“She’s hot, but I don’t get why they were fighting over her,” Bain said helpfully. “I mean, if one woman becomes hard work, you move on to the next. There are literally billions to choose from.”
“It’s a miracle you’re still single,” Brodie said, genuinely awestruck by his brother’s logic.
“Hey, don’t knock it. Look how marriage worked out for you. I’m not dumb—I learn from my brothers’ mistakes.”
“Katya wasn’t a mistake.” Now his brother was pissing him off. Again. It was one of Bain’s natural talents.
The smile on Bain’s face was pure devilment. “You know, your Katya looks better than she did ten years ago. I mean, she was bonny back then, but now”—he let out a low whistle—“she’s sexy and confident. Her figure has filled out too, did you notice? And you know what they say about women when they hit their thirties—they’re working their way up to their sexual peak. When is that again? Thirty-five? Aye, I bet she’s up for all sorts of stuff now that she never was then. Seeing as you’re no’ interested in her anymore, would you mind if I made a play for her?”
Brodie’s fist shot out, and he punched his brother right on the nose. Then, leaving Bain to clutch his face and whine like a wee baby, Brodie rolled up the window and went back to trying to figure out what to do with the items Kitty Baxter had given him.
10
Straight after Katya pulled the plug on Brodie’s building plans, she’d made an appointment with her solicitor. At eleven o’clock the next morning, she sat in his office reception area waiting to discuss what they could do to stop Brodie’s build permanently. So much for working things out in a civilized manner—a hope she’d harbored before coming home. Now her main concern was whether her credit card would cover her legal costs.
Lawrence Mayburn had spent most of his adult life working as a barrister in England, but when his wife decided she wanted to be closer to their daughter and grandkids, he’d relicensed as a Scottish solicitor. Although Katya had never met him in person, she’d enjoyed dealing with him over the phone. Before Lawrence, she’d been represented by a firm in Glasgow who’d treated her as yet another number in their vast legion of clients. It had worked fine, but as soon as her mother told her that Invertary had its own law firm, she’d swapped to Lawrence. When it came to the MacGregors, it was always best to have someone nearby to keep an eye on them.
“Mr. Mayburn will see you now,” the receptionist said from behind her sleek wooden desk.
“Thanks.” Katya stood, dusted off her jeans, and headed through to Lawrence’s office. She supposed she should have worn something more appropriate for seeing a solicitor, but apart from several pairs of jeans, the only other thing in her suitcase was a pair of shorts. She figured the jeans were more respectable.
As soon as she entered his office—located at the back of one of the many narrow buildings along the main street—Lawrence Mayburn stood and held out his hand. A distinguished man in his early sixties, he had pristinely styled gray hair and wore an elegant, tailored suit. His warm eyes and genuine, welcoming smile were in keeping with her impression of him from their interactions over the phone, and she found herself relaxing.
“Katya.” He shook her hand. “We meet at last. Please, take a seat.” He sat in his black leather executive chair behind his mahogany desk and pulled a notepad toward him.
“Thanks for fitting me in at such short notice.” Katya sank into one of the brown leather armchairs facing his desk. “As I told your receptionist on the phone yesterday, I need to find a legal way to stop Brodie from building because I don’t think shouting at him and his brothers will work for much longer.”
“Yes, she passed on your message. Unfortunately, there’s been another development in your situation this morning. Given that you were coming in to see me, I refrained from contacting you until we could discuss it in person.”
Katya sank back into her chair. “What’s Brodie done now?”
Lawrence adjusted his computer monitor, swiveling it out of their line of sight, then clasped his hands on the desk. “I’m afraid this isn’t about Mr. MacGregor. It’s about Catherine Baxter.”
That had Katya jerking up straight. “For the record, I wasn’t trespassing. I was merely retrieving stolen goods Brodie hid on her farm. I got out of there as soon as I could, and I didn’t even carry out the threat I made against her. Honestly, I was on my best behavior.”
Lawrence seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. “That’s good to know, but Ms. Baxter’s solicitor didn’t mention trespassing during our call this morning. It seems Ms. Baxter is insisting that you and Mr. MacGregor have violated the conditions set down for ownership of the land her father gifted to you.”
Okay, now she was perched on the edge of her chair. “I don’t see how. Brodie and I are still married. Ben’s only condition was that the land would revert to the family trust if we divorced.”
Lawrence consulted the notepad in front of him. “According to her solicitor, you and Mr. MacGregor are attempting to defraud the trust by adhering to the letter of the condition while flaunting the spirit of it. In other words, you are no longer husband and wife in any way other than your marriage certificate. You both live as single, divorced people, which is in direct breach of the conditions of the gift.”
“But, but…” Katya blustered as she looked around the room, searching for inspiration in the conservative décor. “Legally, we’re still married.”
“Yes, but they claim that Mr. Baxter’s intention when he made the gift was that you would live happily together and use the land for your joint future. Ms. Baxter is arguing that you and Mr. MacGregor have done neither. You went your separate ways and only remain legally married in an effort to defraud the Baxter Trust out of a piece of its land.”
Katya opened and shut her mouth several times before words eventually came out. “Can she do this?”
