by Anna Durand
"I didn't need to know that."
She laughs. "Yeah, I guess that was over-sharing. Don't worry, I can handle your brother."
Aye, Emery is the only person on earth who can do that with any measure of success. Rory, aka the Steely Solicitor, always listens to his wife.
"So," Emery says, "tell me what's up."
"I've been trying to get through to Alex, to make him open up to me so I can understand why he is the way he is. I want—no, I need to see the real Alex, not just the smiling, what-the-fuck-do-I-care persona he puts on for everyone else."
"What do you need from me?"
"You've met Alex several times. You're the most perceptive person I know, so, um…what do you think of him?"
She hums for a moment, like she's thinking about how to respond. "I haven't had any long conversations with Alex, but I've always liked him. Rory gave up trying to drag me over to the We Hate Alex camp, but he thinks I'm 'off my head' for being friendly with the British Bastard."
"Would you mind not calling him that? I apologized to Alex for making up those stupid nicknames for him."
She falls silent for a few seconds, then her voice takes on a knowing tone. "Ohhhh, I get it. You're falling for him all over again, aren't you?"
"I don't know. That's why I need your help."
"You know I'm here for whatever you need." She hesitates, and when she speaks again, she sounds much more serious. "I hope you're prepared for what you'll have to go through to get this done. If you're determined to break through Alex's shell, get ready for an emotional beating. He'll fight you every step of the way, and he might say things that will hurt—a lot. I went through this with Rory, but I get the feeling Alex will be much harder to crack. You need patience, tenderness, and a thick skin. Are you ready for that?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
"Remember, you have a secret weapon at your disposal."
"What is it?"
She laughs again. "Sex, of course."
"Donnae think that works on Alex. We had a poke already, and he still won't tell me everything."
"You already slept with him? Well, I'm sure you can think of other sexy ways to break his willpower. But the most important weapon in your arsenal is the most deceptively simple and the most devastatingly effective."
"Can you not be so cryptic?"
"Sure. I'm talking about love, Cat. You can't save a man from himself unless your heart is invested in the mission."
Am I in love with Alex? I don't know. He won't let me figure that out because he won't show me his true self. Armed with Emery's advice, maybe I have a chance. I owe it to myself and to Alex to try.
"Thank you, Em," I say. "You're my favorite sister-in-law."
"I won't tell Erica and Calli you said that." She pauses, then adds, "You can call me anytime, if you need more advice or just emotional support. I'm here for you."
"You're an angel, Emery."
"No, I've learned from hard experience, that's all. Before you get too deeply into this thing with Alex, you need to answer one question. Is he worth it?"
"I believe he is."
"Then good luck, Cat. You'll need it."
We say goodbye, and I resolve to begin my mission. I am invested. Every iota of strength, determination, and love in my soul will guide me and empower me. I know Alex is worth the pain and the struggle. No one else knew him before he became the closed-off, impenetrable version of himself. I didn't simply know him back then. I loved him. No one on earth had ever made me feel the way he did, like I could jump off a cliff and he would always be there to catch me. He still has that effect on me.
I've caught glimpses of the old Alex. Now, I need to excavate his soul and wash off the dirt.
But I can't do that in my bedroom.
So I trot downstairs to his study. He's left the door open, but I don't see him in there. Has he left the house? I walk into the study and glance around, still not seeing him.
Wait. I see something…
Edging around the desk, I realize what I'm seeing. Alex's feet stick out from behind his big leather chair. I move closer, and the rest of him comes into view.
Alex is lying on the floor on his back, eyes closed, hands clasped over his belly.
I kneel beside him. "Alex, are you asleep?"
"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be able to answer your question."
"Good, I'm glad you're awake." I pry one of his hands away from his body. "We're going into town for lunch and to have fun."
He groans, twisting his mouth into an annoyed expression. "I am not in the mood, Catriona. You go on, though. When you get home, you can tell me all about how much fun you had in that boring little town."
