Page 23 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which Catriona remembers what it feels like to be left behind.

Catriona…

I’m a fool.

I canna believe that Lucas dinnae stick around. I should have known that he’d disappear the moment my back was turned. I’m going to find that heartless, emotionally distant son of a bitch and then I’m going to-

He really just left me like that? Again?

Three years ago…

Sleep is impossible to come by after Lucas dropped me off. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I get dressed, eagerly checking my phone. I have a research project due, but I’ll put off the investors for a couple of weeks. This is more important.

We’ll need to talk to Da first. I know about his ironclad rule about no fraternization between bodyguards and family, this is different. It’s no fling.

There’s nothing from Lucas.

Frowning, I send a text.

Maybe he’s still asleep. It’s not like he got any rest last night either. Never mind how sore I am, the memory’s making everything south of my waist tingle.

I’ll go to his.

I’ve been to Lucas’ flat before, though not often. He’s always been insistent about keeping the appropriate distance between us. It’s a modest place. I have a pretty good idea of what my father pays his top security people, so Lucas could have his own house by now, maybe two or three if he liked.

Being thrifty is a Scot’s virtue, and Lucas has it in spades. He has some expensive bespoke suits, though not many, and he drives a vintage Land Rover Defender. I know he takes good care of what he has.

Once in front of his building though, my feet canna seem to move. It’s an older neighborhood, not far from mine. People are stepping around me as I stand frozen in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Excuse me.” A harried mum is trying to navigate her stroller around me.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I smile at her distractedly, hurrying up the steps. He’s on the second floor, third door down on the right.

Standing in front of the glossy black door, my heart sinks.

I force myself to knock, and the door moves slightly.

Lucas would never leave his door unlocked, much less ajar.

Pushing it open, I know in a second that he’s gone.

Everything is perfectly tidy, counters are clean, furniture aligned, but there’s an absence of him.

I’ve never been in his bedroom before, and it’s exactly what I expect; bed made with covers tight. His closet door is opposite the bed. I dinnae want to open it, but I do.

Everything is gone. All his clothes, every drawer empty, just a collection of hangers. His bathroom is clear of anything personal. One of the neatly folded towels is still damp and I press it to my face. Pine and old leather.

He went to talk to my father without me.

I dinnae remember the drive to my parent’s house, there’s a lot of honking and a screech of tyres one time.

“Where’s my father?”

Miss Kevin looks up from their desk, face carefully expressionless. “Hello, Catriona. He’s in his office.”

“Th- thank ye Miss Kevin.”

Slamming open Da’s door, I can tell he’s been waiting for me.

“What did ye do to him!”

He leans back, green eyes like mine, chilly and resolved. “Lucas Stewart’s employment from MacTavish International has been severed. He was given the choice of leaving the country and he took it.”

“Lucas wouldn’t have just left- ye forced him!” I childishly shove a pile of papers off his desk, sending them flying like frightened birds. “He’s an honorable fool, I should have known he’d go to ye without me. How dare ye send him away! This is consensual, we want to be together.”

“I knew it was consensual,” he says coldly. “If I’d had the slightest doubt, he’d be dead right now. It dinnae change the fact that he violated the first oath of his position. He’s gone. He agreed to cut off any communication, ye won’t be seeing him ever again.”

“Ye dinnae get to choose that for me!” I dinnae think I’ve ever shouted at my father. Not since I was a bairn, now I’m roaring like a lion. “How fecking dare ye! I’m an adult, ye had no right!”

He surges up from his seat so quickly that I step back.

“I have every right to protect my family in the way I see fit. Ye are not some spoiled rich socialite. Ye are Mafia. Our rules are different for a reason. Consequences are harsh. Lucas chose to leave. This is over. I will assign ye two new bodyguards and ye will accept your Chieftain’s decision.”

This is no longer my Da. He’s the Chieftain and I know he’s one heartless bastard sometimes.

Feck it. “No.” I shake my head furiously. “I’ll go to Lucas then.”

Back in my car, I call him. Instead of ringing through, it goes to a bland recording. “This number is not in service at this time.”

The guard at the gate is carefully trying not to look at me, I’m guessing he knows the whole story by now.

“Open the gates, please.”

He hastily slaps the button and steps back as I accelerate my Porsche through the gap, so close I scrape the paint off one side.