“I’m afraid that, under Scottish law, she has quite a strong case.” He leaned forward, looking eager. “You see, unlike English law, Scottish law is based on a mixed system, which means the laws governing property and land ownership are—”
“Lawrence,” Katya said, “we both know there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I’ll understand anything you say next, so please just tell me, is this serious? Could Catherine take the land from us?”
Lawrence sat back in his chair, compassion on his face. “The short answer to both questions is yes.”
Deflated, Katya sank into her chair as Lawrence’s computer pinged. He tapped on his keyboard.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said gently. “I spoke to Mr. MacGregor’s solicitor this morning, and we discussed this new issue. As I’m in Invertary, we’ve agreed it would be best for me to speak with both of you. Because of this, I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Mr. MacGregor to our meeting, as I knew you’d want this resolved as quickly as possible.”
Before Katya could even process that information, the door opened, and Brodie walked in. Shrewd eyes took in Lawrence’s demeanor and Katya’s slumped body language.
“Hey, Lawrence,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “What’s Katya done now?”
“Typical.” She rolled her eyes at Brodie. “You always assume I’m the root of all your problems.”
“That’s because you usually are.” He sat in the seat beside her. “Rough night? Are those dark circles under your eyes? Were you tossing and turning because you couldn’t get me out of your mind?”
“Yes. I spent hours plotting ways to murder you and hide your body.” She turned to Lawrence. “Is it still a crime if there’s no body?”
“Yes. Please don’t murder Brodie. I’m close to retirement and trying to reduce my workload. A murder case would interfere with my golf game.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Katya smiled at her lawyer. “It can wait until after you’ve retired.”
“That’s most appreciated.” Lawrence was clearly amused.
“As entertaining as I fin
d listening to Kat plot my demise, I’d really like to know why I’m here.” Brodie lounged in his seat, clearly unbothered by Katya’s threat. She really needed to come up with a new one.
“Old Woman Baxter thinks she’s found a way to take the land off us,” Katya said.
That had Brodie’s full attention. “How?”
“As I explained to Katya,” Lawrence said, “you may have a marriage certificate, but you don’t live as husband and wife. Ms. Baxter is arguing that you’re only staying legally married in order to defraud her family and that your relationship is a sham.”
Brodie seemed a little nonplussed. “Well, that’s all true.”
Katya let her head thump back against the chair, closed her eyes, and groaned. “Please don’t put him on the witness stand.”
“What?” Brodie demanded. “It’s not like we’ve hidden the fact you’ve been gone for ten years. Hell, I’ve even had other relationships in that time. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out our marriage is a sham.”
She opened one eye and glared at him. “You’ve had other relationships? In town?”
“Did you think I was a monk while you were gone?”
Now she considered it, a part of her had thought exactly that. “No. And in case you were wondering, I wasn’t a nun either.”
“I wasn’t wondering,” he snapped.
“Katya, Brodie.” Lawrence held up his hands as though asking for peace. “We need to deal with the issue at hand. Ms. Baxter plans to take you to court to prove your marriage is a sham, so we must come up with a strategy to foil her plans. I’m assuming you both want to keep the land?”
They nodded—while frowning at each other.
“Good,” Lawrence said. “Then we need a plan of action.” He turned to a new page in his notepad and picked up a pen.
“You mean you want us to lie,” Brodie said. “Because that’s the only thing I can think of, and I’m not sure anyone would believe us. We can hardly tell everybody we were still a couple over the past ten years when there are plenty of witnesses and evidence that says otherwise.”
“Wow, big sentences,” Katya said. “Does your brain hurt?”
“Katya, please,” Lawrence said, making her mumble an apology. “As far as I can see, there’s no way to rewrite history. You have clearly been separated for years, and everyone knows it. All we can do now is address Ms. Baxter’s concern that you are currently married in name only. I feel...” he hesitated, “that the only way to fight this is to convince everyone your marriage is back on track in every way possible. In other words, Invertary has to believe you are a loving, committed married couple. You must understand that, as your solicitor, I’m not advocating you deceive anyone. That isn’t something someone in my position could or should do.” It was clear from his protestations that pretending was exactly what he was asking them to do. “I’m merely suggesting you live together and work at reconciliation, so we can present the case that you’re trying to fix your marriage.”
There was a beat of silence, as if the whole world had paused to suck in a deep breath, and then the shouting began.
Brodie was on his feet in an instant. “You have got to be kidding me! You want us to fake being together? Have you met us?” This was the craziest plan he’d ever heard, and he had six brothers who specialized in crazy plans. Hell, Kat’s family was famous for coming up with dumb ideas, and this one beat them all.
Lawrence held up his hands. “I would never suggest such a thing. I’m asking you to work at your marriage.”
“Aye, we know what you have to tell us, and we know what we’re hearing,” Brodie growled. Bloody lawyers, always covering their own backs, but Lawrence definitely meant for them to fake it until he could get the Baxter objection thrown out of court.
