Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tate
I don't know how I keep it together. Just hearing her in the shower, knowing she’s naked and in such close proximity… bloody hell, it undid me.
My attraction to Fran grows with every passing minute, an uncontrollable need to touch her, to hold her, to be closer to her.
Abstaining will kill me. Fucking kill me.
I catch up with my Clan brothers.
I haven’t said anything about the writer I’m pursuing, but it won’t take at least one of them long to figure it out. My money’s on Leith. He pays attention to detail better than anyone else.
He cares more, too.
Mac would maybe take it in stride and want answers as to retribution and our plan going forward.
The girls would plead for their friend. I know they would.
But Dad… Dad would kill her on the spot or order a hit I couldn’t stop. Leith might try, but he also might not.
And I’m not taking any bloody chances.
Snow’s falling in thick swaths, but slowly, as we make our way up to the main house.
“How’s your head?”
“Better, I think. I’m just so relieved to be off those bloody pain meds.”
I snort out a laugh. “You were a bloody riot, though.”
She groans.
Nan’s reedy voice comes from behind us.
“Is that my grandson with my favorite friend o’ the family?”
“Aye, Nan,” I say, turning to face her. She’s making her way slowly up the sloping hill that leads to the main lodge, clearly just leaving her own home.
She’s wearing a hat, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck, mittens that look like she knitted them herself in 1999, a cloak that goes nearly to the ground, and furry boots.
“It’s cold out and icy. You shouldn’t be walking alone up here,” I scold.
“Tsk,” she says, waving the hand at me that isn’t gripping her cane. “They say some cold keeps a woman young, son. And Lord knows I need a wee bit of help in that area.” She winks at Fran.
“We all do, Nan,” Fran says warmly, reaching for Nan’s free hand as she draws closer. “It’s why we lace our tea with the good stuff, aye?”
“Och, aye, lassie,” Nan replies. “See, Tate, now there’s a smart lass for you.”
For you.
Is she using the phrase metaphorically? “Chan eil ann an aois ach àireamh.”
Age is only a number.
“Now, what are you two doing out here in this bitter cold? Coming up for a wee bit of breakfast, are you?”
“We ate at Tate’s,” Fran says, and I stifle a groan. She isn’t supposed to say anything. The way her eyes quickly fly to mine tells me she knows exactly what she fucked up.
She gives me an apologetic grimace.
“Aye, we ate breakfast already. Need to get up to the house for a few more things.”
“Pack of condoms?” she says in a stage whisper to Fran.
“Nan!”
Her eyes twinkle when she looks at me. Fran just giggles. “What?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
She rolls her eyes. The bloody sass.
“Sure, lad. Sure.”
We reach the back door, and it opens when we draw close, Mum standing inside the door. She blinks at us in surprise before she quickly schools her features. If there’s anyone in the entire house I can count on not to ask questions or pry, it's Mum.
“Come in, come in,” she says, ushering us in. “It’s nasty out there.”
“Eh, just a wee bit of snow, the trees just dusting things off as it were. Should be clear soon enough,” Nan says. “A little birdie told me the staff was making Dundee cake today, and you know I don’t miss that, Flora.” Nan has a taste for the dense, fruit-laced concoction.
“Don’t I know it. I asked them to make me two.”
“Ah, good lassie you are, Flora.” Nan gives Fran a wink and Fran gives me a look that plainly says, “See? I love your family.”
She loves some of them, alright.
We enter the house. The kitchen’s bursting with life and energy, the cooks bustling about with aprons and pots and pans, the huge wooden table, crafted by my father’s own hand when he was much younger, filled with my Clan brothers and sisters.
Fran smiles at Paisley and does a quick nod. Paisley lets out a breath.
What’s that all about?
Islan looks from me to Fran with mild surprise, nods to greet us, then goes right back to a lively discussion with Cairstina.
They may not know why I have Fran here with me, but they’re staying discreet about everything.
For now.
I sit right in the middle of the table so Fran can sit beside Paisley and I can sit beside Nan. I need her next to me, and I don’t want anyone asking questions if I don’t let her sit with her mates.
“Morning,” Leith says, his gaze probing. He’ll have questions to ask.
“Morning.”
He looks to Fran, then back to me. Silently, he pours cream in his tea and grabs a scone from the plate in the center of the table.
“You eat yet?” he asks.
“Aye.”
There’s a quick pause in the conversation from the girls, but Islan picks it up again and they resume discussion.
“We need to talk,” Leith says.
“Right now?”
He glances down the table at Fran and lowers his voice. “Can you leave her here alone?”
I look at her then back to him and shake my head. He frowns, nodding. “When?”
