Page 16

In which there are so many MacTavishes

Logan…

I think my bonnie new wife handled the morning rather well.

By the time we boarded the MacTavish jet and headed for home, everyone on board had already heard about our marriage. My family are all terrible gossips.

Arabella is looking around, wide-eyed, as I bring her on board, so she jumps a little when our pilot nods her head and smiles. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. MacTavish, and congratulations on your marriage.”

“Please call me Arabella,” she says instantly, “It’s nice to meet ye, Captain…?”

“Ah, my apologies, I’m Captain Elizabeth MacTavish.”

“Of course, ye are… I mean, oh, that’s… there’s a lot of ye then.” Arabella smiles uncomfortably, but it turns genuine when Elizabeth laughs and squeezes her hand.

“Married into the family, like you.”

“Our captain here comes from a highly decorated career in the Royal Air Force,” Da says proudly. “There’s no better pilot in our fleet.”

“Your fleet?” My bride’s looking a little overwhelmed.

Elizabeth leans in, speaking precisely and I’m appreciating her thoughtfulness. “I think you will find that the female relatives will be very happy to tell you all about the clan and its eccentricities. Of which there are many.”

“That’s enough of that,” I say hastily. “We should find our seats.” I take Arabella’s hand and lead her down the aisle before our pilot can prime her with even more questions that will be difficult for me to answer. There’s a smaller seating area near the back of the main cabin with two seats facing another pair and a low table between them. “It’s a wee bit quieter here. Though with the MacTavish clan, ‘quiet’ is a mighty subjective thing.”

She sits down, looking all stiff and uncomfortable. It’s been a lot, I know, and things are only going to get more complicated once my sister and cousins get involved. She’s going to need this flight to settle herself.

I kiss her hand and smooth a blanket over her lap before seating myself next to her. “It can get cold on these private jets. Have ye flown before? I mean, when you weren’t being kidnapped?”

“Flying here to Denmark was my first, but since they knocked me out when they took me from the Wallace Academy, it’s not one I remember,” she says wryly. “I woke up in a helicopter as it was landing in Anselm’s compound. This is, apparently, my week for many firsts.”

“I intend to make the kidnapping a once-off, but I’m happy to recreate some of the other firsts whenever ye like, such as getting married.”

Leaning away from me, she raises a haughty brow. “I think ye can only do the getting married thing once per couple.”

Kai and Da join us, taking the seats across from ours. “Not in this family,” Da says. He distracts her as the jet takes off with the story of my Uncle Cameron and Aunt Morana, who have renewed their vows at least a dozen times all over the world. I note that he glosses over the fact that Cameron kidnapped Morana from her intended marriage in Moscow, characterizing it more as a ‘rescue.’

My clan is big on revisionist history.

When the two of them eventually wander off to play poker with some of the team, Arabella relaxes another fraction, looking out the window. “It’s so beautiful up here.” Resting her head against the seat, she smiles when I produce a pillow for her. “You’re being very attentive, Mr. MacTavish. Afraid I’ll lose my nerve and run screaming the second we land?”

“Nah. I’ve got longer legs, Mrs. MacTavish. I’ll just chase ye down.”

Pursing her lips, she says, “I’m not sure about the last name. We could go by MacTavish-Blair.”

“As long as you’re wearing my ring, I dinnae care about the details.”

“Really?” Turning in her seat, my bride eyes me suspiciously. “Ye really dinnae care about something like that? Ye being a big, bad MacTavish?”

“I know who I am.” I take her hand, holding her ring up to eye level. “And this is part of who I am now, being your husband. It’s a thing we take seriously in this clan. So, no. The name is less important than the meaning.”

“This is a lot, Logan,” she says quietly. “A towering, overwhelming metric tonne of things to process.”

“Aye.” I kiss her ring, then each knuckle, then the palm of her hand. “Try to get some sleep. You’re still recovering from drinking your body weight in alcohol.” My bride’s complexion is turning a noticeable shade of green just from the mention of it. Pulling the shade on the window shut, I kiss her forehead. “Get some rest.”

Kai looks up from the poker game and grins as I amble over. “Ye know, brother, even in the historical immediacy of MacTavish weddings, this one was off the charts.”

I point a finger at him and my Da. “Neither of ye have a word to say about it. Da, ye holding Mum down on the couch while poor Father Barclay married ye- aye, Uncle Lachlan told me the whole story.”

“Of course he did,” Da muttered.

“And dragging Luna to the Registrar’s office after plucking her off Hell Island, brother? Not your most romantic moment.” I’m enjoying Kai’s look of irritation until he fires back.

“At least we were sober. And I dinnae have a bevy of women I had to pay off with gifts and jewelry to get ‘em to go away. I’m thinking you’ll have a lot of explaining to do once all the girls find out you’re married and ye take your new bride out in public.” Kai smiles happily, obviously picturing it.

“Does Arabella know marriage in the MacTavish clan is for life?” Da asks quietly, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Again, I’m not the first MacTavish who started off with a wife that thought it was a temporary measure.” Rubbing my forehead, I try to control my temper. “And they’ve all turned out to be happy matches. Ours will be, too.”

Arabella’s lashes are a thick fan against her cheekbones; her skin is flushed faintly pink as she sleeps. She’s curled up against that cashmere blanket like a kitten and I’ve never been so jealous of a piece of fabric before.

“I have to be honest,” Michael grins, finishing his drink, “when I heard about your midnight trip to the registrar’s, I swear I heard the clip-clopping of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. You’re the last one of us I pictured settling down.”

“Old man, ye need to trick some innocent creature who has not met ye before and get her to marry ye before she realizes you’re about to become the next Chieftain of the MacTavish Clan.”

“I’m not old,” Michael scowls, “I’m thirty-three, ye arse.”

The truth is, Michael, the oldest son of our Chieftain Uncle Cormac, has been pretending for years that he’s not pining for Sophie. She’s the daughter of his family’s housekeeper and currently away at Uni. It seems mean-spirited to give him shite about it.

Maybe I’ll save that for the next time he tries to take the piss with me.

“Does Mum know yet?” I ask, knowing the news likely spread like wildfire through the clan before I even ravished my bride after the ceremony. Groaning silently, I try to will my unmanageable cock back down. Sporting a stonner in front of my father is unacceptable, even for me.

“Aye, of course.” His blue eyes are twinkling and I can tell he’s fighting a grin. “She’s wanting a face to face meeting as soon as possible.”

“Of course she is,” I groan.

“I was thinking that we could hire an instructor for weekly classes in sign language,” Kai offers.

“It’s a grand idea,” Da agrees. “Do ye know…” his voice drops to a murmur, “how long Arabella has before her hearing is completely gone?”

“Unlike my brother here, I dinnae want to paw through her private medical records. I’ll wait for her to tell me. But the sign language lessons are… thank ye. I appreciate ye wanting to be part of it.”

Kai shrugs. “She’s one of us. Of course we do.”

This is it.

This is why all the other infuriating, exhausting, ridiculous shite my family can come up with means nothing in the face of family loyalty. They’ve accepted Arabella in without a second’s hesitation; the same way we’ve welcomed every shell-shocked MacTavish bride.

My wife will find that her new family makes putting up with all my reckless, impulsive actions more than worth it.

Take the piss - UK slang for intentionally annoying someone.

Stonner - Scottish slang for an erection.