Chapter 34
ELENA PIERSON
The wheels of the huge aircraft hit the tarmac at Logan International Airport with a definitive and heavily jarring jolt.
Beside me, Lachlan’s hand instantly tenses inside mine as he glances out the window at the huge concrete labyrinth of Boston’s runways, his jaw setting into a rigid and defensive line that I’ve come to recognize whenever the human world gets a little too loud for him.
“We’re finally here. Lachlan, the Loch Ness monster, has landed,” I whisper, squeezing his large knuckles with my fingers.
He turns to look at me with a tiny and nervous smile breaking through his stern expression. “Aye, we’ve made it to America.”
Navigating the high-end terminal in Boston is a completely different experience than our nightmare scramble at the last airport, mostly because the exorbitant flights Lachlan booked us for come with the very best of services, and so far, I won’t be complaining.
A private escort meets us right at the gate, bypassing the chaotic sea of travelers and rushing us through the main corridors. As we walk down the concourse I can’t help but notice the way people look at my mate.
Lachlan seems to tower over the crowd. With his bright red hair and plaid shirt, he looks like a lumberjack coming to visit the real world, drawing stares usually that start in the broad area of his chest.
He draws curious glances from business travelers and tourists alike as he moves with slow, deliberate caution, keeping his arms tucked tightly to his sides as if terrified he might accidentally knock over a luggage cart or step on someone.
When we reach the customs border, my heart does a small and anxious flutter as I get a look at the custom agents who look like they’d rather be anywhere but here.
And while I know Maren’s paperwork is supposed to be flawless, watching a stern faced custom agent look up at my very tall boyfriend who’s actually a Highland monster passing through security, is enough to make anyone sweat.
The agent takes Lachlan’s shiny new passport in his hand and looks down from the photo up to the large man standing in front of him. “What’s the purpose of your visit to the United States, Mr. Macbeth?” the officer asks, his voice flat.
Lachlan clears his throat, and looks around a bit sheepish before blurting, “Visiting friends and family, umm… sir? My mate’s…. er, my girlfriend’s hometown?”
The agent looks down at me and then back up at Lachlan and taps a few keys on his computer. I fight to keep calm and from panicking as the silence stretches out for several intense and agonizing seconds before the man slams the official entry stamp onto the page with a sharp clack.
“Enjoy your stay in Massachusetts, Mr. Macbeth,” the agent says as he hands the recently forged passport back to Lachlan.
“Welcome home, Ms. Pierson,” he says after stamping mine.
A heavy sigh of relief rushes from my lungs as we head toward the baggage claim. “See? Look at us, oh my gosh. Look at you legally in the country,” I say excitedly.
He slides the passport into his jacket, a huge smile spreading across his kissable lips as he glances around the brightly lit terminal and nods.
“Aye, it feels good to be off the plane, and thankfully the silly paperwork went well, though I knew Maren’s handiwork would go off without a hitch.
But it’s bloody crazy the number of blinking signs and things up here, Elena,” he says gesturing at all the terminal signage.
“Just wait until we hit the highway,” I tease him and pull him along by his hand. “But first we need to collect our bags and grab the rental car. Then it’s a short drive home to face the real test.”
He arches a dark red brow, a playful glint returning to his gaze. “You mean your four brothers?”
“Yep, my four brothers. Let’s see if you can get through the visit without using your charm magic,” I tease, laughing as we head out into the cold, salty New England air to start a whole new travel experience for my favorite monster.
But something tells me Lachlan and the boys will all be peas in a pod.
Lachlan Macbeth
“You’re not going to be cramped at all, promise. Travel in America is much different,” Elena says, smiling her sweet smile up at me as we make our way through the airport terminal.
After checking in at a desk, we walk out into the dark and echoing concrete vault of the parking garage and find a sleek and clean looking Suburban waiting for us.
It’s a big beast of a machine that sits like a black boat on top of the asphalt, and for the first time riding in a human vehicle, I don’t feel too big or look like I’m trying to squeeze my large frame into a narrow space.
Elena slides into the driver’s seat with ease while I settle in comfortably into the wide and plush leather passenger captain’s chair, gripping the big arm rests as I do.
I stretch my long legs out fully down into the vehicle’s expansive floorboards and marvel at the fact that my knees aren’t jammed against the dashboard at all, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh that seems to come from the center of my chest, fully relaxing as I realize that it’s just the two of us alone again.
“Now this,” I say, a genuine grin spreading across my face as I adjust the high headrest to accommodate my broad shoulders, “is a proper vehicle. I don’t feel as though my knees are wrapped around my chin, Elena, there’s so much room in here!”
“Yeah. It’s a lot roomier than the little coupe. You’ll see, everything is bigger in America,” Elena says, amusement in her tone as her fingers grip the stitched leather of the steering wheel as she pulls up the navigation map on her phone.
The long drive out of Boston is a bit of an adventure itself, and I thoroughly enjoy every mile of the ride as Elena expertly navigates us free of the cluttered and horn blaring city traffic.
Once we start to reach the outskirts of the city, the outside starts to look like the small coastal town I’ve been expecting.
The scenery begins to shift dramatically as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting pretty colors across the horizon, and it casts a warm amber glow over the shoreline.
To our right, miles of deep blue Atlantic water crash violently against the dark rocky cliffs and send big white sprays of seafoam high into the air.
The view looks remarkably familiar, almost like a tamer and gentler version of my beloved Scottish Highlands, minus the ancient looming mountains.
To our left, the road is bordered by thick and vibrant groves of pine trees and coastal oaks, their deep green needles catching the late afternoon light as the car maneuvers across the asphalt.