"No, Alex. We are going together." I tug on his hand while I rise to a half-standing position. "Get up, or I'll make you do it."
He chuckles and opens one eye. "Your determination is charming, but I'm much bigger and heavier than you. No woman can make me move unless I want to."
I wag a finger at him, clucking my tongue. "Donnae underestimate a MacTaggart woman."
"Ah yes, you MacTaggarts are a bloody stubborn lot." He opens his other eye, aiming both of them at me. "Go on, then. Move me."
He's daring me to do it, but I know he's right about one thing. I can't pull him up off the floor without his cooperation. How else can I force him to move?
An idea occurs to me, and I smile.
Then I race into the kitchen, get what I need, and race back to Alex. He's still lying there on the floor, but his arrogantly certain expression dissolves when he sees what I'm holding. His brows knit together.
I dump a pail of cold water onto him. Ice cubes tumble out along with the water.
He shouts and splutters.
And then he jumps to his feet.
Shaking himself, he scowls at me. "That was cheating."
"Never said I'd make you move by physical force."
He studies me like this is the first time he's really seen me. "How did I never realize your soul is full of wicked trickery and larceny?"
"I'm not the infatuated girl you used to know." I drop the pail on the floor. "Now, will you come with me willingly? Or do I need to bring my secret weapon?"
"Since I'm not sure I'll survive your secret weapon…" He raises his hands, palms out. "I surrender to you, Catriona MacTaggart. Do with me what you will."
"You surrender? Hmm, that has interesting possibilities." I seize his shirt and haul him closer. "I own you, Alex Thorne."
"I believe you just might." He bends his head to whisper in my ear, "This means I will be corrupting you."
Excitement sizzles through me, awakening my skin and every fine hair on my body. "Cannae wait for that."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alex
Why did I agree to this? The things most people think are fun seem annoying and dull to me—like amusement parks, which I've never understood. Wait in a queue for hours so you can have the privilege of being flung around for a few minutes? That sounds like torture to me. But then, I've never visited an amusement park. Maybe it's more enjoyable than it sounds like.
Cat feigns shock when I tell her I've never been to an amusement park. "Alex Thorne, the daredevil who loves to shag me in public places, has never ridden on a roller coaster?"
"Make fun of me all you want. It doesn't bother me."
"I know that." She uses my hand, which she insists on holding while we stroll down the streets of this town, as leverage to pull me closer to her. Then she bumps her shoulder into me and smiles with saccharine charm. "It's telling the truth that scares you."
For a second or two, I consider reminding her that I'm not afraid of anything. Why waste oxygen on that? The bloody woman won't believe me no matter how many times I say it.
"Where are you abducting me to, anyway?" I ask. "This town doesn't have anything that even remotely resembles amusement."
"Of course it does." She points at a shop we've alm
ost reached. "There. Let's look for gifts to send to our families."
The sneaky woman. She thinks she can trick me into revealing my history to her by suggesting "we" buy gifts for "our" families.
"Nice try," I tell her. "But I'm not that easy to manipulate."
"You were back in the wood this morning."
"Say 'woods,' Cat. Americans might think you're talking about something very different if you refer to the forest as the wood."
"Will they?" She glances at my groin. "Donnae worry. No one will think I mean your slat is hard when I talk about the wood. It's flat as a burst balloon."
"It is not—" I stop myself from defending the state of my cock and grumble instead as we stop at the door to the shop she wants to visit. "Oh lord, please tell me you're not serious."
"Of course I am. It's a gift shop, Alex, and we agreed to buy gifts for our families."
"No, you said we should. I ignored your comment."
"Which is tacit agreement." She moves toward the door, tugging on my hand, and lays her free hand on the knob. "What's wrong with this shop? It's adorable."
"That's the problem. It's full of adorable little knickknacks and adorable novelty shirts and sickeningly adorable hats." I squint, peering through the window. "Bloody hell. Are those slippers made to look like furry rabbits?"