“I can’t live with him. I can barely stand being in the same room.” Katya, who’d jumped out of her chair too, was now pacing the room. “No one’s going to believe we took one look at each other after ten years apart and suddenly fell in love all over again. For Pete’s sake, we were rolling around wrestling in his office just yesterday. That story’s already all over town.”
“So’s the one about me locking her out of her land, stealing her plane, and hiding it on the property of her family’s arch-nemesis.”
“When I had tea with the Knit or Die ladies this morning, I was very vocal about how much Brodie annoys me. I may have also told them he’s moonlighting as a stripper and looking for work, which was before they helped me sign him up to every website I could find that supplies mail-order brides.”
“You did what?” Brodie shouted.
Katya glared at him. “You know you deserve it. Plus, you always wanted a nice obedient, boring wife, so now you can pick one from a catalog.”
“That is completely deranged.” Brodie had to clench his fists to keep from strangling her. “I can’t believe you roped in the local knitting club to help you.”
“I didn’t rope them in—they were eager to volunteer. They said that a scaredy-cat who gave up on his wife because he didn’t want to step outside his comfortable wee box deserved everything he got.”
He leaned into her until they were practically nose to nose. “I didn’t want to go on a wild-goose chase, wasting time on something that didn’t bloody matter. That isn’t fear, it’s sanity.”
A finger poked his pec. “My great-grandmother matters. If it wasn’t for people like her, we’d be living under Nazi rule right now. She risked her life to save all of us.”
“And I suppose that justifies you upending our lives to go chasing after her memory?”
“She was a war hero. An honorable woman. She deserves to be remembered.”
“Aye.” Brodie saw red. “So honorable that she was married to two men at the same time!”
Katya sucked in a breath. “What?”
Brodie cursed, wanting to kick the walls in frustration. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that.” To be fair, he hadn’t even decided whether he wanted to tell her at all. He’d been leaning toward leaving the envelope in the Savage mailbox and washing his hands of the whole matter.
Fingers curled around his forearm. “Brodie? What did you mean?”
He let out a sigh. “Damn it, Kat. You make me nuts, and then I blurt stuff.”
Her fingernails bit into his skin. “Not like this, you don’t. You need to explain.”
“Fine.” He shrugged out of her hold, ran a hand through his hair, and plopped back into his seat. For a second, he was surprised to see Lawrence. He’d forgotten they were in the man’s office. “After you drove your plane away from the Baxters’ farm, Kitty gave me an envelope. She told me it would explain the grudge-fest between your families.”
Katya slowly sat back down, keeping her eyes glued to him.
“There was a photo in the envelope and a marriage certificate. The photo was of Tom, Ben, and Natasha, all laughing together. The marriage certificate was for Natasha and Ben.”
Wide eyes glanced between Brodie and the solicitor. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Join the club,” Brodie muttered.
“If there’s a marriage certificate, there must be divorce papers,” Katya said.
“I was curious and did a search of the national database. Nothing came up.”
“No,” Katya whispered. “She couldn’t have been married to both men at the same time.”
Lawrence cleared his throat. “I realize this is disturbing news, but we have more urgent matters to attend to, Katya.”
She nodded, looking defeated as she slumped into the chair, and Brodie had to fight the urge to fall back into old habits and comfort her. The need was so powerful that his fingers tingled to reach out to her. But instead of giving in and having her reject him, he folded his arms tight against his chest.
“Okay,” Katya said to Lawrence, her voice flat. “What do you need us to do?”
Lawrence gave Brodie a pointed look.
“Fine.” Brodie pinched the bridge of
his nose as a headache formed. “We’ll do what we have to do to keep the land.”
“Good.” The solicitor picked up his pen again. “Then let’s discuss what form your reconciliation will take.”
11
Five weeks after VE day, 1945
A village east of Berlin, Germany
* * *
With no radio in the village, there was no way of telling what was happening with the war. It was only when the gunfire became less frequent, and the bombing ceased entirely, that Natasha realized something had changed. The question was what exactly.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Lina rescued her. The days had begun to blend as the hunger gnawing at her insides grew. All that mattered now was the search for food—a rarely successful endeavor. She’d lost so much weight she scarcely recognized herself, but she didn’t care about that. All she cared about was the agony of starvation. Some days, the only way to cope with it was to sleep, shivering on the cot in Lina’s kitchen, too weak to generate enough body heat to stop shaking.
The locals hiding along with her in the rubble were as kind as their fear would allow. It had become second nature to regard each other with suspicion, especially with someone like her, who couldn’t speak their language. Remaining silent was a blessing. It meant she couldn’t accidentally tell someone who she was. One slip, and her life would be over. Either the Nazis would capture her and send her to an internment camp, or the Soviet Army would sweep her up and send her to Stalin. She was no longer certain which fate was worse.
Subsisting on a thin broth made from roots she found in the forest and hoped wouldn’t poison her, Natasha spent her time wondering why she hadn’t died in the plane crash. No one would have missed her if she’d died. She had no family to go home to in Russia—her parents were long gone, and the conflict had already claimed her brothers. All her friends were caught up in the war, and she didn’t know their fates. Even if Stalin didn’t execute her for supposedly deserting his army, she had no reason to return home. No reason to be alive.
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