by Anna Durand
I grumble, because I can't think of a thing to say. Snarling at him doesn't work. He's like Logan in that way, though Jack's annoying calmness is far more annoying than Logan's.
"On to another topic," Jack says. "Tell me about your parents, Henry and Imogen. You're adopted, aren't you?"
I jerk my head to glare at him. "How do you know that? My parents wouldn't tell you."
"They didn't need to. You occasionally call them by their given names, and you don't resemble them."
"Not all children resemble their parents."
"I also asked them what you were like as a toddler. They changed the subject, but they're not as good at deflection as you are."
No, of course they're not. They're honest people.
"Yes, all right," I say. "Henry and Imogen became my foster parents when I was taken into care at eight years old. Eventually, they adopted me."
"What happened to your birth parents?"
"They're still alive, somewhere."
Jack is silent for long enough that the urge to look at him becomes irresistible. When I do look, he's wearing a serene smile—a serenely smug smile.
"Aren't you meant to be sympathetic?" I ask. "You look like you're terribly proud of yourself for getting me to confess."
"You haven't confessed, not yet." He walks to the window and sits on the wide sill facing me. "What do you need to confess, Alex?"
I doubt I'm getting out of this room until I've told this man something. What the hell. It's not like I've committed a crime, not since I was a child, at any rate. "Everyone I love is in danger because of me. Because one sodding moron decided I've wronged him by being a pompous arse."
"So it's not because of you. It's because of him. I assume we're talking about Reginald Hewitt." He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to speak. "Logan told me all about that."
I suppose I can't be angry with Logan. Everyone knows about it by now, since Cat's brothers witnessed the fire that destroyed my home. And I told them about Reginald.
Jack leans back against the window frame. "Let's talk about why you feel the need to blame yourself for what Reginald Hewitt did."
I drop my head into my palm and mutter an oath. "Therapy sessions last for an hour, don't they?"
"Oh, donnae worry." Jack bends toward me, smiling. "I've got the whole morning set aside for you."
Sinking lower in my chair, I groan.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Catriona
I wait in the main hallway while Alex and Jack have their meeting, though I really want to be hovering outside the door to the sitting room with my ear to the wood, listening in. That would be wrong, though. Alex needs someone to talk to who's not me, and he needs to know whatever they talk about is private. Jack is one of the kindest people I've ever known, but he's also not fazed by recalcitrant clients.
Maybe he can get through to Alex.
Why does Alex insist he's a criminal? Whatever his parents forced him to do when he was a child has nothing to do with his true nature. He's a good man, and I pray Jack can convince him of that.
Oh, but Alex is also a stubborn goat. He'll kick and bite to keep anyone from asking uncomfortable questions.
Jack can handle it. I know that.
So why am I pacing in the long hallway, wringing my hands and checking the time on the wall clock? Alex and Jack have been sequestered in the sitting room for over an hour.
I want to run down the hall, through the dining room, and down the guest wing hall to the sitting room door. I want to burst into the room, to check on Alex. But I won't do any of that. Alex will come out when he's ready. I have to wait.
"Mhac na galla," I mutter.
Laughter echoes down the hall from the direction of the dining room.
Spinning around, I trot toward the sound.
Jack and Alex walk out of the dining room, smiling and laughing.
I stop, my attention locked on them. Alex is laughing. He's happy. After a therapy session. I expected he would resign himself to the idea and become somewhat cooperative, but I hadn't expected him to come out of it laughing.
Jack slaps a hand on Alex's shoulder. "See? Therapy isn't a torture session."
Alex twists one side of his mouth into a half smile. "I have a feeling your version of therapy isn't standard."
"There's no single method that works for everyone." Jack pats Alex's shoulder. "Especially for someone like you."
Both men notice me, where I'm frozen in place a few meters from them.
"Catriona, you can have Alex back now. I've shrunk his head to just the right size and polished him up for you." Jack walks past me, pausing to whisper in my ear, "You and Alex are good for each other."