"Aye." While she pulls the door open, making a bell jingle, she smiles at me. "I'll be sure to buy you a pair."
"No thank you. I already have a pair of kitten-shaped slippers."
"Good, then the bunny ones will fit right in."
For reasons I can't fathom, I let her haul me into the shop. For twenty minutes, we browse all the nauseatingly cheerful items arranged on shelves and in wooden boxes. Cat selects silly gifts for her brothers, sisters, in-laws, and cousins—so many items that I wind up carrying two shopping baskets while she carries another one. When we reach a shelf of wooden boxes filled with various kinds of rocks, she digs through one full of polished pink stones, finally excavating a single specimen the size of a quarter.
"Here," she says, offering me the stone. "I'm buying this for you. No one needs rose quartz as much as you do."
I take the stone, turning it between my fingers. "Why do I need this? It's a rock."
"Rose quartz is said to have magical effects. Maybe its spell will penetrate that iron skin of yours and make you more receptive."
"And what exactly are you trying to make me receptive to?"
She touches the stone with the tip of one finger. "Rose quartz represents love and passion."
I stare down at the stone, a coldness rushing through me. Rocks don't have supernatural powers, but Catriona seems to have the unerring ability to crawl under my skin and reawaken parts of me I'd laid to rest long ago. I had good reasons for doing that. Reasons I will never tell Cat.
"Love and passion," she repeats, leaning closer, her voice hushed and filled with emotions I don't care to decipher.
I toss the stone back into the bin. "No thank you."
She pulls back, but only a little. "Fine, forget the stone. But we are going to buy gifts for our families."
"Repeatedly using the word family won't make me tell you about mine."
Her eyes light up, and her brows rise a touch. "So, you do have a family. That's a start."
"Everyone has a family. I wasn't born from Zeus's skull."
"I know that," she says, looking at me like I'm a clueless child. "But you admitted you have family, which means one day you will tell me about them."
Though I frown at her, she just smiles and takes my hand again, leading me toward a display of—
"Ruddy novelty shirts?" I say, stopping dead like a stubborn mule. "No, Cat, I am not trying on any ridiculous clothing."
"No need to try it on." She releases my hand so she can flip through the shirts on hangers. When she finds the one she wants, at the back of the rack, she pulls it out and grins. "This is perfect. Let's see if it fits."
She holds the shirt, still on its hanger, up to my chest. Turning her head side to side, she nods. "Aye, it's the right size."
I glance down at the garment she's holding to my chest. The tie-dyed shirt features bright colors and the saying "Don't hate me because I'm pretty."
"That's very funny," I say, "but no. I will not wear this."
"Embarrassed?" she asks. "All right. Maybe I'll send this to Rory. He won't be ashamed to be seen in it."
"Ashamed? Me?" I set down the two baskets I've been carrying, tear the shirt off its hanger, and whip off the one I'm wearing. While she smirks, I tug the new shirt on over my head. The price tag dangles from the armpit. "See? Not the slightest bit embarrassed."
Cat's lips flatten, the corners ticking up, and she makes a soft snorting noise. "Thought it would be much harder to get under your skin. Turns out it's not as thick and ironclad as I thought."
My shoulders sag. Oh bloody fucking hell, she's done it. The woman has driven me completely insane.
"Uh, you have to pay for that," calls out a young man behind the sales counter. "Dude, we don't give those away for free, ya know."
"Yes, I'll pay for it." I suppose I have to, now that I've worn the blasted thing. Growling under my breath, I pick up the shopping baskets and look at Cat. "Now that you've made your point, can we please leave this ridiculous shop?"
"After we pay for everything."
"I will pay for everything. Consider it my donation to the MacTaggart family lunatic asylum. The lot of you are barmy to the core."
