Page 25 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which Lucas and Catriona were not expecting that.

Lucas…

Cat keeps glancing at me in the car, heading to her parent’s house and I put her hand on my thigh, covering it with mine.

“Ye know, we dinnae have to do this,” she says crossly, “I’m thirty-three, for god’s sake! I dinnae need permission to date.”

“This is different, and ye know it.” I glance at her, she’s chewing her lip anxiously. “Ye dinnae need to worry, love. The Chieftain is expecting this.”

She frowns. “What do ye mean?”

“When he sent me away three years ago - after punching me in the face and knocking me on my arse - I told him that I would be back in four years for ye. I agreed to his demand that I not contact ye, but I told him on the phone that day in Setti Fatma that I would be making my intentions clear. ”

“That is so old-fashioned and yet oddly romantic.” She squeezes my hand. “This should be quite the show.”

It’s late afternoon and most of the crowd seems to be gone from MacTavish mansion when we pull up. One of the guards at the gate looks in my car window and breathes a sigh of relief. “We were feart that Miss MacTavish got kidnapped again.”

“Dinnae ye even joke about that, Charlie!” Cat shouts from the passenger seat.

“Apologies!” He’s suddenly pale, smacking the button to make the gate open faster.

“Ye did not need to hear that.” I squeeze her hand, to my surprise, she laughs.

“Remember that I was raised by a family of arseholes and we defuse every awkward moment with poorly-timed humor? Charlie’s a good one.

I’m just surprised one of my brothers dinnae manage to say it first. I’m sure when I get my phone back there will be loads of texts from them, each more stupid than the last.”

Walking into the Chieftain’s office is easier this time, holding Cat’s hand. She pauses for a moment, looking terribly sad.

“What’s your worry, love?”

“I only wish…” she looks at her dad’s door, “I wi sh it had been like this three years ago. So much time lost.”

Kissing the top of her head, I promise, “We start over now, aye?”

“My girl!” Mala hurries over as we step into the office, “I’d pictured having a huge dinner tonight to welcome you both home, but…” She eyes us with a slight smile. “I see you had other plans?”

“We had some things to work out, Mum.” Cat hugs her and then turns to the Chieftain, locking eyes. “Da, Lucas and I are coming to ye together, this time.”

“I see that.” He’s wearing a faint smile and perhaps a wee bit of satisfaction. “Before we can speak of personal matters, Badis wanted us to call about an… important matter, he said? Do either of ye know what it’s about?”

I frown, “Dubois couldn’t have connected him to us, could he? I dinnae want Si Badis fighting Dubois off because he sheltered us.”

He opens a Zoom call. “Let’s find out, then.”

Marabout Badis tilts up his camera and smiles, looking genuinely pleased to see us. “Greetings, my friends.”

“Brother, I canna thank ye enough for what ye did for my daughter.” The Chieftain’s expression is calm, but I’m not the only one noticing his voice is thick with emotion .

“It was an honor, you know this, Cormac. And Mala, you’re there? I hope you’re well.”

Greetings are made all around and then Marabout Badis’ expression turns businesslike. “I wished to speak to Lucas and Catriona to see where they’d like me to send their marriage certificate.”

For a moment, there’s utter silence and then Mala chokes out, “I beg your pardon?”

“Their marriage certificate.” The wily old bastard has the nerve to seem surprised. “They were wed during the festival here at my home two days ago. Did they not tell you?”

Cat makes a croaking noise, and I squeeze her hand. While everyone else is staring at Marabout Badis, I’m watching the Chieftain. He’s running a finger along his lower lip and he… dinnae look surprised.

“Si Badis, I speak Moroccan Arabic. I dinnae hear anything about a wedding,” I insert myself, since no one else seems capable of speech.

“Then you didn’t listen closely enough to the blessings,” he says. “Each couple had their wedding vows renewed or spoken for the first time. I bound your hands together with the ceremonial cord. Catriona, you wore the henna bridal patterns on your hands and wrists.”

“I dinnae…” Cat clears her throat. “I was not aw are the henna had a special meaning.” She looks down at her arms, the color still clear and precise.

“I find this to be a bit of a surprise,” he says smoothly. “But the ceremony is legal and binding, I assure you.”

Gazing down at my… holy feck, at my wife? I see that she’s wearing an expression that looks like she’s been hit on the back of her head with a cricket bat. “Cat? Are ye all right?”

“I just…” she makes a couple of attempts at speech and ends with a sort of a gurgle. “This is…”

“This is most unexpected,” the Chieftain finishes her thought.

Now, Marabout Badis seems deeply disappointed.

“We are a small and ancient sect. Our wedding ceremonies are not like a traditional Muslim wedding, but they are just as binding and holy. These vows were made under the new moon and with the blessing in the name of Allah. This union can’t be dismissed lightly. ”

“Please send the certificate to me,” I say, “I’ll text you my address.” I dinnae know what to think, but I must have the options available to know what to do. This is all too conveniently timed.

Cat dinnae need more surprises.

“How would one get…” Shite, why is this so pa inful to ask? “How would we get a divorce?”

Her head shoots up and she glares at me, jade eyes blazing.

“It would require a year as husband and wife before you can approach me for a dissolution of your vows.” Badis reeks of disapproval, I can nearly smell it through the phone.

“It seems we have a lot to talk about, aye? Badis, can we speak later?” The Chieftain takes over again, ending the call with the usual pleasantries before leaning back in his chair. “A kidnapping, an extraction, and a marriage?” He shakes his head. “This dinnae go to plan.”

Mala’s shock is fading and she’s looking a bit pleased. “I didn’t expect it to happen like this, sudden and abrupt, though that does seem to be the MacTavish way.” She shoots a bit of a glare at her husband. “I am very pleased to call you my son-in-law.”

Cat lets out a little gurgling sound and that’s my cue, putting my arm around her. “I think we should talk in private, aye?”

She looks up at me, pale and wide-eyed, but she steps closer to me, close enough for her arm to brush mine. “Uh-huh.”

***

Feart - Scottish slang for afraid.

Si - an Arabic term of respect for important or high-ranking people.