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In which it takes a mere forty-five minutes of post-coital bliss for everything to turn to complete shite. Even for a MacTavish, that might be some kind of a record.

Logan…

It’s blissful.

Everything is perfect between us for a full forty-five minutes after I fucked her senseless.

Then, the conversation I’ve been waiting for.

“I need to borrow your phone,” she says.

We’re sitting on the deck off the master bedroom, looking out over the city, though we’re concealed from view by a series of potted trees and flowering plants. May is still chilly in Glasgow, so I’ve turned on the fire pit, and she’s pushing her toes dangerously close to the flame.

“Ye need a new phone of your own. I tracked the signal on your old one until it disappeared somewhere over the Atlantic, so they likely scanned it and then crushed it.”

“Tracking my phone? How did ye- never mind, I dinnae want to know,” she sighs, taking a gloomy gulp of her tea. “I have some money saved. I’ll get another one.”

“Technically, it is my fault that your phone was taken, so it’s only fair that I replace it. We can add in some security features that will be important for your safety.”

Her eyes survey me suspiciously over her mug. “How so?”

“Encrypted data so no one can hack into your messages, the only person who can track ye will be me.”

“I dinnae need anything fancy. I really do need to call Tasgall Scott, he’s the headmaster at the Wallace School and I need to let him know what’s been going on. I’ll be lucky if I dinnae get sacked after disappearing in the middle of the school day and leaving my kids- my students, I mean, alone.” She pushes her tangle of curls back, looking miserable. “The poor bairns must have been so worried when I dinnae come back.”

“We already checked in with Scott after ye were taken. It appears your detective showed up at the school, looking for ye. Also, your neighbor, the one who came tearing out her door with the soup ladle that night?” I chuckle, remembering the woman’s fierceness. “A regular Aife, she was.”

Bella nods approvingly. “Meera is likely her reincarnation. Wait. What do ye mean, ye called the headmaster?”

“We had to let him know why ye disappeared.” I point out.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she sighs. “And what did ye tell him?”

“Not the truth, obviously. I had one of the detectives on our payroll call Scott and explain you’d witnessed a robbery and the men panicked and took ye. He was very concerned about your safety and I assured him ye were fine and you’d call him once everything was settled. Then Detective Christie showed up and stirred the goddamn pot. It’s settled now.”

“What the hell does that mean?” She’s gripping her mug like she’s about to throw it at my head.

“What do ye think it means?”

“Because I’ve seen ye ‘settle’ things, Logan. Settle them in a way most people would classify as ‘murder.’”

“I dinnae go around killing law enforcement, woman! I had her supervisor meet with her and explain that your assault case was out of her hands.”

“I canna see that going well,” she says doubtfully.

Grinning, I remember the supervisor’s exhaustion. “It did not. Ah, and I sent in your temporary resignation.”

“Ye what!” Now my bride is up and charging at me. “What do ye mean, ye sent in my resignation! How could ye?”

“Bella… love…” Hauling her onto my lap, I pin her between my arms and legs until she settles, panting furiously. “Through no fault of your own, mind, your students were into a dangerous situation when ye were kidnapped, aye? Are ye willing to put them at risk until we can finish off Anselm’s business partners?”

Sagging against me, she says bitterly, “Ye had no right. That was my responsibility. Do ye know how hard it is to get substitute teachers with the right qualifications for these kids? We’re going into final term exams and…” Pushing me away, she gets up, stalking to the other side of the deck. “I hate you- this. I hate all of this.”

“A pity.” I say coldly. “I must leave. You’ll stay here today. I’ve assigned Hamish as your personal bodyguard. He’s my best.” She follows me through the bedroom and down the stairs as I shrug on my suit jacket.

“I have things I have to do! People to call. Ye canna just lock me up in here while you’re off doing meetings or murders or whatever it is ye do.”

Furious, I’m fecking furious. I understand why she’s angry. She’s also an ungrateful little Bessie who dinnae seem to understand that I’m trying to keep her alive. Hamish is waiting at the front door in his standard black suit, a single brow raised at my thunderous countenance.

Turning my head so she can see my lips move, I say, “My wife stays here today. Do ye have her phone?”

“Aye, Boss.” He holds up the iPhone box and nods politely as I stalk out the door. “Your uncle has some information to discuss at your earliest convenience.”

“Thank ye. Keep a close eye on Mrs. MacTavish.”

