex said. "You can visit her in county lockup."
"At least let her get dressed," Alex snarled.
"Can't. Got orders." The first officer, the one who'd handcuffed me, aimed a knife-sharp glare at Alex. "Orders from the top."
"You are making a mistake that you will regret."
"Doubt it, pal. You're not as smart as you think."
I had no idea what they were talking about or why Alex seemed to know these two men.
They hauled me out of the apartment in nothing but a dressing gown and shoved me into the back of their car. I sat there, numb to the core and too stunned to think or speak, staring through the cage-like mesh that separated me from the front seat. What had just happened? This made no sense at all.
Suspicion of smuggling antiquities?
I went through the rigmarole of arrest in a dazed state, hardly aware of being fingerprinted and photographed. Nothing broke through the haze until I finally sat down on a bare, uncomfortable bed inside a cell.
Arrested. Me. For smuggling.
What would my family think?
Tears burned down my cheeks, flowing faster and faster until I was sobbing. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. The sobbing faded away, but the tears kept coming. My eyes grew hot and gritty. My stomach became a churning cesspool, and acid crept up into my throat, souring my mouth.
How many hours did I sit there crying? I had no clock to measure it by.
I dropped my head onto my knees.
A while later, someone banged on the metal bars.
I jumped and looked up at the officer, who still held the baton he'd used to bang on the cell bars. He was the one who'd spoken to Alex in our apartment.
"Your boyfriend's here," he said. "Damn, he's got some cojones, doesn't he? That asshole must have nerves of steel to do what he just did for you."
What had Alex done? I didn't understand anything since the moment I'd opened the door of our apartment. I couldn't summon my voice, so I simply watched the officer unlock the cell door and open it.
"Come on," he said, sounding annoyed. "You're going home."
I shuffled out of the cell, following him down a corridor and through a hefty, locked door into the waiting area.
Alex was standing there. Stoic. Stone-faced. His hands were clenched into fists, the only sign of emotion he gave away.
"Here she is," the officer said, giving me a shove toward Alex. The officer looked at me. "Alex Thorne is seriously bad news. You'd be better off running as fast as you can from him, before he drags you down into the quicksand, for good next time."
"Shut up," Alex hissed. He flung an arm around my shoulders and moved us toward the exit. But he threw a cold glare over his shoulder at the officer. "You'll regret this, the lot of you."
We hurried out of the police station to Alex's car.
He turned to face me, tugged my dressing gown closed more securely, and ran his hands up and down my arms. "Christ, you're barely dressed. You must be freezing."
Gooseflesh had popped up all over my arms, but I didn't notice the chill in the air. That numbness still gripped me, from the inside out.
Alex pulled me into his arms for a quick, firm hug. Then he kissed my forehead and helped me into the car. Once he'd gotten in, he dragged a fleece throw from the backseat and draped it over me.
Neither of us spoke on the ride home.
Back in our apartment, Alex led me into the bedroom and insisted I shower and get dressed. I did it by rote, forgetting every movement as soon as I'd done it, and shuffled out into the living room fifteen minutes later.
Alex was sitting in one of the armchairs by the windows, elbows on his thighs, head down.
I dropped onto the sofa. Though the numbness had dissipated, I still felt disconnected from reality, like I was watching events unfold on a television screen rather than participating in them.
"Bloody hell, Cat," Alex said. He shoved his hands through his hair and threw himself backward into the chair. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
"How?" Speaking that solitary word seemed like an enormous effort of will.
Alex studied me for a moment, and in his eyes, I glimpsed a maelstrom of emotions. Fear. Anger. Pain. Other things I couldn't decipher.
Never had I seen him so…distraught.
He did "distraught" in typical Alex fashion, concealing the depths of his distress and letting only the surface emotions show. How could I call his reaction typical? I'd never seen
him like this before. Alex was always calm and rational, passionate in bed but otherwise in control, even when he laughed.
And yet I loved him. So much.
"How is it your fault?" I asked.
"It's complicated," he said carefully. "The details aren't important right now. Just know that you are not going to jail. I will not allow that happen. And your arrest record will be expunged."
The clouds in my mind began to clear while I sat there looking at him, at the man I loved and trusted. And I suddenly realized one vital fact. "You know why I was arrested."
"It doesn't matter now." He stood and closed his eyes, holding still for a moment as if he needed to consider his next move carefully. Then he knelt in front of me. "I'm not going to explain any of this. You'll either trust me to take care of things, or you won't."
"That's not good enough, Alex. I deserve the truth. I demand it."
He stared at me, his eyes clear and his demeanor calm. "I can't do that, Catriona."
"Yes, you can." I leaned forward until our noses almost touched and looked straight into his eyes. "Either tell me what is going on, or I will walk out that door and never come back."
Alex kept his gaze on mine, without blinking. "Do what you need to do."
"Dammit, Alex." I slapped my hands on his chest and shoved hard, but he stayed exactly where he was. "Why won't you talk to me? All I want is the truth."
"And that's the one thing I can't give you. Not today. Maybe never."
I gaped at him, searching his eyes and his expression for some sign of the man I knew. It was like he'd mutated into a different form of life that mimicked humanity but was completely alien to me. Whose eyes was I gazing into? Who was this man?
Not Alex. Not anymore.
A chill rattled through me, raising the hairs all over my body and freezing them stiff.
"Then there's only one thing left to say," I told him. "Goodbye, Alex."
He rose and stepped back, giving me room to walk away.
I gathered clothes into a suitcase and carried it to the door. As I laid my hand on the knob, I glanced back at Alex. He stood exactly where he'd been when I rushed into the bedroom to pack.