Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bryn
The conversation with my father haunts me, even after Mac’s done everything in his power to eviscerate it from my memory.
He’s kissed me, he's held me, he drove me back to his chalet in the mountains.
We weren't followed. In a strange twist of irony, my father ensured that.
But I'm a little nervous that the Cowen Clan won't buy my story. Hell, I’m not sure I believe it myself.
My father doesn’t know that I’ll betray him. He doesn’t know that I can’t bear to hurt anyone, especially someone I’ve feelings for, like… Mac.
I don’t know how I’ll get away. I don’t know how I’ll get out of this.
After the surprise attack from Michail, I called my father. There was a reason why I asked Mac to wait in the other room.
I told my father exactly what he wanted to hear and exactly what I needed to.
“I’ve got Mac Cowen in the palm of my hand. He’s fallen for it, for everything, and your henchman almost ruined it.”
“You’ve got him?” my father asked, and I could hear the glee in his voice.
“Aye. He’s brought me back to his family. They trust me. I need time to do this right.”
Time. So much time. I need a plan for how I’ll get away from it all, how I’ll do it without betraying Mac.
“What did Michail do?”
I told him as much as I dared. Michail will either face the music or be excused from my father’s staff. Maybe both.
Now I’ll have Mac alone, without interference from anyone… anyone on my side of the family, anyway.
I finish my work and put it away. We join his family for dinner, and it’s as enjoyable as breakfast. They’re smart and witty, and I love his sisters and mum. I’m damn near green with envy they’ve a family like this, but grateful they’ve welcomed me.
I don’t eat much, though. My nerves are fraught.
But that night, Mac erases the worry from me. I can’t think of my father, or my family, or anything at all, when he fucks me so hard and masterfully my legs are made of jelly when he’s through.
We lie by the fire, completely spent. He's got a soft, wool blanket wrapped around both of us. We lie there in the silence, skin to skin, my head on his chest, as he gently rubs my back.
“You had a long day,” he says, wrapping his leg around mine as he gently strokes his fingers through my hair.
“Aye,” I say on a yawn. My eyes feel so heavy, I’m going to close them for a minute. Just a minute. “So did you.”
“Eh, didn’t work anywhere near as much as you did.”
“But I’m finished,” I say on a yawn. “Thank God.” I yawn again. “Fran will come by tomorrow to pick things up, so I can see her for the final fitting.”
“Excellent. I’m so glad you finished, darlin’. I know that weighed on you.” I don’t think he much cares about her dress fitting, but he definitely cares about me.
And I like that.
I smile to myself, nestled in the comfort of his arms, listening to the sound of the crackling fire.
I begin to lose consciousness, drifting in and out of sleep.
I don’t know how much longer it is before he picks me up, but the fire’s died down and it's much darker outside.
He stands, holding me against his chest, and walks me to the bedroom.
I'm too tired to move. I just lie there, my head against his chest.
I hear the gentle creak of the door, then he walks me to the bed and lays me down. I've never been treated like this before. No one's ever looked after me, or taken care of me like this. And it's so beautifully simple and sweet, I want to stay here forever. I hate the thought of it ending.
How will I ever go back to the life I lived before him?
It isn’t just about me, though, I know it isn’t. If he cares at all about me, will I hurt him? I can’t bear the thought of dimming the light in his bright blue eyes.
But I have to go with this, I have to continue the plan while I formulate the next. And I’ll enjoy what I can while we’re still together.
So I just let him. I don't fight it. I roll over, but I'm a little more awake now. I close my eyes as he lifts the blanket and drapes it over my shoulder.
There's a distant buzzing of a phone, and I hear him leave the room.
I'm somewhere between sleep and being awake, and I can't really hear his voice, just the gentle rise and fall of it, as if he's keeping his voice quiet so he doesn't wake me.
I can tell he's agitated about something, but I don't know what. I try to open my eyes, but they're too heavy. I fall back to sleep.
I wake the next day suddenly, one thought on my mind. I sit up suddenly.
Did I erase my texts?
I don’t know what I dreamt about when I was asleep, but I’m wide awake and in a panic.
I blink and look beside me, but Mac isn’t there. There's one thought insistent on my mind. I don't know if I dreamt about it, or if it was my subconscious working while I slept, but it suddenly dawned on me, I don’t have my phone.
And worse… if Mac looked at my texts and saw anything that I've texted my father it could be incriminating. It’d damn near destroy us.