I know Arabella’s still standing in the hall, but I dinnae look back.

Arabella…

Well, that could have gone better.

Hamish clears his throat. “Mrs. MacTavish, I’m Hamish MacDougall, I will be responsible for your personal safety.” He hands me a white box. “Here’s your new phone. The boss wanted ye to have one right away.”

Looking down at the phone, I try to compose myself. “I see. How does this bodyguarding business work, Mr. MacDougall?”

“Please call me Hamish, ma’am.”

“Then call me Arabella, please.”

He looks like I just punched his ticket for a first-class trip to hell. “That would be inappropriate, Mrs. MacTavish. I canna do that.”

“Okay, Mr. MacDougall,” I sigh, “how does this work?”

“Today, I fear the boss has requested ye stay here. Security conditions are unstable with too many unknown variables. I anticipate this should be corrected soon.”

“Do ye know, Mr. MacDougall, that when ye get anxious ye sound like a British butler?”

“Ma’am.”

Oh dear, I’ve offended the man responsible for keeping me alive. Not the best start. Adding to my guilt is the fact that he’s taken great care to stand right in front of me when he speaks, to make sure I can read his lips.

“Sorry, Hamish. I’m a bit off today. I do have a lot of phone calls to make. I’ll uh… just be upstairs for a while, then. Ye dinnae need to be in the room with me or anything, aye?”

He’s trying to hide a smile, I can tell. “No ma’am. I’ll be here if ye need me. Are ye comfortable with me knocking loudly on your door if I need to speak with ye?”

“That’s very thoughtful of ye, Hamish. Thanks.”

Tugging the covers back into place on the bed, I eye the silver cell phone that’s waiting for me to turn it on.

Hit the start button, it whispers, you know you want to. I’m the iPhone 16 Pro Max. I have a 5x optical zoom camera. The largest display, the longest battery life…

Suddenly the memory of Logan’s God-given assets is vividly clear in my mind, the largest, the longest… The persistent soreness south of my waistline is turning into a throbbing at the mere thought of my new husband’s dick and what he can do with it.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m angry with the high-handed bastard. And I’m getting turned on right now?

I have to distract myself before I lose my mind and call him, demanding he come back and attend to “my needs.” I was never a sex fiend before. I liked sex, even though my experience was somewhat limited. But with Logan… Size does matter. So does technique, and enthusiasm, and he is gifted with all of those things.

“Take a cold shower, ye pervert,” I lecture myself. “Call the school…” A bolt of sorrow pierces my heart but it’s time to soldier on. “Then ye can call Meera. She must be so worried.”

The cold shower was not at all pleasant, but at least my mind is clear and I can call Headmaster Scott with some composure. It is a mixture of awkward and sad, and we struggle through it.

“I’m disappointed to see you leaving mid-term like this,” he says. He has a deep voice so his feelings are made clear, hearing-wise.

“I’m terribly sorry,” I stammer. “Maybe… maybe I could tutor my students one on one? Online? I’m happy to do anything I can to make the transition smoother.”

“That would be very helpful. Why don’t you contact Lucy and set up a schedule?”

“Aye, Headmaster. I’ll do that right away. Will you please tell my students that I…” Miss them? I’m so sorry they could have been hurt because of me? “That I have the utmost faith in their abilities and I know they’ll do well on their finals.”

We end the conversation with more polite noises and I notice, with a sinking heart, that he dinnae mention me coming back next year.

I try not to think about why all my old contacts are programmed into this new phone - along with a long list of people all with the last name of MacTavish - and call Meera.

“I want to come over.”

Eyeing Hamish, who’s standing sentinel in the main hall, I shake my head. “I dinnae think we’re getting Girl’s Night. I’m new to this bodyguard business but his eye starts twitching if I’m on one floor and he’s on the other.”

“How do I not know you’re being held under duress?” Meera is Facetiming with me, her eyes narrowed and darting around as if to see if there’s someone behind me, holding a gun to my head.

Turning the phone around, I spin in a circle. “Coast is clear. It’s really me. I’m sorry about all the madness, I know ye have been stressed, aye? Are ye baking?”

“Like ye canna believe,” she agrees, gloomy. “Even the kids are begging me to stop. I’ll tell ya what’s been happening here and then you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

So, she tells me about three visits from an increasingly grim Detective Christie, how a man and a woman who “looked like graduates from MI6’s School of Stern Expressions,” moved several boxes out of my flat, smiling pleasantly when she threatened to call the police.

