Chapter 7 #2
“Think you’ll fill those shoes, do you?”
His angry voice seizes me for a moment, but only a fraction of a second before I keep walking to the exit.
Ignore him, I tell myself. I left Fran on the other side of that door, which was fucking stupid. I can’t let her have the chance to escape.
“You’ll never fill those shoes. You and Leith together aren’t half the man Tavish was.”
“Stay in here until we’ve got this place cleared.”
Stay in there forever.
He’s still yelling, still trying to intimidate me, when I shut the door harder than necessary mid-sentence.
He’s clever and wily. He knows exactly how to play this, exactly how to play me.
He knows how to get under my fucking skin.
His words play out in my mind as I go back to the entryway.
Fuck it.
Fran isn’t here. No one is.
I head to the kitchen and spy Mum and Paisley. The door and windows are wide open, and smoke’s quickly leaving the kitchen. Islan’s got a fire extinguisher in hand, and she’s aiming it at the fire.
“Jesus, be careful,” I tell her, just as she pulls the trigger and a jet of flame retardant streams onto the flames.
“I’ve got this,” she says.
“Where’s Fran?”
Islan shrugs. “Don’t know. Wasn’t she with you?”
“Aye.”
Leith comes into the kitchen, followed by Mac and Clyde. “What the hell’s going on here?”
Cairstina sidles up to him, giving him her bright smile. “Simple kitchen mishap.”
He looks sharply at me. “Why is Fran heading out to the garage?”
I shrug, stepping to the door. None of them know a bloody thing. I have to stay calm. “Dinnae. Had a few things in the car. I’ll be back.”
I walk quickly to the door. I don’t want to alarm anyone. I don’t need anyone to see where I’m going, or what I’m doing. But as soon as the door shuts, I take off running.
The fucking brat. She thinks she can get away that easily?
I get to the garage just as the car’s backing out at a goddamn breakneck speed, but she’s only got use of one arm, and she hasn’t seen me yet.
I yank on the passenger door, and find it unlocked.
It flies open and she gasps, stepping on the gas, but not before I take the chance during her momentary panic to slide in beside her.
The door crashes against my leg and I stifle a scream, shoving it open as I reach for her.
I yank the steering wheel and pull the car to the side. I reach my leg right over her and stomp on the brake. We come to a skidding halt, dust and gravel rising around us.
“Think you’d get away that easily, did you?”
We stare at each other, panting. Her cheeks are aflame, her hair all around her face in wild waves. The top button to her top’s come undone in the ruckus, and the very top of her cleavage spills out. She looks like someone roughed her up. I want to be that person.
I make myself focus on the need to drag her out of here, to secure her, to question and punish her.
She put my entire Clan at risk.
She tried to escape.
She lied to me.
“You’ll park this fucking car,” I tell her in a low, controlled voice. “And then you’ll come with me to my place, where you and I will have a good, long talk.”
She blinks hard. Twice. Then swallows, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by the way her throat moves. She says nothing.
I lean closer to her. “And if you don’t,” I whisper, “I promise you, love, I’ll call my brothers. I’ll tell them what I know. And the three of us will handle you together.”
It’s no bluff. I’ll call them here and tell them what happened, then fucking punish her right in front of them. I can’t believe the nerve of her.
Holding her head high and giving me an aloof look, she rolls her eyes, but does what I tell her. We park the car awkwardly, with me holding her in a grip that won’t let her escape. I take the keys out of the ignition and pocket them.
She stays put while I come around to get her. There’s no way she’ll get away from here now.
She’s just about signed her fucking confession to me by trying to escape.
“How’d you get the keys?”
“Someone left them on the counter in the kitchen,” she says, turning away from me.
Resourceful.
“Do you know how fucking lucky you are?”
“Lucky?” she snaps. “I’d have escaped if I didn’t have this broken arm.”
“If any of the other men of the Clan found you escaping… if my father knew what you’ve done…”
His words come back to me.
You’ll never fill those shoes. You and Leith together aren’t half the man Tavish was.
Maybe I don’t want to be the man Tavish was. Maybe I don’t want to fucking please my father.
