Chapter 28 #2
“No bra or panties.” Leith pulls on his chinos, snagging my gaze in the bedroom mirror. “I want easy access all evening.”
I examine the dress’s back in the mirror. “I’ll have to be careful, then, as this falls only to mid-thigh. I hope Diran’s house doesn’t have any sudden, strong winds.”
Leith pulls my hair back. “Your legs go on for miles in this dress. Wear your hair up.”
“Aye, sir.” I salute him, and he gives my rump a swat.
When we arrive at Diran’s, Nandag leads us out to the back terrace, where colored fairy lights illuminate a fountain, a cluster of aged oaks and olives, and a large rustic table canopied by a lush grape arbor.
Lachlan, Skye, Declan’s younger sister Nairna, Callum, and Eiluned are here as well.
While sipping my virgin mojito I only half-listen to the conversation swirling about.
Nandag gives everyone a brief account of her and Diran’s itinerary.
But my eyes are glued to the other room, where Diran welcomes Declan and the willowy, golden-brown-haired Màiri.
Even after Diran has sent them back to us, he remains inside, and I watch as he fiddles about with appetizers and drinks, pretending to have a reason to linger.
Leith follows my gaze. “What are you thinking about?”
“How we’ve found a family.” Though this wasn’t my primary thought, it was still in the back of my mind. “Diran and Lachlan’s father Lowden are much more father figures to me than MacGilson could ever be. And Declan feels like a brother.”
Leith sips his mojito. “That’s how I feel about the Syndicate. Darian included.”
As if on cue, Darian appears with Sorcha in the kitchen, and Diran greets them heartily. Looking toward us and meeting Leith’s eye, Darian frowns.
Diran leads the couple out to the terrace. “Now we have everyone we were expecting.”
“What is all this?” Darian turns in confusion to his father. “You said you had something important to discuss with me and you wanted me to bring Sorcha. You didn’t say this was a full-on shindig.”
Diran’s eyes flick to mine before he clears his throat.
“I do have something important to announce. First, Darian.” He turns to his older son.
“Son, I want you to put aside this meaningless vendetta with Leith. Leith is no more trying for the position of boss than you’re trying to steal his wife.
” When Darian’s expression remains mulish, Diran goes on.
“Part of being a great leader is knowing when to give the right people the benefit of the doubt. I’d hate to think you’re unqualified to lead the Syndicate because you can’t distinguish between your friends and your real enemies. ”
Darian grunts.
Diran turns to Leith. “Leith, I know you’re ready to bury the hatchet. Darian, this is your last chance to do so before you lose all chance of being considered for a successor to me and Callum.”
Darian takes a few steps closer, extending his hand to Leith. “Then so be it.”
Leith looks down at Darian’s hand. “For the record, Dar, I was ready to shake hands six weeks ago.”
He makes Darian wait a long moment before reaching out and clasping his large hand.
Darian glances at his brother. “Declan, are you behind all this?”
As Declan shrugs, Darian turns to Diran, who trains his gaze on me. “Leith’s bride is wise beyond her years. She suggested I bring you both together unawares so you could finally sort out your differences.”
I flush, offering them a shy smile.
Leith kisses my cheek. “She’s a broker of peace, and a persuasive one at that.”
I realize he’s referring to that day at the craft fair, when I wanted him to confide in Diran.
Nandag lifts her glass. “To peace among our own.”
Everyone echoes her toast and drinks.
As they all fall to talking and laughing, Leith murmurs in my ear, “You’ve never been so fuckable as now, when you’ve pulled off this reconciliation.” He slides his hand lower on my hip, pulling me close. “God help them if they try to pry my hands off you this evening.”
My gaze dips to his mesmerizing lips. “Wait another six months, and I won’t be so fuckable.”
“You’ll be more so,” he stresses. “I can’t wait to fuck you when your belly is round as the globe and heavier than a bowling ball.
” He catches my lower lip between his teeth and nibbles before delving his tongue in and plundering me.
The world drops away, and everything inside me grows oozy and warm.
Like him, his kiss demands, promises, and punishes all at once.
Demands I stay alert and keen. Promises he’ll love me till death. Punishes me for doubting myself.
And with him, I can almost believe I’m invincible.
* * *
The next day my Instagram live chat with Debra Foster attracts two point two million viewers, in large part because her novel, The Summoned, blends literary fiction with horror.
