There With You

by Samantha Young

“Don’t give a fuck? Didn’t think I’d care?” he whispered harshly, feeling the unfamiliar urge to punch his brother.

  He received a hard warning look. “I’m not the one you’re angry with.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re angry with yourself, you hardheaded prick.” Lachlan cut him a dark look. “A decade of happiness is better than a lifetime of emptiness.”

  Thane tensed, remembering those words.

  “That’s what you said to me,” Lachlan pushed. “Not even eight months ago. When I came to you about Robyn, you advised me to face my fears and just be with her. Not very good at following your own advice, are you?”

  “You love Robyn.”

  “And by that, I suppose you mean you don’t love Regan?”

  Sweat dampened Thane’s palms and suddenly his bow tie was too tight. “We don’t make sense.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it. I have never seen you happier than I have these past few months. I suspected something was between you but couldn’t be sure. What I did know was whether you had given in to your attraction to Regan, you were more content with her in your life than you have ever been. Ever, Thane.”

  The truth in his words was soul-destroying. “I have to protect Eilidh and Lewis. If Regan was older, ready to settle down, then it would be a different story. It would be a calculated risk that anyone takes when they’re in love. But Regan’s too young. Right now, it’s just asking for Eilidh and Lewis to be hurt.”

  “And asking for you to be hurt, am I right?” Lachlan glared at him. “Or I’m wrong. Because you can’t love her if you don’t trust her. And you obviously don’t trust Regan and her feelings for you.” His brother shook his head in disappointment and strode away.

  As he opened the door to leave, he glanced back at Thane and said grimly, “One day you’re going to realize how in love she was with you, that you betrayed her with your mistrust and destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you since the kids came along. And I will be there for you on that day because you’re going to need me. But Christ, Thane, you could save yourself a world of misery by just pulling your head out of your arse before it’s too late.”

  Thane flinched, not at the slam of the door as his brother departed in frustration, but at Lachlan’s words.

  They held an air of prophecy that filled him with dread.

  Tonight should have been a good night. The beginning of a new year, as Lachlan had said, after a horrifying one. A night to move on. His children were safe in their beds at home, Sean McClintock was out of their lives for good as per the correspondence Thane had received from the arsehole’s lawyer, the pall of Eilidh’s paternity no longer hung over him, and a fresh start beckoned.

  Except he was still fucking miserable.

  “Now what could you possibly have going on in your life to make you brood so?”

  Thane looked up from his glass of whisky at the husky, upper-crust voice. Angeline Potter, current young darling of the British film industry, leaned against the castle library door with a champagne flute in her hand.

  He hadn’t ever conversed with her, only knew her from her films and the odd sighting here and there at the estate and in the village. “Nothing,” he replied, in no mood for pleasantries. “Just wanted to be alone.”

  Not taking the hint, she sashayed into the room, swinging her slender hips. “I know the feeling. That’s why I found my way here. It’s my favorite room at Ardnoch.” She settled into the armchair opposite him and crossed one leg over the other so the slit in her blue dress revealed her pale, lovely leg from stiletto-encased toe to upper thigh. Angeline gave him a sultry but hard look. “My partner disappeared with Lizette Mayfield ten minutes ago. One guess what they’re getting up to.”

  At her bitter tone, Thane murmured, “I would think Angeline Potter wouldn’t have to put up with a cheating boyfriend.”

  “Oh, we’re just casual. We’re working on a film trilogy together, and the director asked that we pretend to be more serious than we are, you know, for publicity. But you’d think”—she pouted—“that the arsehole could get through one evening without fucking someone else. As if he’d ever be allowed to step onto this estate if it weren’t for my membership. And he goes and fucks Lizette Mayfield of all people.” She lowered her voice. “I will never understand how she was granted membership.”