My fury and hurt keep me warm until I pull up to the front door of Lucas’ cottage. The driveway is empty. The blue door is locked.

Lucas left. He took the out Da offered him and he left me.

Now…

Standing on the front step of my parent’s house, I suddenly kick one of the huge planters, hurting my foot and sending it rolling down the stairs, the pottery breaking apart and dirt flying everywhere.

Tracking him down isn’t hard.

I go back to his cottage; his Land Rover is parked outside.

It looks just the same as it did when he carried me in three years ago, slung over his shoulder.

Blue and white flowers blooming in the flowerboxes under the windows.

The warm glow of a single lamp. No one’s on the beach on this stretch of sand.

The forest rears up behind the cottage, intimidating, and dark.

When he opens the door, he’s still wearing the suit he’sdchanged into on the plane, his tie loosened and the first couple of shirt buttons undone. His grey eyes flare briefly before his expression goes blank. “Why are ye here, Cat?”

“Are ye inviting me in, then?”

With a sigh, he steps aside. There’s a study on one side of the hall, with six monitors glowing.

He turns me toward the little front room, which is just as I remembered it.

The long, comfortable couch and battered leather chairs, there’s a nice blaze going in the fireplace, and part of me wonders if he’s been seeing other women here since he left me.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything. If you’re entertaining. ”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, ye eejit! Smooth. Ye dinnae sound like a jealous lunatic at all. As if he’d be calling in six strippers and having a party?

Lucas looks puzzled for a moment before his eyes narrow. “Entertaining? Not currently, no.”

That sends up another flare of jealousy.

“I…” Squaring my shoulders, I glare up at him. “Ye scarpered off. I’d have thought I’d hear a goodbye, at least.”

He leans against the fireplace, folding his arms and staring at me like he’s wondering if I’m a rabid badger, ready to bite him.

“I had news about Dubois' movements, and I had to get to my study here to go through it. It’s the only place I have set up to go through such classified information. The wee bastard is having a mighty tantrum right now. I asked Kenna to tell ye that I had to leave.”

There’s an odd distance between us, energy yearning to reach out and twine along the other but held back, just barely. He cocks his head. “I thought ye’d be celebrating with your family.”

How do I admit that I want to be celebrating with him? That I want to recreate that night in Marabout Saddi’s gardens, the festival, the laughing and sheer giddiness?

I’m confused, and confused Catriona turns into pissy Catriona.

“I hope my father’s paid ye, then,” I manage between tight lips. “It should help in your next venture.”

His eyes turn slate gray. “Ye know I dinnae come for you because of the money. And your insults are poor payment, too.” He straightens, heading for the door.

“Oh, fine! Walk away, won’t ye? It’s not the first time!” I storm up to him, rising on tiptoe to get in his face, jabbing my finger against his chest, which kind of hurts because his chest is very firm. “I’m a fool to think that our time together was anything but business, then. Of course not!”

I’ve been jabbing my finger repeatedly into his chest, shrill, like a fishwife and with a growl, he grabs my wrist and spins me around. I feel the explosion of pain on my arse before the sound of the slap registers. He shoves me against the wall.

“You’ve been provoking me deliberately, like a bad lass.” His mouth is hot against my ear. “You’ve been needing a spanking, haven’t ye, ye little Bessie?”

“How dare-”

“Ach, I dare a lot of things.” His chuckle is more like a growl and I can feel it down between my thighs.

I go up on tiptoe as he slaps my arse again, one on each side, then two more and my skin is aflame, even under my jeans.

“Ye coming here? Ye knew what ye were in for, having a stramash, trying to start a fight.”

He pulls me rapidly toward the back door and for a terrible moment I’m thinking he’s gonna throw me out with my sore bum, humiliated. Then we’re facing the forest behind his cottage and he slaps my arse again. Harshly.

“You have two minutes,” he whispers, a brow raised at my confused expression. “Run, Cat!”

With a gasp, I’m off. I canna let him catch me, I dinnae know why. I run like a deer, dodging branches and leaping over rocks, my trainers digging into the rocky soil. There’s a buzz of adrenaline tearing through me and I laugh breathlessly. I can outrun this arrogant bastard.

There’s a howl behind me and it makes me stumble before taking off again. “Your two minutes are up, ye bad girl!”