by SJ Molloy
“Whatever one doesn’t have the beast in it.” He points his walking stick towards Devon. I give Devon a sympathetic smile; it’s going to be a long trip for him.
Short straw.
Lloyd travels closely in front, and Devon tailgates behind us on the A9. I try to close my eyes to have a nap, but there are too many things going through my mind. I ask Lucca to make a stop near Blair Atholl in Perthshire en route to Morayshire so we can allow Doris to stretch her legs.
We don’t get that far. I need to stop at Dunblane because I’m so nauseous and hot and about to be sick.
After a restroom break, some water, and letting Doris out, we’re back on the road. I switch the AC up full, and Lucca watches me curiously but still keeps a skilful eye on the road. I assure him I’m fine but he’s not convinced and says I look very pale.
I do feel awful.
Our next stop is Pitlochary, where Lucca and I walk for ten minutes in the park with Doris for fresh air while Devon and Mr. Carlin stretch their legs and bring back some tea and coffee. I have to confiscate a slab of Scottish tablet from Mr. Carlin as his blood sugars would be sky high, although I could be doing with a little pick me up myself.
One bite hasn’t perked me up at all; it’s only contributed to my sickly feeling. I drop it back in the wrapper, feeling a shade greener.
I’m exhausted and still queasy. I’ve not had travel sickness in a long time, and it’s not even a long journey. Maybe it’s nerves or stress catching up with me, potentially both. I’ll be fine when I lie down. Hopefully.
I manage to doze off momentarily, despite my stomach churning. Suddenly, I jolt upright,
“Oh God.” I put my hand over my mouth, barely able to hold back the threatening vomit in my throat. Lucca calls Lloyd on the hands-free signalling to pull over. We pull over at a lay-by and just manage to throw the door open in time. I lean out the car hurling at the side of the road.
Bloody hell. How embarrassing. Beam me up.
Lucca rubs my back but is agitated because I’m feeling so poorly. I lean back against the car and feel soothed when Lucca’s hands wrap around my waist to pull me into him, distracting me from my sickness, but we can’t stay here forever, we need to drive.
We’re just outside Kingussie and I ask him to stop at Aviemore, knowing it’s not too far, and I’ll get something from the chemist and an energy drink. The journey has taken us much longer to arrive at this point with the added stops.
Doris and Mr. Carlin are extremely fractious, and my granny and mum have called a handful of times. All I want to do is curl up and sleep, or die, maybe both … in no particular order.
We drive through Boat-Of-Garten and into Nethybridge so I can pick up some meat from the butcher’s that I know my grandpa loves to barbecue. The smell of the fresh meat turns my stomach. I step outside for air and have Lucca pay for it once I’ve ordered.
I can’t get out the door quick enough then think it wasn’t such a good idea going to the butcher’s after all. Lucca exits and frowns at me as I lean against the wall taking deep breaths.
“Doc, I think you are coming down with something,” he says, placing an attentive hand to my forehead. I do feel feverish and lethargic. He’s possibly right. It could even be a side effect from getting the implant inserted.
We wind up the long, stony, uphill road separated by paddocks and fields and spectacular mountain views, pulling up outside Granny and Grandpa’s large, white cottage.
It has five bedrooms that will accommodate everyone, and there are plenty of other rooms, some cosy, some practical. It’s a beautiful house. They inherited from my great-grandfather, which they used as a holiday home and rented it out while still living in Aberdeen. It’s only since they’ve retired that they come here to stay.
“It is wonderful. Very lovely and in a desirable location. The views are stunning,” Lucca says, admiring the Cairngorms.
“Yes, they are. We had lots of lovely, long summers here during our teenage years. Scotland is truly bonnie. I love it in October when the leaves are falling. If we’re fortunate enough to get an Indian summer, it’s very picturesque with autumn colours, and in the winter when the snow falls it’s like an image from a postcard—a winter wonderland.” I tilt my head and admire the scenery.
Lucca takes my hand and leans over to kiss my lips and stroke them with the pad of his thumb. “Are you okay?” he asks. Filling my lungs with the Highland air, I’m most definitely not okay, but I need very much to prove I am.