  Thane raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh. I don’t mean to disparage your brother. I just think he’s too kind sometimes.” She leaned forward, eyeing him in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted. “I haven’t seen the youngest brother, but it seems the handsome gene runs strong in the Adair men. I met Brodan in Cannes once. He’s a rather delicious specimen, isn’t he? I like my men broody, though.” She grinned flirtatiously. “That American of Lachlan’s is certainly a lucky woman. Are you married?”

  “No.” The word was like ash on his tongue. Not in the mood to be Angeline Potter’s distraction for the evening, he stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, it will be midnight soon.”

  She gaped at him, as if shocked he was giving up the chance to be with her in private. As he marched away, he heard the rustle of her dress and the click-clack of her heels as she called, “Wait for me. I don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

  Wanting to run from her was completely incongruous to the way Thane’s father had raised him, so though he didn’t slow down, he didn’t run off either. Back in the reception hall, they found many of the guests had donned coats and jackets and were making their way outside again, this time for the fireworks display. It was almost midnight.

  “There you are!” Lachlan called to him from the main door. He gestured for Thane to hurry.

  “I don’t have a coat,” Angeline whined, reminding him she was at his side. “But I don’t want to miss the display.”

  The gentleman in him shrugged out of his kilt jacket, despite how irritating he found her. He placed it around her shoulders, and she clutched it, staring up at him with wonder in her big Bambi eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, apparently amazed. Then she grinned and looped her arm through his to snuggle into his side.

  Oh, wonderful.

  Lachlan glowered at him as they approached, and Thane threw his brother an exasperated “I don’t know how this happened” look.

  Outside, he couldn’t shake her, and as they wandered along with the guests to find a spot to stand on the driveway, he saw Robyn with his sister and Mac. She turned and caught sight of him. Her lips stretched into a smile that faltered when she saw who was on Thane’s arm. Her features hardened, and she glared at him as fiercely as his brother just had.

  Fantastic.

  Sighing, he looked down at Angeline, who now rested her head on his shoulder. How had this happened? “Don’t you want to find your … friend … before the clock strikes midnight?”

  “I’m very happy where I am.” She lifted her head and squeezed his biceps. “You feel like a man. He feels like a boy. I like the difference.”

  Her words struck so close to something Regan had said to him many months before that he flinched and looked away. “I’m not on the market.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t married. Involved?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m harming no one by keeping you company.” She squeezed his arm again. “Loosen up, darling. There’s nothing worse than standing alone at midnight on Hogmanay.”

  “I’m not alone.” Thane looked over at Robyn, Arro, and Mac to see Lachlan had joined them. Where was Regan? He searched the crowd of guests and staff for her.

  “Well, I am.”

  Angeline’s forlorn tone brought his eyes back to her. She gave him a rueful, melancholy smirk. “I’m alone. I don’t want to be alone at midnight.”

  As if on cue, the piper quietened the crowd with a blow of his mournful instrument. Then Lachlan’s voice boomed into the night. “Ten! Nine! Eight …”

  Everyone’s voices joined him in the countdown, but Thane was too busy cra
ning his neck in search of Regan. It was too shadowy to see much farther than a few feet, even with the lights along the side of the castle building offering reprieve from the darkness.

  “Two! One! Happy New Year!”

  Fireworks exploded into the sky above them right on time, illuminating everyone in pops and flashes of rainbow-hued light.

  A hard yank on his waistcoat brought his head down, and Angeline slammed his mouth onto hers. Stunned into stillness, the damn woman took advantage and wriggled her tongue past his lips to lick at him. At his lack of response, she released him abruptly, scowling. “Well, kiss me back! It’s New Year’s!” She jerked him toward her again, but Thane’s gaze was drawn beyond her.

  His heart stopped in his chest.

  Illuminated beneath the raucous bangs of the fireworks, Regan stood in her uniform, staring at him and Angeline in absolute horror.

  No!

  Her eyes moved from the woman in his arms, the woman draped in his kilt jacket, to him.

  And she looked at him with such hatred, Thane wanted to die.

  “Regan.”

  She whirled, her ponytail whipping a guest in the face, and pushed through the crowd.