Then he ambles into the vestibule. The door to the outside clicks open and shut.
Alex jams his hands into his trouser pockets. "I suppose talking to your psychologist cousin wasn't a rubbish idea after all."
"Did you just admit you liked therapy?"
"I like Jack. That's all." He approaches me, settling his hands on my arms, skating them up and down my skin. "I love you, Cat, and I'll do whatever I have to do to make this work. Honestly, I might cock it up, but I'm trying not to."
"You won't cock it up. Now that you've told me everything, we don't have a wall of secrets between us anymore."
"True." He draws me closer, not quite close enough to kiss me. "Jack suggested I look into my family. Logan has said the same thing. There seems to be a consensus among the people who don't hate me that I should explore the possibility I might have relatives who aren't criminals."
"You should." I move closer, wrapping my arms around his midsection. "I'll be with you every step of the way. You're not alone anymore."
"I know." He brushes a kiss over my forehead. "You want children, and I need to make sure I don't have a rancid gene pool."
"Let's go talk to Rory. He knows investigators who I'm sure can help you trace your family."
"That will need to wait a bit. Jack informed me that my presence is required on the green." He grimaces. "I have a feeling your brothers and cousins have devised a series of Highland games to make me feel more…masculine."
"You participated last time they held the games."
"And it worked out brilliantly, didn't it? I nearly killed myself."
I raise onto my toes to level our gazes. "Maybe they think you need to prove to yourself you can do it."
"Please tell me you're not suggesting I toss a caber again."
"The decision is up to you. But remember, my brothers and cousins want to help you. This is their way of showing it."
He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, groans, and looks at me again. "Yes, yes, I'll do my bit. This time when I'm crushed under a caber, if I ask you to be my physical therapist, say yes."
"Of course I will. I told you that before." I rub myself against his body, grinding my hips into his groin. "I know all the best kinds of physical therapy."
I take his hand and lead him outside and into the garden, heading for the door hidden behind a flowering bush. The last time we were in this garden together, Alex and I had been arguing. That was the day I'd seen him again for the first time in twelve years. So much has changed in the nine months since that day. I've gone from cursing his name to telling Alex I love him, and now I've brought him home with me—and my entire family has welcomed him.
Alex pulls the old door open, but he has to tug on it so hard it opens with a loud popping noise.
"Why doesn't anyone fix this door?" he asks. "It's bloody hard to open."
"That door is hundreds of years old. It's historic."
"Not all very old things are worth saving." He gives the door a light kick with his foot. "And this is one of the things that isn't."
"But you're one of the things that is."
He lifts his brows. "You're calling me old? Careful, you might ruin all the progress I made in therapy if you keep insulting me."
&
nbsp; "You are older than I am, but I meant because we knew each other years ago. You're an old boyfriend."
I glance out the door and see a small crowd out there—my brothers, several of my cousins, and two of their wives. The children have stayed home. I notice Emery and Rae standing beside their husbands while Rory and Iain are having a discussion. My sisters, Fiona and Jamie, loiter just behind the others, while Gavin is rolling the cabers into position. Evan isn't here, of course. He still doesn't like to leave Keely and baby Joy.
As soon as Alex and I walk out the garden door, Lachlan and Aidan approach us.
Lachlan offers Alex a package wrapped in brown paper. "We got you a new kilt."
"Do I dare open this?" Alex asks me. "You might have made me a lavender kilt with glitter-soaked images of ponies on it this time."
"I didn't have time to make you a kilt. Whatever that is, my brothers came up with it."
"Yes, that eases my mind so much." Alex unwraps the package, revealing a kilt fashioned from the MacTaggart clan tartan of blue, green, and orange. He stares at the kilt for several seconds without blinking, then shifts his surprised gaze to Lachlan. "Ah, thank you. This is… Thank you, Lachlan, and all of you."