“Yes, let’s do this.”
Lucca opens my door and before I step outside, he kisses my hot forehead.
“I love you. It is going to be fine … and, baby, you are a terrible liar.” A wicked smile spreads across his charming face.
Chapter 29
Mother’s Intuition
The huge, aged oak tree outside the front of the house has a wooden seat built all the way around it and there sitting on the bench is Grandpa playing his beloved harmonica. His moothie.
My heart melts.
I lift Lucca’s hand, placing a kiss on it, and walk towards his seat. Alone. His back is to us and he’s looking out over the sprawling Highland landscape. He doesn’t turn around because he knows I’m here.
“Come here, Apple.” Hearing his words, my eyes fill with tears, pining for him. I sit on his knee and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shrinking shoulder.
“I’ve missed you,” I say with a lump in my throat, feeling very vulnerable.
“And I have missed you. I think about you every day. Welcome home, kid.” He kisses my cheek and temple and hugs me tightly. I nestle into him and close my eyes, forgetting the world around about me. Opening my eyes, I savour the charming natural views of the Grampians, watching the sun shimmer over the River Spey in the distance.
After what seems like hours, I whisper, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“I can’t wait. Apple, do you love him?”
“Yes, more than I can even confess.”
“Does he love you?”
“Yes, he does. He’s my whole world. You’ll love him, Grandpa, I promise.” I’ve no doubt in my mind that Lucca loves me as much as I love him.
“Well, I love him already, Apple, if you promise. That’s enough for me. Let’s go and get acquainted.”
I reach for his hand. “Grandpa, can you help me?”
He takes my face in his ageing hand. “Yes, of course what do you need?”
“Speak to Granny and my mum. I can’t feel suffocated. They need to let me breathe and treat me like an adult. Lucca doesn’t want to be separated from me. He wants to share a room with me. I’d like us to stay together, you know.”
“Oh,” he adds. I search his face, begging with my eyes, albeit very embarrassed.
“I’m asking for your approval.”
“Apple, they love you and want what’s best for you as we all do. I promise I’ll speak to them so they give you space. As for the room sharing, ordinarily I wouldn’t approve but under the circumstances I’m sure it can be arranged. Consider it done.” He smiles, brown eyes soft and gentle.
“I love you, Grandpa.”
Kissing his cheek, we turn around and realise everyone is watching us. Biting my lip, I’m drawn to Lucca’s soft smile and loving blue eyes. It’s all I can focus on as he watches my moment with Grandpa. I don’t even notice my mum right away, who appears to have tears running down her cheeks. She drops her dish towel and runs across the grass towards me. She throws her arms around my neck, sobbing hysterically.
Love.
Pure love.
The unrest in Lucca’s eyes has ripped through my heart, and seeing my mum broken like this just confirms to me that I’m going to be strong for him … for her.
“Honey, you’re here, you’re here. You’re really okay,” she chants. I close my eyes and stroke her long, brown, soft, flowing locks the way Lucca does with me, and I rock her in my arms.
“Mum, I’m okay. It’
s going to be fine. Shhh, please don’t cry. I want you to stay strong. We have a lot of catching up to do, so don’t go fretting. Let’s just enjoy our time together.” She hiccups, snorts, and grips me tighter.
A loving smile spreads across Lucca’s face reaching his eyes, and I notice Grandpa has wrapped his arm comfortingly around Granny, who looks like she’s distressed and torn watching her family so wounded and wilted.
I release my mum’s grip, stretching and stepping back, holding her hands at arm’s length to admire her.
She truly is a vision of beauty.
“You look well, Mum. Really great.” Other than her teary, puffy eyes, she looks stunning. Her beautiful, dark hair tumbles down her back. Her olive skin glows, and she still has that amazing figure and big, sweet, hazel-brown eyes.
She has on slim fitting jeans and a simple cream blouse and wears little pearl earrings and a string of pearls around her neck. She has always been naturally beautiful, and despite her traumas she’s aged extremely well.