  “Thane?” Angeline pulled at him.

  He disentangled from her grip, shoving her aside as gently but as firmly as he could, before hurrying after Regan.

  “Where are you going?” Angeline called petulantly at his back.

  Thane could kill the woman!

  And himself for being too much of a fucking gentleman to tell her to piss off!

  A flash of copper-red hair beneath the lights of the fireworks caught his eye, and he saw Regan dash into the castle.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” he muttered impatiently, his heart banging in his chest.

  The deafening display in the night sky agitated his pulse even more.

  There was no one in the reception hall when he finally made it inside. The sound of everyone breaking into “Auld Lang Syne,” as was Scottish tradition after midnight, irritated Thane. Didn’t they know not everyone was in a celebratory fucking mood now?

  “Regan!” he shouted to be heard over them.

  Desperation and fear shuddered through him.

  Where would she go?

  He knew the answer before he’d even finished the thought. Storming through the reception hall, Thane hurried to where he’d hidden for the past few hours before Angeline Potter found him and derailed his whole bloody evening.

  Striding into the library, his pulse eased just a little as Regan spun from her spot near a bookshelf to face him. Her usually warm chestnut eyes were flat and dark.

  “Why did you follow me?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Shouldn’t you be out there enjoying the tongue gymnastics of a BAFTA Award–winning actor?”

  He winced at the way her voice cracked with emotion. “That wasn’t me.” He approached her slowly and paused as she retreated. “Regan, she kissed me.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t see you pushing her off. It must have been such a hardship for you.”

  “It was, actually,” he growled. Her tongue was like a slug.

  “I’m sure she thought her kiss was welcome, what with you giving her your jacket to wear and letting her snuggle all over you.” She spat snuggle like it was a dirty word, the flatness in her eyes replaced by angry fire.

  Thane could deal with the fire. Fire was good. It was emotion. Flatness meant she no longer cared. And that, as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t deal with. Staring at her, her chest heaving with agitation, her lips trembling with emotion … God, he missed her. It had only been a week, and yet it felt like months since he’d held her.

  “I gave her my jacket because she was cold. End of story.” He moved toward her again, and although Regan didn’t retreat, she eyed him warily.

  “It’s none of my business, I guess. You’ve made that clear. I just thought you’d have more class than to move on to someone else less than a week after we broke up. She’s my age, you know.”

  “I’m not moving on to bloody Angeline Potter!” he yelled, beyond frustrated now.

  “Like I said, none of my business. Just like I’m none of yours.”

  Yes, you bloody are. He stalked ever closer to her, eyeing the stupid cravat Lachlan made his staff wear, his fingers curling at the thought of ripping it off her throat so he could cover her skin in kisses and feel the throb of her pulse beneath his lips.

  “You can kiss or sleep with whoever you want,” Regan continued with a shrug. “Just like I can.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he bit out harshly.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I would. Hell, Jared McCulloch has made it more than clear that he’d like me in his bed.”

  Jealousy and rage flared through him as if she’d just dropped a match on a pool of petrol at his feet. “That pup?” He closed the distance between them, forcing her to tilt her head to hold his gaze. The image of Regan naked beneath McCulloch’s grandson nauseated him. “You’d only be doing it to fuck me out of your system, and you’d think of me the whole time.”

  Devastation leaked through Regan’s defiance, cooling his anger. “True,” she whispered. “I’d wish it were you instead of him … but it wouldn’t change the fact that it would be him inside me. His cock, his lips, his hands, his—”

  Thane hauled her against him, swallowing the words he couldn’t stand to hear. His kiss wasn’t gentle or gentlemanlike in the least. Holding her by the nape so she couldn’t move, Thane kissed her like he wanted to fuck her. Hard, ravaging, deep. Pushing her toward the bookshelves, trapping her against them, pulling at her thigh to spread her so he could fall between her legs. The roles were reversed, he thought, a tickle of amusement softening his furious lust. He had easy access beneath his kilt, but Regan was in trousers.