A weathered and salt-bleached wooden fence runs along the stone walls separating the motorway from a wide rolling marsh where tall seagrass waves lazily sway in the breeze.
Elena rolls the windows down just a crack and lets the sharp, briny scent blending with the faint and woodsy aroma from the pines in the air fill the car, mixing pleasantly with the leather of the interior.
All too soon, the coastal motorway gives way to quieter, tree-lined suburban streets and the wild marshes disappear, replaced by almost identical houses with neat, manicured lawns and wrap-around porches.
I notice Elena’s posture shift, her grip tightening on the steering wheel and breath catching slightly as we drive past what looks to be an old local diner.
“It’s just up here, the next left,” she says, her voice tightening just a bit with an anxious and excited energy that sets my own heart thumping.
And I can feel her nervousness begin to rise through the bond.
I squeeze her knee, trying to lend her some reassurance as the big car pulls onto a quiet, winding lane, shaded by towering maples a few hundred yards ahead where a large colonial home comes into view with bright navy blue siding and freshly painted white trim.
It sits nestled against a dense and protective tree line like an old matron.
In the distance, I can just make out four figures standing squarely at the edge of the wide and paved driveway, standing like a literal defensive wall blocking our entrance. These must be her four older brothers.
They stand shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chest, their unified expressions unreadable through the glare on the glass.
Elena eases the vehicle to a halt and the gravel crunches loudly beneath the heavy tires of the big car as my gaze locks onto the unusual welcoming committee.
She turns off the engine, and a sudden and deafening silence stretches through the vehicle. I begin to feel a heavy anticipation before I turn my head and meet her gaze.
With a calm and steady smile, I let her see that I’m entirely unbothered by the daunting line of men outside. “Well,” I murmur softly, “shall I go introduce myself?”
“Just remember,” Elena says quickly, her hand flying to the door handle but pausing as her gaze flies wide as she looks at me.
“Andrew’s the eldest, so he thinks he’s the boss and he’ll try to give you a death grip handshake.
Mark is the quiet one, but he judges everything.
Collin literally has no filter and he’s the one I’m closest to and then there’s Luke.
Well, Luke’s a cop, so he’s going to look at you like you’re on the most wanted list, but just be yourself. It’ll be great.”
I give her a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry Elena, I have faced angrier clans than this.”
I push my door open and step out onto the driveway, and the moment my foot touches down, the atmosphere among the brothers shifts instantly as their synchronized tough guy poses evaporate. They’re all a few inches shorter than I am, and I practically loom over them like a giant.
The tall one trying to look the most imposing can only be Andrew, and his arms drop to his side as he looks up at me, his jaw slackening just a fraction.
Next, Mark’s gaze tracks up and up until he’s looking into my face.
Collin blinks rapidly, his arm tensing as he stares, but Andrew is the first to recover.
He takes two steps forward, planting his boots firmly on the pavement as he looks at me and tries to maintain an intimidating scowl.
“So,” Andrew barks, his voice tight as he forces an aggressive step into my personal space. “You’re the guy who’s been keeping our little sister hidden away in Scotland.”
Before I can answer, Elena hops out of the driver’s seat and slams her door. “Andrew, stop it. You look like a disgruntled chihuahua.”
Collin bursts into a loud, booming laugh, and the tension instantly evaporates, making everything easy between us. “She’s right man, give it up. He looks like a lumberjack that could use your head to buff the hood of that car.”
Andrew’s tough guy scowl cracks, a broad grin breaking across his expression as he steps forward and extends an outstretched hand. “Yeah, all right. Fair enough, I’m Andrew and welcome to Massachusetts, man. I was going to try the alpha male handshake, but I actually value my hands.”
I chuckle as I gently engulf his hand in mine and give it a good shake. “Lachlan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Andrew.”
Luke the cop steps up next, shaking his head with a grin as he taps a finger against my bicep which is rather large in comparison to their average male builds.
“Man, if you ever need a job, our department is hiring a tactical entry specialist, and we wouldn’t even need a battering ram.
If we have you, we could just throw you through the wall. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, pretty amused by the immediate shift in their demeanors from overly protective and defensive to openly warm and affectionate.
They’re just like her.
Mark, the quiet one, steps forward with a knowing smile and gives me a firm nod before a shout goes up.
“Hey, Lachlan,” Collin chimes in, slapping my shoulder, and squeezing it lightly. “Tell me you brought some of that high-end Scottish whiskey from home. Because if you can drink us under the table, you’re officially my new favorite brother-in-law.”
“Collin,” Elena gasps, blushing furiously, though she looks profoundly relieved as she walks over and loops her arm through mine.
The simple touch grounds me, and I can feel a happy wavelength bounce through the bond between us.
“I do happen to have quite a substantial collection of single malts currently being… processed by a carrier,” I tell him with a conspiratorial wink, thinking of Maren’s magical smuggling operation. “I’ll see if I can get my mitts on some of it and promise we can all share a glass or three.”
“He’s in,” Connor shouts, turning back toward the house. “Mom, Elena brought a big Scottish Highlander home, and he’s got booze!”
“You should have told me your brothers could be easily bought with a bit of whiskey, Elena, I’ve a whole cask of it under the ship back home,” I whisper to where only she can hear.
The four brothers start jostling each other as they head up the porch steps, loudly debating on who gets to sit next to me at dinner so they can ask me about Scottish castles.
I glance down at Elena, whose smile is so wide that her cheeks must ache, and all the heavy, lingering worries vanish entirely into the cool, welcoming air.
I’m completely out of my element, but as Elena squeezes my arm, I know I’m exactly where I belong.