Grandpa says such beauty comes with a price and curses that it played a part in her kidnapping. Grandpa has always worried about me, as I look very much her younger image. He always said I would melt and break hearts like my mum did.
It’s unfortunate she’s never found romance or love in her later years. Her emotional instability makes it difficult. She deserves some love and could make someone very happy; she just needs some light, as Lucca would say.
She’s elegant and flawless, and I wonder how she manages to look so healthy despite her battling depression all these years.
I love my mum more than words can describe. Such beauty and such pain. I just wish I could take her pain away.
Hand in hand, we join the group. I hug and kiss Granny and pet the two other dogs and realise Lucca has been watching us and patiently waiting to be introduced.
“Mum, Grandpa, I’d like you to meet Lucca. Lucca, this is my mum Grace, and my grandpa.” I smile lovingly at both Mum and Grandpa and deliberately allow grandpa to choose what he would like to be referred to from Lucca, giving him the same courtesy that Mr. Carlin likes. Grandpa is first to welcome Lucca while Mum cautiously eyes him up and watches his every move and expression. She’s being circumspect.
“So, young man, you have stolen my Apple’s heart?” Grandpa reaches for Lucca to shake his hand. Lucca clasps his hand firmly around Grandpa’s then customary kisses both cheeks.
“I hope so because she has certainly stolen mine.”
He glances over to me, reaching his hand out. My heart melts watching my two favourite men in the world bond. I take Lucca’s hand, linking our fingers, and he kisses the side of my head.
“She is very special, which of course you know. I love your granddaughter, Mr. Robertson, and will take excellent care of her.”
“I know you will, son. Please call me Alexander or Alec,” he says with warmth in his eyes and softness to his voice.
I look up adoringly into Lucca’s eyes as my mum looks into mine. She’s paying close attention to both of us and softening her gaze, watching our intimacy, whereas moments ago she appeared scared and dubious. Hopefully she’s fully tolerant and accepting my relationship with Lucca.
I leave Grandpa and Lucca talking with Mr. Carlin while I speak with my mum and Granny. They gush in awe over my engagement ring but frown noticing the other diamond jewellery I’m wearing. “Mum, I know what you are thinking. Lucca bought me these, they were a gift,” I say, touching the pendant on my neck.
“Hmmm …” She presses her lips together.
“Are you okay, you seem a little tense?” I ask, rubbing her arm and notice she’s nervously twirling the pearl earrings between her fingers.
“I’m just overwhelmed. It will take me some time to get used to this. It’s a shock because I’ve never seen you with a man before. Casey has reassured me I have nothing to worry about but, seeing you … it’s just got me thinking. Until I get to know Lucca myself, I don’t know how trusting I will be.” She looks at Granny, who pats her gently on her back.
“Mum, I get it … I do but I would like you to try. Please try for me,” I beg, staring into her eyes. She forms a smiles and nods. Sighing, I pull my hair away from neck and shake it out, feeling very hot. Then Granny feels my forehead.
“Alexis, sweetheart, you look pale and are very hot. Are you coming down with something?” She purses her lips and narrows her eyes on me.
“I’m fine. I was a little travel sick, and I think I have a bug.” Lucca overhears and discreetly glances towards me with his own concerned eyes. Mum smiles watching Lucca gaze sympathetically towards me.
Lloyd and Devon have also been introduced to my family but are now doing a sweep of the house and grounds having greeted Nate, the security operative assigned to my mum. Lucca hired Nate from the same agency on the same day I got my own Men in Black. Cameron, of course, refused security. He’s more than capable of defending himself being in the forces.
“Clear.” Lloyd signals to Lucca.
“Shall we go in and get settled?” Granny asks. We follow her in, Lucca once again taking my hand. We congregate in the main living room to the right of the hallway. Mr. Carlin takes a seat and gets comfortable. Nate shows Lloyd and Devon where to set up and where they’ll be sleeping.
Downstairs there are two living rooms: the main one and a smaller one to the left, just past the dining room. There is a huge kitchen which was extended many years ago with an attached sunroom, a downstairs toilet, study, boot room, and another room which was once my granny’s sewing room but has been made up into a spare bedroom for Nate.
