Page 21 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which there is a Multitude of MacTavishes.

Lucas…

Her brothers surround Cat like the SIS and hoist her into the SUV in seconds. I’ll let it go because I need to speak with Raul, but they’re not boxing my lass in once we’re on the jet.

She’s prone to overthinking, my Cat, and I’m not gonna let her start questioning last night, doubting what we said to each other.

The jet is waiting on the tarmac at the little airfield just outside of Setti Fatma, engines already running. I cut in front of Wallace and Duncan to climb the jet stairs right behind Cat and follow her to a bank of leather seats that are in groups of four but can swivel for privacy.

I nudge her gently into one of the seats and take the one next to her.

She looks up at me, eyes wide and questioning. “We still have things to talk about.” I fasten her seatbelt for her, “I know ye need a bit of facetime with your brothers first.”

A sly grin crosses her plump lips. There’s my Cat. “A grand idea, they never stop blethering on.”

“We understand each other then.” I lean closer, whispering, “I wish this jet had a bedroom.”

She flushes scarlet. “None of that now! Ye want my brothers to shoot ye?”

“I’m close to not caring. There’s so much I want to do with ye, lass. More specifically, to ye.” Just then Michael and Duncan pointedly settle themselves in the seats facing us and time for filthy talk is over.

For now.

It’s not until we’re an hour away from Edinburgh when the rest of the crew gets distracted enough for me to turn Cat’s seat around to speak privately. “Ye need more water. Ye know dehydration makes your muscles lock up.”

“You remember that?” She obediently takes a big swallow of the fancy water on board that likely costs twenty pounds a bottle.

“Lass. Dinnae ye know by now that I remember everything about ye now? That lying flat on your back when ye sleep wakes ye up with wicked muscle cramps? Why I always had to shove electrolyte drinks at ye after a workout, because you’d forget? ”

Her fingers tighten on the bottle, blinking up at me innocently. “Is that all ye remember? My delicate, infirm nature?”

“Ach, well now that’s a different thing. Ye dinnae think I canna recall how ye sound when I’m inside ye?” My voice drops to a whisper. “Your little moans and how ye shake, a full body shiver when ye come?”

“You’ll be stopping that sort of talk this minute,” she says primly, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone - such as her nosy twin - is listening in.

“Later, then.”

“So…” she clears her throat. “What will ye be doing then if ye dinnae want to work with my family?”

“I’m still good mates with Raul there,” I nod toward him, dead asleep and his arm half out of his sling and flopping off the chair. “Along with twenty others. I’ll be starting my own security firm. Everything from cybercrime to personal protection.”

Her eyes narrow. “Ye best not be guarding any girl’s body but mine.”

I’m liking the jealousy.

“Hey sis,” Duncan interrupts us. “Kenna sent along a change of clothes for ye and some fancy-smelling hair care shite. Ye wanna have a shower on board and freshen up? Though ye dinnae look half the wreck I expected to see.”

“Such a charming thing, ye are.” She’s not appreciating the interruption, either. Looking down at her wrinkled dress, she says, “A shower would be grand, though, and a change of clothes.”

As if we dinnae shower together in the opulent shower in our suite of rooms at Marabout Badis’ home.

Twice.

Taking the bag from Duncan, she gives me a warm smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Save the dress,” I murmur, nodding toward the pretty violet and green gown. She winks before making her way to the back.

By the time she returns, the pilot announces that we’re about to land. It takes some swift moves to cut off her brothers on the way to the Mercedes, though this time, I notice Duncan stepping back with a grin. There’s one on my side.

Cat keeps her hands folded in her lap, but she’s pushing her thigh against mine, her shoulder pressed against me and I can catch the slightest scent of her arousal.

Feck. I canna show up at the MacTavish mansion with a stonner.

Shifting slightly, I think about turnips.

Granny knickers. Oozing wounds. It’s not helping me much .

As we draw up to the gates, Cat’s hand instinctively grabs mine and I squeeze her fingers gently. “You’re safe. You’re home,” I say softly. “All good things start from here, aye?”

“Aye,” she whispers back.

I was prepared for the avalanche of MacTavishes that would descend upon my lass the moment she was out of the car, but they’re packed so tight around her that it looks like they’ve lifted her and carried her into the house like tuna in a can.

The enormous two-story front hall sends up a rousing echo from the marble floors to the chandelier as everyone calls out at once. This is the part where I wait.

While she’s hugging her sobbing mother, the Chieftain comes up to me, holding out his hand like Michael did. An apology. Gratitude. “Ye brought my girl home.” I can hear the emotion in his voice. “Thank ye. For everything, thank ye. Ye will always have a position in this family, whatever ye like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I take more satisfaction in saying this than I should. “I have a plan in the works, a company of my own.”