  Never leaving her mouth, barely giving her time to breathe, wanting her to be overwhelmed by him, Thane fumbled for the zipper on her uniform trousers.

  He’d barely touched it when she pressed her hands against his chest. At first, he thought she was holding on to him.

  But then a definite shove filtered through the fog of desire, and he released her quickly, stumbling away.

  His chest heaved as he panted. His lips were as swollen as Regan’s looked. Curling his hands into fists, Thane had to force himself to stay still, to not fall on her like a starving man again.

  That became easier when he realized she was crying.

  “Mo leannan,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching for her.

  “Don’t!” Regan pushed away his arm and rushed past.

  “Regan!”

  She whirled, looking so young and so … lost.

  His heart thumped painfully.

  “Do you know?” Regan asked, half yelling, half crying. “Do you know what it’s like to love someone this much and have them only want this one thing from you?”

  No, she couldn’t think that. He shook his head to explain, but she cut him off as she continued, “And I was going to let you. I was going to let you screw me just so you could turn around and abandon me, again. Am I right? If we had sex right now, it didn’t mean you were giving us a real shot, did it?”

  Shame flooded him, making his skin too hot, too tight.

  She laughed bitterly. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Regan—” He had to clear his throat; her name came out like he had gravel in there. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets about me.”

  “Too late,” she bit out, backing away toward the door. “Because I already regret you. I regret every kiss I ever gave you, every piece of my heart … because as precious as every kiss and every piece of me is … you threw them away like I was nothing. And I’m the idiot who listened to everyone who said I should stay and fight for what I want. To show you I’m not going anywhere. But it will never matter, will it? I’ll never matter to you like you matter to me.”

  Everything within him roared in outrage at her words, but it was like a raging fire bottled by fear. Befo
re he could wrestle it open, Regan turned on her heel and fled.

  Her last words rang in his ears, over and over and over. Thane stumbled back, hitting a wall, and he slid down it until he felt the floor beneath him. Drawing up his knees, burying his head in his hands, Thane fought back his frustration.

  Why couldn’t he just let the past go?

  Regan wasn’t Fran.

  She was loyal to a fault.

  And she loved Eilidh and Lewis. She would never hurt them.

  “I’ll never matter to you like you matter to me. I’ll never matter to you like you matter to me. I’ll never matter to you like you matter to me.”

  “You don’t know how wrong you are,” Thane whispered hoarsely.

  Get up, then. Get up and go after her.

  He wasn’t sure how long he sat there debating before he heard his name.

  Lifting his head, Thane found Lachlan towering over him. His big brother lowered to his haunches, his kilt kicking out over his knees with the movement.

  “What’s going on?” Lachlan’s brow creased with concern.

  “I’m a coward.”

  Lachlan sighed.

  “I’m a selfish arsehole. Eilidh and Lewis ask for her every day. Eils cries at night before bed, wondering where she is.”

  “And you?”

  “I feel like I’m missing a limb.”

  Lachlan sighed. “Then what’s stopping you? She’s yours as soon as you give her the right words. I’m frankly confused by it,” his brother teased. “She can do so much better than you.”

  “Fuck off,” Thane snapped, not in the mood.

  Lachlan grinned. “Problem is, she’s crazy about you. Any dafty can see it. She was watching you like a hawk all night. Roman Bright was trying to get into her pants, and she was so busy searching the room for you, she didn’t have a clue. It only made him try harder.” His lips pursed. “I’ll need to have a word with him. Remind him of club rules.”

  Thane’s gut churned, not just at the thought of Bright pursuing Regan but of what she’d witnessed with Angeline. “I hurt her tonight.”

  His brother’s amusement fled. “I know. But you can make it up to her. Christ, I had to fly all the way to Boston to grovel on my knees to get Robyn back. All you have to do is get up, get in the car with Jock, and follow the GPS tracker on Regan’s SUV.”