“The most terrifying thing was realizing that Detective Christie dinnae know where ye were, either,” she finishes, looking a wee bit tearful.

“I’m so sorry. About all of it.” I’m drowning in guilt right now, both for what she’s been through and what I canna tell her. Logan and I agreed on a cover story over dinner last night. I agreed with him that too much knowledge is not a good thing.

“The two men that night? They were there to kill me.” There’s a crashing sound and I wince. “Was that one of your mother’s pottery bowls?”

“Never ye mind. Keep talking.”

“At the fundraiser, I read the lips of two men across the room. They were planning to kill another guest. Logan MacTavish. I hurried over and pretended to spill my tray so I could get close enough to warn him.”

“Oh! I always knew your lip-reading was going to come in handy!” Meera shouts. “I dinnae know whether to feel gleeful or terrified right now. What happened, then?”

“Someone reported back to their boss when the plan failed, and they targeted me. I dinnae know how they found me so fast, but fortunately, uh… So did Logan.”

There’s a short silence as she processes this. “There’s some mighty large gaps in this storyline, my friend.”

“I know,” I agree miserably.

“Is this a dinnae know, canna say situation?”

“That would be it exactly.”

Meera gives a low, slow sigh. The kind she gives her kids when they’ve come home with a note from their teacher and she’s praying for patience. “Tell me what ye can.”

“They took me, the next day at school-”

“But those guys were all carved up!”

“Oh, these were new guys. I know. There’s a lot of bad guys in this story. Thank god, they dinnae hurt my kids, my students.” For me, this is the best part of the story thus far, the only part that matters. I tell her about the kidnapping. I dinnae mention the horrifying human organ trafficking. There’s mention of Logan’s magnificent rescue, the drinking, and…

“Ye are not telling me ye are married to this MacTavish!” She’s pulling at her hair in agitation. “Even I know about the MacTavishes, they’re a crime family, and-”

“Hold off, Meera.” I rub my eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but we canna discuss that. Here’s the most important part, are ye ready?”

“I dinnae know how the hell to answer that after this odyssey but aye, go ahead.”

“Ye gave me your obsidian arrowhead that night, remember? When ye brought me dinner? I found it in my pocket after I was kidnapped, I must have put it there before I went to school, it made me feel safe.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she says happily.

“It saved my life. The bad man, well, the worst bad man had a gun to my head.” Her breath catches and she slaps her hand over her mouth. “I had it in my hand and I- I cut him pretty badly. He dropped the gun and…” My stomach twists, the image of all that blood is back. “Ye saved my life. That arrowhead was the only weapon I had and it saved me.”

Tears are trickling down Meera’s face, she’s saying something but I canna hear it. Yanking her hand away from her mouth, she gasps, “Sorry! Sorry about that! I’m so happy it helped ye. I’m so proud of ye, so brave, ye were. I canna imagine…” Wiping her face briskly, she says, “Well, what happens now?”

“I’m not sure. Logan, that high-handed bastard, turned in my resignation at the Wallace School. I want to murder him but he’s right. There’s still a… uh… a situation. I canna risk the safety of the students again. So, I’m here, in this grand house, just…”

She nods wisely. “This Logan needs to make some plans with ye if he values his life. Ye are a nightmare when ye have free time.”

I would like to say something biting, but she’s unfortunately correct. “I had my whole life laid out. I knew every step I needed to take, going back to Uni for my graduate degree, maybe one day opening my own tutoring company...”

“Marriage is a matter of give and take, but this is not a normal marriage. Though it’s no bad thing, being a MacTavish. You’re protected against everything but the flu or bad weather.”

“Oh, it’s temporary,” I say confidently. “Once the whole the thing is cleared up, we’ll get a divorce.”

There’s a sharp rap on the open door and Logan is standing there, looking just as chilly as when he’d left.

“Uh, speaking of which, the man himself is home, I’d better go.”

“We will talk soon, and often,” she promises. “Shite! My bread is burning! Bye for now.”

Logan in a suit is just as delicious as Logan in black tactical gear, or Logan naked. But his hazel eyes are cold and it dinnae seem the moment to compliment his attire.

“I’m gonna change and then we’ll talk.”

Watching his broad back as he heads up the stairs, I’m guessing this won’t be a pleasant one.

Aife is a powerful warrior queen from Celtic mythology.