I look up at the house. No more smoke. Leith will probably try to ban the girls from baking or something over-the-top like that, but Paisley will probably be back in the kitchen by the morning.
“Everyone alright up there?” she asks.
“Like you really care?”
She scowls at me. “You can’t blame me for trying to get away, Tate. Not after the things you said to me on the way here. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my friends. Looked like just a normal kitchen fire.”
“How can you say you care about your friends when you put their safety on the line like that?”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
Does she really have no idea what I’m talking about?
I shake my head, out of patience for explanations.
We head down the hill that leads to my private home, the one furthest from the main house. It’s a bit of a hike to get there, and I like it that way. I want people to have to walk to see me. It gives me the privacy that I crave.
The ground is icy and wet, so I hold her arm tightly.
“If a man and a woman could get to know one another by holding arms, we’d be practically engaged by now,” she quips.
I grunt. This is not a time for joking. Jesus.
“In fact, in some middle Eastern countries, I believe that’s actually customary, and if you touch my bare elbow, it’s akin to a proposal.”
I don’t reply.
I can’t believe she has the fucking nerve to take this so lightly.
“Is this your place, Tate?”
“Don’t you know? I’d have imagined you have a map drawn out or something.”
She bites her lip and doesn’t reply.
“You do! You have a map, don’t you?”
“Well…”
I can’t believe she’s spied on us like this.
I can’t believe we didn’t know. I feel like a total idiot for not realizing the truth sooner.
I didn’t pay much attention to the books, though, if I’m honest. I’d heard Leith and Cairstina mention them, and my sisters, of course, but I never knew that anything would come of it. Never.
And now…
“Oh, Tate,” she says, all misty-eyed, her voice soft in wonder. “It’s bloody gorgeous.”
I forget for a minute why we’re here. I forget for a minute that she put my Clan in danger and then tried to escape. I forget that I’ve been told to find the writer and to make them pay.
For one brief moment in time, it’s just the two of us. Coming home.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “Built it myself.”
For one moment, I see it all from the eyes of a stranger.
A small, rustic cabin in the heart of the woods, my home is surrounded by tall pines frosted with snow and ice.
Evergreens never lose their color, but when the snow melts, they frame my house in beauty.
Behind us lie the snowcapped mountains, visible from the back windows, especially the large window in the kitchen.
There’s a porch swing by the entrance, and a pile of neatly stacked wood I chopped myself by the door.
She hasn’t even seen the inside yet.
This chalet was designed after one found in the Swiss Alps, seasoned dark wood with overhanging eaves. Icicles hang like nature-spun crystals, glittering and melting from the beams of sunlight. Soon, the sun will settle into the mountains, bringing the cool night air and the bluish haze of dusk.
I open the door. For a simple home, I’ve made mine intensely high security, for obvious reasons.
It used to be that no one knew where we lived.
It used to be that we were the safest place in Scotland, highly reclusive, hidden from everyone.
But in recent years, all locations have become known to at least a few people.
We've had trespassers, and I like my privacy.
So while Leith has maximum security at the house, he leaves the small chalets to ourselves. I have bodyguards, but I take extra precautionary measures with high security locks on the doors and windows.
It keeps me feeling safe. But the plus side is, she won’t be able to get away.
The interior’s my retreat, well-furnished with simple but sturdy furniture, designed for tranquility. My job drains me, sometimes taking all of my energy. I recharge when I come home.
There isn’t a television on the premises. I do like to watch shows sometimes, but I use my iPad. Islan helped me decorate and told me we’d keep the walls bare and clean, “intentionally decorated with a cool, natural palette with pastels and shades of brown.” I liked what she planned.
The door we enter brings us into the living room, featuring a double-sided wood burning stove that heats the living room and bedroom in an open-plan arrangement.
I love just enjoying a quiet dinner alone, a steaming mug of tea, the large windows overlooking the smoky, blue-tinged mountains outside and a padded window seat that welcomes rest and relaxation.
There’s a king-sized bed that faces a brick-lined fireplace, an ensuite with a clawfoot bath and shower, and what Islan called “a sit-out-erie,” a little patio built specifically for me to go from my bedroom to the outdoors with a book. Outdoors, there’s a fire pit and barbecue.