Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rafe
The way Iona keeps gazing at me as if I'm the greatest genius in the history of the world makes me somewhat uncomfortable. But every time she smiles at me lovingly, I forget all about that for at least twenty-two seconds. All right, I don't know if it's precisely twenty-two seconds. I'm guessing, because my attention remains glued to her beautiful face.
"What have scientists learned about?" Toby asks. "You trailed off mid-sentence."
"No, I did not." Actually, I'm quite certain I did trail off. Iona had smiled at me again, and all the thoughts in my brain crumbled away. Now, I clear my throat and try to reassemble my wits. "Scientists have learned a great deal about Transient Luminous Events, yet they remain an enigma. It seems likely that we might never fully understand them. Their transient nature and the high altitude at which they occur make studying them quite difficult."
My mates ask a few more questions, then it's time to leave the TLE lab.
Iona walks beside me as we peek into various other labs, but I don't take the group into those rooms. It's nearly lunchtime, and I'm technically still on holiday---extended personal leave, as I prefer to call it. That does sound suspiciously like I invented that phrase to excuse my abominable behavior. I wish I could say that hunting down Iona hadn't been an insane impulse. But I won't lie, not even to myself, not anymore.
Those days are over.
Our tour ends at my favorite room. I halt in front of the closed door and face the group. "This is our last stop. Welcome to the Post-Strike Analysis lab. Shall we pop in and see what the team is doing today?"
Everyone mutters their agreement.
I push the door open and hold it there until all my mates have walked inside the room. Then I stride past them, waving for the group to gather behind me. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to introduce you to the direct effects team. They study post-strike analysis via the contraption you see behind me. It can deliver up to two hundred thousand amps of electricity."
The group needs a moment to study the machine behind me. Then it's time to make lightning.
I glance at the blonde woman seated at a bank of computers. "Melissa, would you give our guests a demonstration?"
"Yes, sir."
She taps buttons on her keyboard---and miniature bolt of lightning flashes.
My mates display an appropriate amount of awe.
Iona approaches me, laying a hand on my arm. "That was so hot, Rafe, literally."
A chuckle rumbles out of me. "Hot? That was two hundred thousand amps of electricity, enough to kill someone."
"But you survived a lightning strike. That must have shot even more energy into your body than this machine does."
"In fact, this machine produces more amperage than lightning does. An average bolt releases about thirty thousand amps compared to the two hundred thousand in that simulator. That's approximately five times higher than a natural lightning strike."
She slides her hand down to my wrist, then threads her fingers between mine. "I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say you are a remarkable man with enough strength and intelligence to accomplish anything. Even lightning couldn't stop you, when most others would stay away from the thing that nearly killed them."
"I'm no braver than anyone else."
" Na dèan beul dhe do thòn ." She rises onto her toes to give me a stern look. "That means 'bullshit,' Rafe. No more downplaying your strength. You are amazing."
I suddenly realize the others are watching us with varying expressions of amusement. Why do they find anything we've said to be humorous? The thought of a direct hit from a lightning bolt should frighten them, not make them smile.
And I can't help it. I get grumpy again.
Waving my free arm, the one Iona hasn't commandeered, I growl, "We're done here. Come with me to the cafeteria."
I stomp out of the room with Iona trailing slightly behind me. With some effort, I slow my pace to let her stay beside me. Once we walk into the cafeteria, the tension inside me eases enough that I'm no longer growling at anyone. Even while I was behaving that way, Iona kept smiling at me sweetly.
She is barmy.
But so am I. Maybe we do belong together.
The cafeteria has good food. I made sure of that when we built this laboratory complex. We can't all sit at one table, so I suggest the others should choose to sit wherever they like. Iona and I take chairs beside each other at one of the rectangular tables. Maeve, Rowan, and Toby join us with all three on the opposite side. Courtney, Phillip, and Eric choose the adjacent table which unfortunately means they're close enough to listen to and participate in our conversations.
Maybe I don't mind that as much as I claim I do. A bloke has to keep up his reputation, mine being the persona of a raging arsehole. I whispered that to Iona, and she laughed.
"Oh, Rafe, you aren't the villain I thought you were at first. Now I know how kind and sweet and brave you are."
Maeve and Rowan twitter like wee birds.
Bloody hell . I've just employed a Scottish word.
I scowl at the girls, rather halfheartedly. "What are you two laughing about?"
"We weren't laughing at you, Rafe," Maeve says. "We just cannae believe our mam is gushing over a man. It's refreshing. She had spent twenty years or so avoiding men except for the occasional fling."
"Fling?" Iona nearly shouts, her voice higher pitched than usual. "I dated occasionally. There were no flings."
I rest my hand atop hers. "Relax, pet. Maeve is teasing you."
She sighs. "Aye, I know that. I reckon I'm a wee bit sensitive about my awful track record with men." She kisses my cheek. "Until I met you. That changed everything."
Maeve and Rowan simultaneously coo, "Awwww."
I might as well chime in and potentially shock these two lovely lasses. "Meeting your mum has changed my life too. She's both sweet and tough with just enough feminine charm to make her irresistible." I lift Iona's hand to kiss the back of it. "And I believe she just might be the soul mate I've always longed for but never found."
All three women seem stunned.
Yes, I figured that declaration would do the trick. No more twittering at me. But I meant every word of what I said about Iona and my feelings for her.
From the adjacent table, three male voices begin to sing the tune of the wedding march in a ridiculously soppy tone. Toby, Eric, and Phillip are the culprits.
And I growl at them on principle. "Shut your bloody mouths, you twats."