My brothers have given him an official MacTaggart clan kilt. The simple, tacit act of acceptance makes me want to cry, but I don't. My brothers are always embarrassed when any of their sisters get emotional with them.
Instead, I hug Lachlan and kiss his cheek, then do the same to Aidan. "Thank you for this, thank you, thank you, thank you."
When I smile at Alex, he still looks stunned.
Clasping his hand, I lead him out onto the green where everything needed for a good round of Highland games is already set up. The crisp, refreshing scent of newly mowed grass envelops us. They've laid out a chalk line to indicate where contestants should stand.
Alex unzips his trousers and puts on his kilt over them, then he gets rid of his trousers. I know for a fact he doesn't have any underwear on. If a breeze kicks up, his kilt might fly up and show everyone just how much of a man he is.
I'm not sure I want Emery and Rae to see Alex's dangly bits. They're mine.
Rory shakes Alex's hand. "Welcome to a special edition of the MacTaggart Highland games. This time there are only two contestants." He points at himself and then Alex. "Are ye ready for it, Sassenach?"
Alex glances at the two cabers lying on the grass several meters away. "Yes, I'm ready."
Rory smiles in his devilish way, the expression that makes most men cringe.
Alex doesn't.
My brother gestures toward the chalk line with one arm. "Sassenachs first."
"We're starting with the caber toss, then?" Alex asks.
"I'm letting you start easy, with the stone put. We'll work up to the cabers."
Once Alex approaches the combat zone, Iain carries a large, smooth stone over to him. Alex accepts it, hefting the stone in his hand like he's adjusting to its weight. Once he's ready, he spins around twice and hurls the rock. It thumps down ten meters away, by my estimate. Iain rushes out to measure the distance, declaring it to be twelve point two meters. Rory throws his stone next, landing it a few centimeters past Alex's. They have another go, but this time Alex beats Rory. A third round breaks the tie—and Alex wins.
I wonder if Rory threw the match, but I decide he wouldn't do that. Rory knows Alex needs to win the right way.
They do weight for height next, each man grasping a heavy stone by its metal handle and flinging it over a crossbar. Rory wins this time, though not by much. Alex wins the next game, the hammer throw, and then it's time for the caber toss.
During the last Highland games, Alex had tripped and nearly gotten crushed by his caber. While I watch him walk his hands up the caber to get it upright, I strap my arms around myself and chew on my lip. A memory of a caber slamming down on him barrels through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before I force myself to watch. When Alex defeats Rory, I want to see it.
Alex gets his caber upright, and with a shout, launches it end over end.
I cheer and clap, hopping up and down. "Go, Alex!"
Rory lands his caber less than a meter past Alex's.
Alex wins the second round, and it's time for the final throw. Rory goes first, hurling his caber even farther than the first two times. Alex gets ready, taking a moment to prepare while he holds the caber upright with its end on the ground. Rory bars his arms over his chest and aims his famous steely expression at Alex.
I want to run over there and smack Rory. If he distracts Alex and makes him drop the caber, I will murder my brother.
But Alex doesn't get distracted. He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he flashes Rory a smirk and heaves his caber.
And it whumps down well past Rory's throw.
I scream and clap, jumping up and down, then I race across the green to Alex and throw myself at him. He catches me, so my feet are dangling above the ground. I lock my arms around his neck and kiss him.
The crowd cheers.
Which means my brothers are cheering too, since I hear more than the three voices of Iain, Logan, and Jack.
By the time I stop kissing Alex and he lowers me onto the ground, everyone has gathered around us.
Rory offers Alex his hand. "Congratulations. You won the MacTaggart family Highland games. For the first time in history, a Sassenach beat a MacTaggart."
Alex shakes Rory's hand.
The other men come over to congratulate him with a handshake too. But Rae, Emery, and Fiona kiss his cheek.
