Chapter 7 Nightingale #2
“Who is it?” I asked when he stood to look.
“The MacLeods,” he responded, inviting them inside.
“The storm is breaking,” Mr. MacLeod announced as he set another food-laden basket on the counter. “Should clear by tomorrow, maybe the day after. Roads will be passable soon enough.”
Tomorrow. The word lodged in my throat. I’d been so lost in the bubble of last night and this morning that I’d forgotten about the world outside.
“That’s…good news,” Tag said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise.
After they left a few minutes later, I stood at the window as rain fell. It was definitely lighter outside, the sky less oppressively dark. As Mr. MacLeod had said, we’d be able to leave tomorrow or the next day. And then what?
“Hey.” Tag’s arms came around me from behind. “You’re frowning. Why?”
“I’m wondering what happens when we leave here.”
“We don’t have to think about that yet.” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “We still have time.”
“And then?”
He was quiet long enough for me to wonder if he’d answer. “Then we return to work. Resume finding out who was following you and why.”
“Right,” I said. “Of course.”
He turned me to face him. “Leila—”
“It’s fine.” I managed a smile. “I understand. You made it clear that this would only last as long as we were here.”
“That’s not what I—” He stopped, frustrated. “It’s complicated.”
“It really isn’t.” I pulled away from him. “We should check the rest of the castle. Make sure the storm hasn’t done any damage.”
It appeared as though there was something more he wanted to say, but after waiting a few minutes, I went upstairs to put on warmer clothes.
We spent the afternoon wandering through the tunnels again, though things between us seemed so different.
Tag was affectionate and tender, but I’d withdrawn, building the walls I’d need once we left Dunravin.
He noticed—I could see it in the way he studied me, the way he’d reach for me then stop himself—but neither of us addressed it directly.
As evening fell, he suggested we dine together. “Mrs. MacLeod brought dinner,” he said. “And there’s wine. We could—”
“I’m not hungry. In fact, I need some air.” I stalked out the door, hoping he would follow as much as I hoped he wouldn’t.
I paced the castle grounds as the sun set, breathing in the rain-washed air. The landscape showed evidence of the storm’s violence—branches down, debris scattered—but Dunravin stood unmarked. It had weathered centuries of storms and would for several more, even in its somewhat dilapidated state.
When I returned, the kitchen had been transformed, with candles, the table set with the castle’s best china, and wine breathing in a crystal decanter I hadn’t known existed.
“What’s all this?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t sounded so unappreciative.
“You deserve romance, Leila.” He pulled out my chair. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.”
The honesty of it stole my breath. “Tag—”
“Let’s not talk about it.” He poured wine, hands not quite steady. “Let’s enjoy tonight.”
So we did. We ate and drank and conversed about things that were safe—books, music, places we’d traveled.
He told me funny stories about Con, Ash, and Gus from their childhood.
I told him about the time I’d accidentally insulted a Syrian general’s mother while trying to compliment her cooking.
We laughed and let the wine warm us and didn’t talk about tomorrow.
Later, in bed, our lovemaking had an edge of desperation.
We came together again and again through the night, as if we could stop time through sheer will.
I memorized how he felt inside me, the weight of him above me, the way he said my name when he came.
He mapped every inch of my body with his hands and mouth, finding places that made me cry out, teaching me pleasures I hadn’t known existed.
“Stay with me,” he whispered at one point, though I was right there beneath him.
But I knew he didn’t mean forever.
When he finally slept, exhausted, I lay awake, listening to the rain. It was barely a drizzle now. Tomorrow, the sun would shine. The helicopter would come. We’d leave this place and go back to being who we were before—two people held apart by duty and fear.
I turned to study his face in the dim light. Asleep, he looked younger, the lines of tension smoothed away. I wanted to kiss him awake, to beg him to choose me, choose us, choose something more than these stolen days.
Instead, I closed my eyes, knowing I’d need this memory to keep me warm through all the cold, lonely nights ahead.
My mobile’s shrill ring shattered the morning peace. Tag stirred beside me but didn’t wake as I extracted myself from his embrace and padded to where the device was charging.
“Nightingale,” I answered quietly, moving into the bathroom and closing the door.
“Good to hear your voice.” Viper’s tone was clipped but relieved. “Typhon briefed me on the extraction to Dunravin. Are you holding up all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. The safe house was definitely compromised—”
“We know, and you cannot return to London at this time. Typhon and I agree you should lie low somewhere else until we can narrow down who was surveilling you.”
“Understood. When’s the extraction scheduled?”
“Tomorrow morning, weather permitting.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, Nightingale? Good instincts getting out when you did.”
I ended the call and stood in the bathroom, processing. When I emerged, Tag was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his own mobile beside him.
“Viper?” he asked.
I nodded. “You?”
“Typhon.” He stood, moving toward me. “We’re not returning to London.”
“I know. Viper said she and Typhon would coordinate a new location prior to extraction.”
“We have done.”
My stomach clenched. We? “So, where?”
“Glenshadow. I suggested it, Typhon agreed. It’s isolated, defensible, and off anyone’s radar.”
His home. I couldn’t stay in his house, surrounded by his things, playing the role of just another operative under his protection while my heart broke a little more each day.
“I have other options,” I countered.
“No. You don’t. Not until we know who was after you in London.”
I didn’t care for his tone. “Why are you acting like this decision is yours to make?”
His head cocked, and he glared at me the same way I was at him. “I suppose because I made the decision about Dunravin.”
“You did? Not Typhon?”
“We decided together in the same way we did Glenshadow.”
“No,” I said, turning to leave the room. He caught up with me before I reached the stairs.
“No? Leila, wait. You’re being—”
I spun around on him. “You don’t make decisions on my behalf. Not anymore.”
His hand touched my shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s really going on here? Is this reaction because we agreed that our affair would end when we left Dunravin?”
“How dare you?” I seethed, jerking away from him.
“I dare because I don’t understand your behavior.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid in anger. My behavior? “I knew this was temporary as well as you did. It was the only reason I agreed to it in the first place.”
His eyes bored into mine in a way that said he knew I was lying.
Which I was. But that was beside the point.
What I needed to figure out—on my own—was what my next step should be.
Should I agree to go to Glenshadow for the time being while I planned my own extraction?
That would make the most sense. It would give me the opportunity to reach out to my assets and craft a plan to disappear.
It wouldn’t be the first time, even recently.
It had taken Tag weeks to find me. This time, I intended for it to take months.
Long enough for my shattered heart to mend.
Long enough to move on from my obsession with Niall MacTaggert. To get over him.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.
“And what is that?”
The bastard smirked. “You’re running, and I won’t allow it.”