Chapter 40 Lachlan
LACHLAN
Scotland
How had I fallen asleep? Och. Natasha. Lying with her wasn’t the usual struggle where I denied myself the cravings I’d grown accustomed to with her. Fearing Borya’s intentions, I had rested my cheek on her chest, and she held me until the dark, twisted thoughts transformed to sleep.
Too soon, we arrived at the castle, which overlooked Loch Ness, reconstructed with my first-year earnings and my clan’s usual dealings.
Now, I awoke again to stone walls and Natasha dressed in my white shirt as she glanced out the iron-framed window.
I blinked, allowing my eyes to adjust to the gray morning and follow the path of her curvy legs.
The hem of the shirt stopped just beneath ample hips.
I sat up, wearing the same jeans as when I carried her from The Red Door.
“You okay?” Natasha turned around and pulled the phone from her ear.
“Did you get through to them?”
“Just tried again for the gazillionth time.”
“Ugh.” Rubbing my eyes, I looked at her again. Nae. Still dreaming. Instead of creamy brown thighs tempting me, she had paired the undershirt with sweats.
She tugged the shirt’s hem. “Sorry. I didn’t have clothes, so I …”
“You’re cold?”
“A little.” Her attention returned to the window. “Those gray skies, though? Charming.”
“It’s July, beautiful. It’ll warm up.”
She arched a brow.
“Seventy degrees.” Give or take—aye—take at least five degrees. Her face said that seventy lacked appeal.
“In summer,” she whimpered, climbing into the bed.
“Aye.” I swooped my arms around her, bringing her beneath the blanket. “Welcome to Dùn MhicCoinnich.”
“That stands for?”
“Fort of the son of MhicCoinnich—MacKenzie. Or you can call this place Dùnloch MacKenzie. Dùn—fort. Loch—”
“Fort Lake MacKenzie. Do our children need to learn …”
My palm cupped her soft cheek, cradling her face. “Speak your peace, woman.”
But she didn’t.
“I want children. Lots of them. Or two. Depends on you, Tash.”
Natasha huffed, but the smile on her face? Not to standard.
Was she considering the assault?
Her pearly teeth cut into her plush, pink lip. “While you slept on the plane, I watched Jordyn with Cam and Willow’s baby. At departure, Camdyn tried to place the little girl in a car seat …”
“She struggled to let go.” Ah. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Not for my brother and Jordyn’s situation.
But for me and Natasha. Of course I cared.
He hadn’t said much. Between awakening long enough to get myself off the plane, I’d noticed him place a comforting hand on the small of Jordyn’s back as she returned the cooing baby bundle to Willow’s arms.
I ran my hand over my woman’s thigh, wishing my palm brushed over her warm silk skin instead of cotton. Felt good. Not good enough. “You’re too beautiful.”
“Meh.” Her mouth corked into a grin. “I dunno, Lach.”
“I need to buy me a camera so I can take more pictures of you than the crap photos you’ve ever taken.”
“Crap?” She bombarded me with fake angry hits.
“Aye. Because none depict”—I blocked a slug meant for my chest—“you.”
The fight in her stalled. “Aww, Lach.”
“Lassie, if I possessed half the camera skills as you, I’d have succeeded. One pic would rival Leonardo da Vinci.”
Her voice carried a breathless lilt. “You know the Mona Lisa isn’t originally a photograph, right?”
“Don’t care about all that, but any photo, no matter the technique, just scratches the surface of your beauty.”
She climbed out of bed, fanning herself. Between exhales, she murmured, “I think I need my own room.”
And I think I need to “lock this girl down” as Montana would say, with a ring ASAP. Only, he’d say it with a disdainful head shake.
“No room, Tash.”
“Your family is big, granted, but not that big.” She looked a little skeptical while staring at the fireplace, large enough for her to walk inside. Castles. The myriad fireplaces? A nightmare to restore.
“Lemme explain.” I climbed from the bed. “Willow and Cam take an entire east wing with their brood. Little Brody and his clan take the west. He’s taught his two girls and Justice to sleep through Armageddon. That ruckus of snoring.”
Arms folded, she chuckled. “Mm-hmm. So, the west wing is an option.”
I stepped toward Natasha, drawing her into my orbit.
“I propose … we get married today. Pick whichever side of the bed tonight.” What was I thinking?
With my pants? Yeah. But … “I love you, woman. More than you’ll ever know.
When we broke up, I was gutted. When I carried ye …
”—my voice cracked—“… outta your da’s nightclub, I knew I’d not let you go.
Can’t let you go, Natasha. You belong to me. ”