"Thank you." She pats my cheek. "For the gifts and for the compliment. Being barmy is much more fun than hiding out in a gloomy mansion."
After we pay for the treasure trove of outlandish gifts she's bought, we have to go back to the car to stash all of it in the trunk. I want to go home. She insists we visit one more shop and then have lunch at the "wee cafe" she found by asking the clerk in the gift shop for advice on the best place to eat. The cafe in question is, according to the young man in the shop, "totally dope and sick to the extreme."
Yes, doesn't that sound lovely.
Cat makes me cover my eyes while she leads me down the sidewalk to the next shop she wants to visit. Only after we've walked inside does she let me see where she's taken me.
I glance around, trying hard not to grimace. She really does seem intent on driving me to drink. If I had a full bottle of Ben Nevis in my hand, I'd pour the entire contents down my throat.
The wily Scot leans into me and whispers, "Welcome to The Cave. I think you're familiar with their line of bondage gear."
"So this is where you found fuzzy pink handcuffs."
"It is. But they have a lot more than handcuffs." She claims my hand again. "Come on, Alex, be adventurous."
I sigh, resigned to my fate. "If we must."
"Aye, we must." She leads me down an aisle. "You used to be so open and free. Now you're a walking automaton."
"That's what you think?" I grab her wrist and pull her snug against me, her breasts crushed against my chest. "Then who was it who fucked you in the lecture hall?"
"I wish you'd be like that all the time. Instead, you're uptight."
"You have me confused with someone else. Or have you forgotten that I crawled onto your bed and devoured you while you were talking to your sister on the phone?"
"But you've done that sort of thing only twice. If you're still as naughty as ever"—she grinds her hips into me, rubbing herself against my cock—"prove it. Right here, right now."
She wants me to ravish her in the middle of a sex shop, with a display of dildos on one side of the aisle and an assortment of nipple clamps on the other side. Catriona MacTaggart wants me to do it. She's daring me to.
My cock is getting hard, which is exactly what she intended.
I want to do it. Feeling her warm, supple body pressed against mine is dissolving all my willpower. I need to shove her trousers and knickers down to her ankles, back her up to that displ
ay of dildos, and drive into her wet heat.
"Hey guys, no hanky-panky in the store."
"Sorry," I call out to the tattooed woman behind the counter, at the front of the shop. "We'll behave."
Cat peels her body away from mine. "I guess you're not the naughty man I used to know after all."
"Later, I'll show you just how naughty I am."
"Is that a promise?"
"Yes."
She looks far too pleased with herself while she saunters down the aisle admiring the merchandise.
I see an item I recognize and hold it up. "Remember these?"
Cat grins. "Oral sex candy. I remember how much you liked that."
"They should label it as a health hazard. I think I had a mild heart attack when you used this candy on me." I wave the packet at her. "Maybe I should buy some of this, so I can give you a taste of your own medicine."
"No need. I still have some at home."
Christ, I wish she would stop calling my house "home." It makes my skin itch.
She goes back to browsing the offerings.
I peer down at small cardboard boxes hanging on a rod. "Edible knickers? What's the point of that?"
"For fun. It tastes good. Maybe we should try it."
"But then I wouldn't have the joy of ripping your knickers off. I love the way you gasp when I do that."
Head down, studying a rack of temporary tattoos, she glances at me. "It's been years since you tore my underwear off. I miss your passionate enthusiasm for…everything."
I ignore her statement, pretending to be obsessed with the assortment of edible underwear.
"Look at this," she says. "You can get a custom temporary tattoo of your name."
"How fascinating."
She throws me a sly, sideways look. "I wonder if your name would fit on my arm. What is your full name?"
"Alexander the Great."
She gives me a look that implies I'm being a stubborn arse.
Which I am, of course.
"Your name isn't a state secret," she says.
"I don't know your full name, so we're even."
She straightens and lifts her chin. "I'm Catriona Sorcha MacTaggart. Now it's your turn."