Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bryn
I hate what I’ve been commissioned to do. Hate it.
Because leaving Mac Cowen might be the hardest task I would ever have to do.
And hurting him… might kill me.
His eyes shine with loyalty and warmth as we come to a stop outside his family’s home.
“Aye,” he says in a husky voice. “This is where I grew up.” He squints, looking up at the little chimney on the side of the house. “You might not be able to see it in the dark, but that’s where I climbed to the roof on a dare from my youngest sister, Paisley.”
I giggle, covering my hand with my mouth. “You didn’t.”
“My God, I did, and when my older brother Tavish found us, he damn near shook my ears straight off my head.”
I laugh out loud at the image, a wee Mac with those bright blue eyes, and an angry older brother.
“Did he? He’s your older brother?”
Mac sobers and turns the car off. “Was,” he corrects.
“Oh,” I say in a little voice. “He isn’t with you anymore?”
He turns to me, shaking his head. “Your father really hasn’t told you anything about the Cowen Clan, has he?”
I wouldn’t say he hasn’t told me anything…
“Not much at all, no,” I say truthfully. “I’m very sorry, I didn’t know.”
He turns to me and brushes his palm against the side of my face. “You’re a sweet girl, Bryn. But remember one thing, love. You don’t ever apologize for things you aren’t responsible for. You didn’t know.” He shrugs. “And I’m glad of it. Makes me feel like we’ve a clean slate.”
But he doesn’t tell me any more about Tavish.
“It’s late, Mac. Will anyone be up?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you to my private home first. You’ll come back here in the morning for breakfast and meet my sisters and family.”
I squirm, a little uncomfortable about the thought of meeting his family.
“Will they… want to meet me? I don’t know much about our families, but I… I do wonder if it’s… awkward?”
He smiles, bends, and kisses my cheek. “I’ll make sure it isn’t.”
He opens his door, then comes around to my side and opens mine for me.
“If this is your family home, then where’s yours?”
“We each have chalets, smaller, private homes where we live, near the main house. I spend quite a bit of time at the main house, but once we are of age, we’re given a choice to move to our own place or stay. Of course, every one of us has chosen our own place.”
“Yeah, I wish things would go like that with us.”
I wonder how things are going at home, if everyone’s okay. There’s a severe shortage of people I could reach out to. I hate my brother, and my father’s preoccupied with things. My mother doesn’t know how to use a mobile ever since the stroke, and her caretaker’s unapproachable and grumpy.
“So where are you, then? Where’s your place?”
“Closest to the main house.”
We walk down a steep incline, and it looks as if we’re walking down to nowhere. From here, we can barely see the mountains that surround us, and the trees that flank each side of the main house.
Then we turn a bend, and I breathe in quickly. I hadn’t seen the little chalets before, but that's no surprise because it's so dark out. Each little one looks like a magical hut, like fairies or elves designed them long before humans ever lived.
“Oh, wow, Mac. This is gorgeous.”
“Thanks very much,” he says humbly, then he stops short. “You know, on second thought, we do need to go to the main house, don’t we? You don’t have a thing with you.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Definitely unprepared for an impromptu sleepover.”
“Come, then. Islan will probably be up.”
I don't know why I'm more nervous about meeting his sister than I am his father and mother. Just knowing that he’s rival mafia should make me afraid of meeting his family. But sometimes meeting another woman is most intimidating of all.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says gently. “They don’t bite.”
How does he know I'm nervous? I didn't say anything. I don't even think my demeanor says that I'm afraid of anything.
“I’m not nervous,” I lie.
A corner of his lips quirks up. “Ah, doll. Did you forget what lying earns you, then?”
That gives me a little tingle. I don’t respond.
We walk up large stone steps that lead to the main house. There’s a light on in the front, casting a yellowish glow on the steps before us. Large, sturdy green plants line the stairs, and a wreath made of woven branches graces the door.
It smells faintly of woodsmoke and a cold Scottish spring when we reach the main door. He takes out a large set of keys and opens the door.
The house is quiet when we enter. In the distance, there's a gentle hum of a dishwasher. Somewhere, a clock strikes midnight, but there are no other sounds in the house but our own footsteps as we enter.
He whispers as he puts his mobile up to his ear, “Let me call Islan.”
He frowns a moment later, shaking his head. “Went to voice mail. I’ll try Paisley.”
Islan and Paisley. His two sisters, then.
No answer there either.