I look across the table. “Just a minute. Clyde, a word.”
Clyde leans over, and I whisper in his ear. “Keep an eye on Fran. She isn’t allowed to leave, understood?”
“Aye,” he says, but he doesn’t ask any questions.
They’ll all know by the end of the day who she is and why I’m keeping her under my protection and surveillance. My brothers are no fools.
“I’ll be right back.”
Leith rises. Mum’s eyes are on us, but only for a second. We walk out of the kitchen and into the vacant hallway.
“Got a call from Wales this morning,” Leith says.
I nod.
“Seems we’ve had a leak, brother.”
I curse under my breath. “What kind of a leak?”
“They know of our connections in Paris. They asked questions, Tate. Lots of questions.” He sighs. “They mentioned Dad’s failing health.”
I curse. “How did they find out?”
Leith shrugs. “Not sure. Clan doctor’s here, vowed to secrecy. But rumor has it I’m Clan Captain now… some may have put two and two together.”
Or, someone read the fucking Clan Chronicles and assumed fiction is truth.
“You any closer to finding out more about the author?” Leith shoots a pointed look at Fran.
“I told you I’d do it, and I need you to trust me.”
He knows. I don’t know how I thought I’d keep the truth from him, how I’d buy time. I could lie, but we never lie to each other.
Ever.
But asking one of my brothers to trust me is an iron-clad rule, one that we honor.
“Of course, Tate,” Leith says warmly. “Always. I trust you. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“Aye. And what do you want to do about Wales? What did they want?”
He grumbles. “Fucking everything.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. What does he mean, everything?
It’s rare Leith’s evasive. He’s holding something back from me, I know it.
“What do they want?” I ask again, more demanding this time. He works his jaw, his body taut as he turns away from me.
I snap. I grab him by the shoulders and throw him against the wall, pinning him there in place before I remember who he is, before I remember my place.
“Tell me!”
He blinks, and I realize what I’m doing. Even as my brother, assault on the Clan Captain merits swift and merciless punishment.
At the moment, I don’t care. I don’t bloody care.
He meets my eyes, but there’s no anger. Only… resignation.
“Tell me, Leith,” I whisper, my grip on him loosening. I’ve already taken this too far, but if any of our Clan brothers see me threatening him, they’d have to attack.
He shakes his head from side to side, and I can tell something’s made him afraid. I haven’t seen fear in his eyes in so long, I almost didn't recognize it at first.
He spits the words out, tainted with hatred. “They want four million quid, or one of the girls in marriage.”
Ice pulses in my veins, and my jaw drops. “What?”
His voice is low but holds absolute authority as he whispers, “You’ll let me go now, brother.”
I release him and take an involuntary step back.
I don’t know what outrages me more—their demands, or the assumption my sisters are only worth four million.
He nods gravely. “Apparently, dear old Dad left a debt with them, didn’t he?” He shakes his head from side to side. “Jesus.”
Of course he did. Anger rises in me, hot and fast, acid burning in my throat. Until Leith took his role, I tolerated my father. He was ruthless and cruel, and if not for the tempered love of our mother, we’d have been raised to be just like him.
But as I’ve come to know who he really is, what he’s really done… I’ve never known hatred like I do for my father.
“And he didn’t tell you about this.”
Leith snorts. He’s forgiven me, but I know I can’t lose my mind like that again.
“I’m not Dad, Tate.” Truer words were never spoken. “You know I would’ve told you everything if I knew it.”
We don’t lie to each other. We may rough each other up and give each other crap like no one else, but we all know we’d give our lives for the men of our Clan, and the only way for us to maintain the loyalty and trust necessary for such vows is with brutal honesty.
“Aye.”
“How long have they given you before you answer?”
“One week. End of the month.”
Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair, and my voice sounds as if it doesn’t even belong to me when I tell him, “I’ll handle this. Let me handle this.”
I have to do this, I know I do. Leith has to manage the Clan. Mac has a wife now, and a family of his own as well.
This is my duty. My responsibility. And I have the tools to do what I have to.
Fran knows things. She has connections and spies. I will find a way out of this. I will find a way to save my sisters, save my family.
We join the others, but my mind’s preoccupied with what he told me. Still, I breathe more easily when I take my seat beside Fran.
She’s still here. No one’s hurt her.
Hell, not only is she still here, she’s regaling my family with a tale about a customer in the bookstore they call “the biscuit bandit,” someone who nicks biscuits from the little shop and leaves a trail of crumbs in the books.
“Told my manager if she left a trail to a gingerbread house, I’d feed her to the damn witch myself.”
“Fran!” Islan says, snorting with laughter.