But I can see the engagement rising exponentially on my posts.
I gain another two hundred thirty thousand followers in just a few hours, and Foster’s publisher, Four and Twenty Blackbirds, signs me on to a contract that’s even more favorable than the Horizons contract.
“I’m in charge of the vlogs, IG live interviews, and reviews for their next twelve authors,” I tell Leith as we dress for date night. “I think I’ve made it.”
Clad in only a black lace bra and panty ensemble, I’m standing in front of two dresses, trying to decide which to wear. Leith encompasses me from behind, raising my right arm to select the scarlet backless number with an asymmetrical hemline.
“You have made it, and you did it under your own steam.” He encircles my waist, slipping his hand under my panties and teasing my warmth. “Some of those followers may have followed you at first because of me, but they all stayed because of you.”
A moan escapes me as his fingers brush my clit. “This was what I dreamt of when I thought of being a bookfluencer. But I honestly never thought it would come to pass.” Using books, I’m making a positive impact on thousands of people’s lives.
As he sinks his fingers into me, I tilt my hips for more. “Why not?”
“Largely because of the night Grizel and I were assaulted. It robbed me of much of my confidence and made me second-guess myself at every turn.” I hold onto his forearms, rotating my pelvis to catch more friction.
In many ways four years ago handicapped me. But somehow, in the course of coming to love Leith, encountering Leavy again, and punishing Phyfe MacGilson, I’ve gone from being a victim to being a victorious soldier.
“And now?” He curls his fingers up to nudge the spot that rockets me to the moon.
“Now—ungh—I can go about my life without constantly looking over my shoulder. I can accomplish things without letting that night define me. I can talk and think about it and still keep it in the past. I can be close to a man without having an anxiety attack.”
Leith pauses his stroking of my pussy. “You won’t be getting close enough to any men to test that theory, wee wife.”
I would laugh, but I’m on the verge of a cataclysm. A needy groan is all I can muster.
Just as my O threatens to tip me over the edge, he pulls his fingers out and pats my hungry cunt through my panties.
He meets my frustrated pout with a wicked smile. “That was just a teaser, Flame. To keep you on edge for the evening. I want you keen and ready for whenever I decide to take you.”
“Cruel bastard,” I mutter.
A malicious glitter enters his eyes. “Shall I gag you for our date as well?”
My mouth hangs open. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
His lips twitch with roguish energy. “The prospect is getting more tempting by the second.”
I dart around him with the scarlet dress. “Then I’d better hurry up and get dressed.”
He takes me to Ox and Finch, a cool restaurant in Finnieston with high ceilings and tapas-style plates. Since we’re both hungry, we order a bunch of small dishes to share.
After we’ve finished, a young couple mosey up to us, the woman tucking her long blonde hair behind her ear and smiling shyly.
“Excuse me,” she opens. “Are you Iona Cargill, the bookstagrammer?”
I’m so floored, for a moment I don’t know what to say.
Leith answers for me, pride tinging his voice. “She is.”
“Could I have your autograph on my copy of The Summoned?” She pulls the thick paperback out of her handbag.
“O-of course,” I stammer, still scarcely believing this is happening.
Using her pen, I write her a brief note on the flyleaf and sign my name.
“Thank you!” She beams. “I love your reviews, your Bookish Rambles, and live interviews.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to hear.” As I clasp her outstretched hand, flutterings stir in my heart.
“Well, I’ll let you enjoy your meal. It was a great pleasure to meet you. I’m Steph.”
When Steph and her boyfriend have left, fondness and mischief twinkle in Leith’s eyes. “I’ve decided I’ll take my dessert in the ladies’ room. I feel like enjoying a piece of the famous Iona Cargill.”
As he pushes to his feet and presses a hand to my lower spine, my giddiness intensifies. I’m in love with my husband, I love my work, and I love my life.
I touch my belly, realizing a new soul will soon come to be, and I’ll have even more to love. “Are you at all nervous about being a father?”
He rests his free hand over mine. “Petrified. I don’t want to be like my parents.”
I lean into him. “You never could be. You’re too empathic. And you never forget what it was like to be that scared little boy.”
“There is one thing that makes me forget.” At my blank expression, his lips twitch. “Being buried inside you, wee Scheherazade.”
I understand, since that makes me forget too.