“Really now?” He’s eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and respect. Turning down the Chieftain of the MacTavish clan is not often done. “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime soon.”

I smile, and say nothing. Let him wait. I waited three years to come back for my Cat.

The crowd of cousins is pulling her down the hallway to the great room, portraits of long-dead ancestors glowering down at them. She looks over her shoulder, searching for me, and I give her a reassuring smile.

The Chieftain misses nothing, of course.

“It appears she’s forgiven ye for leaving, which is grand, because she hasn’t yet forgiven me for sending ye away.

This is a good time for a fresh start, dinnae ye think?

” He slaps me on the back. “Come on, then. I’m breaking out the sixty-year-old Scotch for this moment. ”

While Cat’s getting her reunion, the MacTavish men are giving me mine.

“Damn good work, brother.” Ethan hands me another drink.

He’s known in mafia circles as the Scottish Demon, renowned for being able to find anything or anyone.

“I could not have done a faster, cleaner job myself. I only wish ye could have taken out that bastard Dubois, I’m thinking he was nestled all snug in a panic room? ”

“Most likely,” I agree, still watching Cat be passed around the relatives. “I’m looking forward to finishing him off in the bloodiest possible fashion.”

Ethan’s eyes light up. “You’d better be including me on that mission.”

“It would be an honor.”

“Shut it,” he says. “You’re the one being honored tonight and it’ll likely take more than one or two parties and dinners.” I school my expression quickly but he must have caught the “Hell, no!” I had to choke back, because he laughs heartlessly.

The MacTavishes are a grand family who fight fiercely and love each other just as hard.

But right now, I’d like to put them all in an eighteen-wheeler truck, send them off to the dingiest parts of London and leave them there.

I keep moving through the crowd and I’m one step closer, one step back getting next to my girl, then someone else stops me to share their gratitude.

Kenna, Cat’s closest cousin, nudges my shoulder. “All the love getting a bit much, then?”

I hold up my thumb and forefinger two centimeters apart.

“Aye, a full-on, frontal assault of our family is a bit much. Sloan, Ethan’s wife, calls us the MacTavi, since we’re always in a clump. A clump of MacTavi, not as threatening, aye?” She grins, “Ah, got ye to laugh. Well, your chest moved like ye might be laughing.”

Kenna eyes me, her shrewd blue eyes searching my face. “I have not yet confirmed this with Catriona, but I’m thinking ye two have moved past the whole three years of nothing to feelin’ fond of each other again.”

Raising my brow at her statement, I take a drink.

“Ah, reticent one, I remember.” We stand together in companionable silence, watching the river of family flow around Cat, keeping her in their current.

“Ye need to know this,” she blurts out. “She’ll likely tell ye but I’m beating her to it tonight.

There was no one for Catriona when ye left.

No one. I was truly feart that you’d broken her heart for good. ”

Kenna gives me another searching glare. “Ye need to know ye are it for my cousin. I’m telling ye, because ye better be feeling the same. I was always on Team Lucas, even when I thought going to the Chieftain on your own without talking to Catriona first was complete shite. Dinnae ye let me down.”

“Thank ye.” I mean that with everything in me. “I’m never leaving her again.”

“Then I shall use all my excellent powers of persuasion and manipulation through guilt and regret to make sure Uncle Cormac is saying ‘hell, yes!’ when ye two make it clear how ye feel.”

“Those powers of yours are really your most appealing quality, ye know that.” I toast her as she beams modestly.

“Oh, I do.”

My phone rings, and it’s Ryan.

“Excuse me,” I nod to Kenna, moving away. “Is this about ye being the biggest, Ryan? Am I gonna have to say it again?”

“Not this time, though I enjoy hearing it. Dubois is on the move, and based on the trail of destruction he’s leaving behind, he’s raging hard.”

“Let me get to my system, download everything ye have, please.” I look back at my Cat, still surrounded by the cousins. I dinnae think a tyre iron could separate them.

Kenna’s watching me with a bit of concern. “Bad news?”

“Bad news and good.” I hesitate, looking for Cat again. “Will ye her I had to leave? I’ll come for her in the morning.”

“Aye, I’ll just barge through the ticket of MacTavi and let her know.”

I dinnae want to leave Cat. Every time we separate, it feels like she could disappear in a puff of smoke. Dubois’ the only reason strong enough to pull away. I head for my car, placing calls as I go.

** *

Blether - Scottish slang for talking too much or chattering.

Stonner - Scottish slang for an erection.