I almost pass out from shock when Jamie hugs and kisses Alex. She's hated him more than anyone since the day he first turned up at Dùndubhan. Now she's kissing his cheek and smiling at him. I'm so stunned, in fact, that I blurt out the question that's echoing in my mind.
"Jamie, why are you kissing Alex? You hate him."
She rolls her eyes. "Donnae hate him. Not anymore. You love him, and Jack says he's not the devil, so that's good enough for me."
"Only pregnancy hormones could make you so forgiving."
She huffs.
Rory interrupts us, speaking to Alex. "I think you and I should talk. Alone."
Alex glances at me like he wants my permission. Or maybe he wants me to insist on going with him to talk to my brother.
I decide he doesn't want that, so I tell him, "Go on. It's all right."
Jamie hooks her arm under mine. "You can find her in the dining room when you and Rory are done. Lunch will be served in thirty minutes."
Rory and Alex stride through the garden gate and disappear from sight.
Should I worry about why my brother wants to see Alex alone?
No, that's barmy. I don't need to worry.
"Come on," Jamie says. "Let's go make sandwiches for our men."
"Don't the women get to eat?"
She rolls her eyes again. "Being with Alex has made you a fair sight more sarcastic than you used to be."
I take that as a compliment.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alex
I've barely sat down in the chair across the desk from Rory, inside the office here at Dùndubhan, when he starts in on me. He leans back in his chair, affecting a posture that's relaxed and vaguely threatening. Not that I feel threatened by him. But he's trying to intimidate me, for sure.
Rory rests a hand on the desk. "Are you using my sister?"
"Using her?" I consider reverting to my air of casual disinterest, but I realize he won't appreciate that. Honesty is not my strong suit, but for Cat, I'm trying my best. "I would never use Cat in any way. I love her."
He stares at me for a long, long moment. My skin starts to itch, and I can't stop myself from scratching my neck. At last, he sits forward, bracing his elbows on the desktop.
"Good," he says. "Cat thinks you need to find out if you have any family, other than your birth parents."
"Yes, Jack shares that opinion." I rub my ne
ck, averting my attention to the floor. But I look straight at Rory when I say, "I want to find out the answer. If I have any relatives who aren't bent, it would be…reassuring, I suppose."
Rory nods. "All right, then. I know an investigator who has helped me find missing heirs before, so I know he's good at tracing family. With your permission, I'll contact him."
"Go ahead."
He retrieves a pad of paper from a drawer, places it on the desktop, and picks up a pen. "I'll need to know more about your birth parents."
I give him all the information he asks for, which isn't as trying as I thought it would be. I'd already told the MacTaggarts about Nigel and Julia, since Cat insisted I share everything so her brothers and cousins who are helping me will have all the information they might need. Well, I gave them the abridged version. I don't see how Nigel and Julia could have any connection to Reginald Hewitt and his idiotic vendetta, but I trust Cat's judgment on that.
Now I'm telling Rory, Cat's most hostile brother, all about my darling parents. The unabridged version. Somehow, I know he won't leak the information to anyone else except his investigator.
Once we're done, I leave Rory in the office and make my way to the dining room. Everyone is already there, seated around the table. Another table, longer and narrower, sits against the wall and holds a buffet feast.
Cat saved a seat for me beside her.
Erica and Calli, Lachlan and Aidan's wives, carry in the last of the buffet items. They must have arrived while I was telling Rory all about my original parents.
Lachlan seems surprised to see his wife. "Where are the bairns?"
She sits down beside him. "Relax, honey. The kids are in the cottage with the Brodys."
Calli sits down beside her husband. They kiss with more passion than I would've expected considering the crowd around them.
I lean toward Cat. "Who are these Brodys everyone keeps mentioning?"
"Tavish and Evelyn Brody. She used to be Mrs. Darroch, but Evelyn married Tavish last year. She started out as Rory's housekeeper when he lived here at Dùndubhan, but now she works here and at Rory and Emery's house in North Ballachulish. Tavish is the groundskeeper at Dùndubhan."