Courtney laughs. "You go, Rafe. Punch their lights out, they deserve it."
A realization slams into me. I actually enjoy bantering with these young people. They are clever, cheerful, and capable.
Once lunch is over, we drive back to my home in Norwich so I can resume my extended leave. It pays to be the boss. No one would dare criticize me for taking such a long holiday. Of course, I permit everyone on my team to go on holiday occasionally. The rules of taking leave from work are mandated by law for my employees. I have no such rules. I'm the CEO.
It's late afternoon, so Iona and I go out to the small swimming pool in my backyard for a bit of relaxation. The pool is heated. That's a good thing since the weather has been a bit cooler today. Iona doesn't have a bathing suit. I have trunks, of course, since this is my home. But none of the young women brought any swimwear of any sort.
When I suggest she could wear her bra and knickers instead, her face becomes the picture of horror. Someone might think I suggested a serial killer should come have a dip with us.
"My underwear will be see-through when it's wet," she whispers to me. "What if the laddies see me?"
"I hadn't thought of that. Are you sure your undergarments will become see-through?"
She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Rafe, a woman knows these things before she leaps into a swimming pool. It's instinct."
"Really? Women all possess this type of supernatural understanding?"
"Nothing supernatural about it. I'm sorry, Rafe, we can't swim today."
"Couldn't we visit a clothing store this afternoon?"
She flattens her lips.
I assume that means she disapproves of my idea. "No swimming, then. Correct?"
"Aye. I've had enough car travel for one day, and I'm jeeked from today's excitement." She yawns. "A wee nap sounds heavenly."
"Oh, I see. Well, if you're that tired, I suppose I'll...find something else to occupy my time while you're sleeping."
"No, Rafe." She grasps my shirt collar to pull me close, then hoists herself up onto her tiptoes. "The nap is for both of us."
The sensual tone of her voice convinced me. "A nap it is, then. For both of us."
I pick her up and carry her toward the hallway amid twittering from the girls and chuckling from the boys. As I turn down the hall, I shout, "Wait until you meet the love of your life. None of you boys will be laughing then."
I pause and turn halfway toward the young hooligans.
No one is laughing anymore. They gawp at me as if I've grown five extra heads. Only Iona is immune to that reaction, though she does gaze up at me lovingly.
"What's wrong with you lot?" I ask in what sounds like a grumpy tone even to my ears.
Toby is equally shell-shocked, but he finds his voice before the others. "Dad, you just announced that Iona is the love of your life."
"Yes. What of it?"
"But you---it's just---Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that. Don't think you ever called Mum the love of your life."
Oh, bollocks . I shouldn't have blurted that out. "I'm sorry, Toby. I didn't mean it as an insult to your mother."
"No, that's not what I meant." He grins. "I'm so bloody happy for you, Dad."
"You are?" I suppose I could have sounded more baffled if I tried very hard. "Well, ah, thank you."
Maeve chimes in too. "Never seen Mam this happy either. Rowan and I know you'll treat her well and make her so happy for the rest of her life."
Iona is grinning, though she hides it somewhat by burying her face against my chest. She does peek out now and then.
"All right, children. Iona and I are going to have that lie-down now."
The children seem to think that's a good excuse for harassing us. Maeve and Rowan inform us that "no one will interrupt" our "wee lie-down." Their cheeky tone makes it clear they're teasing us again. Toby winks and grins in the most idiotic manner, like a cartoon character or a comedian. Eric has enough sense not to behave that way, particularly considering the way he tried to win Iona's heart by harassing her. Politely, according to Iona. I no longer feel odd about being friendly with Eric, though I do wonder what changed his mind about Iona.
Maybe later I'll ask him.
I turn away from the irritating young adults and march straight into my bedroom. Our bedroom, for the time being at least. Later, I'll worry about where we might live or how often her brothers might hunt me down to glower at me and issue empty threats. I'll become accustomed to that, I'm sure.
My suggestion of a lie-down appeals to me even more once I've carried Iona into the bedroom and set her down on the mattress. A wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I wipe a hand over my eyes and yawn.
Iona wriggles around to make room for me beside her. "Lie down, Rafe. You look exhausted."
"That's because I am exhausted. Didn't realize how much energy I'd expended on giving everyone a tour of my laboratory."
"You enjoyed doing that, though. Or were you pretending? No, I don't believe that."
I climb onto the bed, slinging an arm around Iona to pull her close to my side. "Yes, I genuinely enjoyed showing the young people my laboratory."
"You enthralled them."
A half-suppressed laugh splutters out of me. "Enthralled? You're overdoing it just a bit, love."
"Just accept the truth, gràidh . You are magnetic."
If she believes that, who am I to argue? Iona is the most intelligent person I've ever met. "All right, you've convinced me. I am magnetic, and so are you. Now, may we please have that nap?"
"Mm-hm." She snuggles even closer, resting her head on my chest, and yawns. "Getting sleepy already."
Soon, we both drift off into the world of dreams. I dream about her, naturally, naked in the pool. In my fantasy, she is the sexiest, naughtiest mermaid. Perhaps sometime we could enact that dream in real life. But not until the snarky young people have gone home. We'll need total privacy.
A couple of hours later, we emerge from our slumber and return to the living room. The children have, once again, crafted a meal for all of us. Until this week, Toby never cooked for me unless it was my birthday or Father's Day. Even then, he would whip up something simple and easy like omelets or hamburgers.
It's nice to know the younger generation knows how to treat us elderly gents and ladies.
The next morning, we receive a nasty surprise.