“Crap,” he mutters. “Both asleep. They’ve got wedding festivities or some such. They might even be with their friends tonight, planning everything.”
I nod. “It’s alright,” I whisper. “I’ll just sleep in your tee and brush my teeth with my finger. No need to get all fancy for one wee night, Mac.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll call Cairstina.”
No idea who that is either. Thankfully, he explains.
“My brother Leith’s wife. You’ll like her.”
He dials, and a moment later whispers into the phone. “So sorry for calling so late. Did I wake you?”
I’d have expected a man like him to be scarier, more intimidating, but he’s got a gentle side to him I can’t deny.
He whispers his request, then nods. “She’s here, at the house. Leith’s got the baby at their own house, but she was here visiting Islan. She’ll be down in a minute.”
I’d love to take in every detail of this place. Even cast in darkness, I can tell it’s cozy and majestic, nothing like the frigid, opulent home I grew up in.
I hear footsteps on the stairwell and look up to see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her eyes twinkle at me, a lovely blue, and her hair’s tucked up in a messy bun.
“Hello,” she whispers. She’s got a few things tucked in her arms. “I’m Cairstina.”
“Hello,” I whisper back. “Name’s Bryn.”
She smiles and nods, then for some reason leaves again without another word after handing Mac the items. It’s strange, like we’ve been visited by a fairy in the middle of the night or something.
“She doesn’t talk much,” Mac says. “When she first came here, she was mute.”
“Seriously?”
He nods soberly. “Aye. She still only says the bare minimum.”
It seems both sad and a little strange, but I can accept it. I have so many questions about the Cowen family. They intrigue me far more than my own.
With the bundle of clothing and a small bag of toiletries tucked under his arm, Mac leads me through the entryway toward a kitchen. “We’ll enter here,” he says in a whisper, “instead of going around the main way. It’ll be faster.”
This kitchen is brilliant, and I’d love to see it in full swing of a day.
There’s a large stone fireplace, an industrial-sized stove, and sundry other things I’d like to explore at another time.
It smells of freshly baked bread and cinnamon, and there’s an enormous cello-wrapped platter of golden scones on the table, likely for breakfast.
“I can’t believe I’m starving again. Seems all we’ve done is eat.”
He grins. “It’s definitely not all we’ve done.”
My cheeks flush, and I stifle a yawn. This has been the sexiest date of my life, no-holds-barred. It feels like one of the longest nights of my life, and yet I still don’t want it to end.
He opens the door that leads us to the back of the house, and from here, I get a clear glimpse of the little chalets, twinkling under a night sky. I sigh with contentment.
“This is mine,” he says with a note of pride. “Come this way.”
A stone pathway to the left leads us down to one of the small houses, but when we approach it seems much larger than I anticipated.
“It’s adorable,” I breathe. “Like a fairy cottage or something.”
He smiles. “Thanks. Adorable fairy cottage definitely wasn’t what I was going for, but I’ll take it.”
I smile bashfully and take his proffered hand.
It’s dark and cool when he opens the door. He flicks a light switch, and overhead lights blink on. I yawn widely, but don’t want to pause even for a second, because I want to take in every single detail of his home.
It’s a bit messier than his flat in the city, making me wonder how much time he spends in either and if he has paid staff to clean for him.
A few pairs of shoes are kicked off by the door, a haphazard pile of boots and leather, and there’s a small entryway with hooks for coats and hats. A carpet runner leads to the main room.
There’s a fireplace and built-in shelving around it with books on either side.
The mantle houses an assortment of candles and a few picture frames, though I can’t see the pictures from where I stand.
There’s a living room with comfortable-looking, rustic furniture, a farm-style kitchen, and to the right, an open door that I assume is his bedroom.
I yawn again, suddenly completely exhausted.
“Alright, love,” he says, holding my hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Never in my life has anyone cared for me like this. And I have to admit… it feels nice.
I nod. “This has been a really amazing night, Mac,” I say on another yawn. “But I’m shattered.”
I’m nervous about what the morning will bring, if I’m honest. I don’t know what will happen next.
Will his family know who I am? Will they have grievances against my father, or my brother? I feel I’m woefully unprepared to avoid the job my father commissioned me with. I don't know what they know about me, or what their prejudices may be against my family. Or really anything about them.
I’m tired, though. So tired. I’ve eaten delicious, rich food, climaxed so many times I’ve lost count, and I was up early this morning getting ready for the day.