The smaller living room has been temporarily converted into a base for Nate, Lloyd, and Devon. Cameras have been installed all around the perimeter of the house with computer surveillance being in this room.
Extreme!
My stomach churns looking at all the equipment. It just reiterates the seriousness of our impending threat. It looks extreme but I know it’s for the best and will settle my mum’s fears so I try to ignore the cables, monitors, and other devices.
On the second floor, there are five double bedrooms, two with bathroom facilities, a main bathroom, and a smaller room, which is Grandpa’s library containing shelves of his cherished book collection but is currently being used by my mum as a painting room.
“I’m going to give Lucca the tour. Granny, can Lucca and I take my room?”
Tumbleweed.
She is speechless and stuttering, looking at Mum and Grandpa for backup. Mum bites her lip nervously but nods. Grandpa silently confirms his approval with his soft loving eyes.
“Yes, Apple, on you go. Make yourself comfortable, give Lucca the tour, and then come down for some tea,” Grandpa answers for her. My mum reluctantly nods her head towards Granny, who succumbs in defeat under the peer group pressure.
Interesting. She always tends to get the last word, yet she’s speechless. Lucca has charmed her as well … bloody Casanova. On this occasion I’m glad he’s a big bloody flirt.
“Yes, Alexis, sweetheart, your room is ready for … you both,” she finally adds. It must be killing her having to falter under her own rules.
“Thank you, Mrs. Robertson. You have a very beautiful house and thank you for having us.” He’s persuading her with his charismatic manners.
“Why, thank you, Lucca. It’s my pleasure. Please, call me Elizabeth.” And it’s working a treat. Result!
I show Lucca around the house, and he appears to love it—the layout, the history and character, the traditional Scottish interiors from the quality of the thick tartan carpets and sofas to the animal antlers, deer pictures, and plagues above the fireplace. Grandpa also has a wall in which all his shooting rifles, shotguns, and pistols are lined up from his hunting days.
The house has been modernised somewhat, but they have tastefully preserved some of the original features having used only local designers and craftsmen. Granny has an eye for vintage detail and quality but also loves to keep to the tr
adition of the Scottish Highlands.
The ceilings all boast Tudor style beams, which have been re-stained recently. I always think the house smells of pine and wood chips. There’s a wood shed and barn out the back stocked with logs for the fire. My grandpa’s old tractor is still there and his old faithful pedal bike as well in the newly built garages at the side. Past the wood shed and barn are their privately-owned twenty acres of pine woodland wild with fir trees and purple heather and home to deer and red squirrels.
“Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.” I tug Lucca along after he’s admired the old tractor.
“Do we get to try out the bed?” he rasps, roguishly grinning with his sexy, dimpled smile.
“Trust you.” I smile.
“Baby, you know that you, stairs, and bed in the same sentence is going to get me rock fucking hard.” He runs his hand under my sundress, cupping my ass. I am blushing and looking around to make sure no one has heard or witnessed that.
My room has one of the bathrooms. It’s simple and comfy. The adorning ceilings also have Tudor beams. It’s actually not unlike the bedroom in Sofia and Franco’s villa. There’s a double bed with a white duvet cover and a purple and blue tartan throw over the bottom. A mahogany dresser with a purple cushioned stool, drawers, bedside drawers, and a double wardrobe complete the room.
The curtains are purple and navy—Pride of Scotland Hunting Tartan—with matching pelmet and thick braided tie backs. The room is simply decorated with a mirror, clock, and a vase with thistle in it.
Still feeling clammy and queasy, I open the dormer window to let fresh air in.
“Baby, come here.” Lucca sits on the end of the bed reaching out pulling me onto his lap. “I am worried about you. You look rather pale. Your mother noticed too. She mentioned it to me when you were speaking with your grandpa.”
Yawning, I admit I’m feeling tired and groggy. He holds me into his chest, running his hand over my hot skin, soothing me with his touch.
“So what do you think?” I ask.