I look at the bedside table to where I usually put my phone when I'm sleeping, but it isn't there. Now I'm really beginning to panic. I don't call for Mac, because I don't want him to know that I'm worried. I don't want him to suspect anything at all.
From where I’m lying, I can see the door to the toilet, but it’s ajar and the light’s off. He isn’t there, then.
What did I do with my phone? Where the hell is it?
I try to quell my rising panic as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
I quickly throw the sheets and blankets to the side and walk over to Mac's dresser.
I take out one of his T-shirts, and quickly toss it over my head before I go to the living room.
He isn't there either. Where the hell is my phone?
Did he take it? Would he just take it like that with no warning at all?
God.
I find my bag hanging on a hook beside the jacket that I wore the night before.
I rifle through it. No phone. I try to think about the last time that I used it.
We were up at the house… We had dinner with his family…
I pulled up my phone to show Cairstina that I downloaded the e-books so I could read the romances they’ve been talking about, and after that…
I don't have any recollection of using it.
I had a little wine, we ended up back at his chalet…
Did I leave it up at the house?
Oh, bugger.
bugger bugger bugger!
I kick the couch in a moment of utter frustration, just as the front door opens and Mac walks in. He’s sweating and panting, like he’s just come in from a run. He looks at me and grins but gives me a funny look.
“Mornin’, beautiful.”
Thump, goes my bloody heart.
He kisses my cheek, then leans down and begins to unfasten his boots. "Something bothering you? Did I really just see you kick my sofa?"
I bite my lip because I'm embarrassed. I shouldn't have kicked his sofa like a child.
“Just stubbed my toe is all,” I lie. I give him a sheepish look. "Sorry."
“No worries, darlin’.” He gives me that lopsided grin that shows his dimple. “Want me to kiss it better?”
I may be in love with you, Mac Cowen.
I laugh at that, as he kicks his second boot off. He can’t know what I’m thinking.
“No, but thanks. I’m fine. I was a little frustrated because I couldn't find my mobile. Have you seen it?"
He shakes his head and looks as perplexed as I do. "No, sorry, I haven't. When's the last time you had it?"
"Up at the house last night at dinner. I was showing Cairstina something… bugger, Mac, it’s got to be back up at the house.”
He nods. “I’ll call and ask if anyone’s found it.”
I wince. I hate the thought of anyone finding it, reading my texts or worse. I have private information on that phone.
"Can we just go back up and get it?" That's when I realize that he’s still sitting in front of me dripping sweat. "By the way, what the hell were you doing? Looks like you just ran a marathon or got out of the boxing ring.”
“I like to lift weights of a morning,” he says with a shrug.
“It’s been a few days.” He pats his bulging bicep and gives me that grin that makes my knickers wet.
“And I need to keep myself in top shape to wrestle my feisty girl.” He shakes his head.
“A girl like you’s hard to keep up with, a bloke’s got to prepare. ”
I laugh out loud. “Oh, right, as if you don’t fucking love it.”
He grins. “You know I do.” He pushes himself to standing. “Okay, lassie. I’ll take a quick shower while you get ready, then up to the house we go.”
I nod. And even though I’m incredibly preoccupied and worried, it doesn’t take much for him to convince me to join him in said shower. And once in the shower, he feels the need to bend me over and take me there, and before you know it, we’re banging again.
Bloody hell.
“My God,” I say, panting after we’ve both climaxed. “I think you're turning me into a sex addict. Seriously, I didn't even know human beings could have this much sex.”
“Aye,” he says on a chuckle. “Are you serious? It's times like these, it's obvious the difference between men and women."
“Oh?” I laugh, as he steps out of the shower, his bare, perfect, muscled arse on display.
“Jesus, what a fine arse you have,” I mutter. He grins and hands me a towel. “So tell me about the difference between men and women, Mister Cowen.”
“Men know exactly what the human body is capable of when it comes to sex and stamina. And most teenage boys would fantasize about sex all day anyway, so we figure if you can think about it all day, you could probably have it all day."
“Well, that confirms it," I say.
“What?”
“Islan said men are hyperfocused on sex. She was right.”
He groans. “Bloody hell, don’t you ever use the word ‘sex’ in the same sentence as my sister ever fucking again.”
I laugh. “She’s a normal human being, Mac, you have to—”
He rolls his towel into a rope and snaps it across my arse.
“Ow!”
“Never. Again.”
I giggle and shake my head. “Right, then, you big ogre. Your sister’s joinin’ a fucking convent.”
He nods soberly. “Better.”