“Of course. And then when we need to get away and have some privacy, when it’s safe, we can come back to my flat in the city.”
She smiles, and releases a breath, her shoulders dropping. “Aye, Mac. Yes, please. I’d like that.”
I tangle my fingers in the back of her hair, at the nape of her neck, that sweet, vulnerable spot that always makes her sigh. I kiss her, loving the way her breath hitches, the way her hand comes to my shoulder to hold herself. I wrap my arm around her, holding her, and I know then something that fills me both with hope and dread.
I could fall in love with this woman.
I probably already have.
Chapter 12
Bryn
The conversation with my father haunts me, even after Mac’s done everything in his power to eviscerate it from my memory. He’s kissed me, he's held me, he drove me back to his chalet in the mountains. We weren't followed. In a strange twist of irony, my father ensured that. But I'm a little nervous that the Cowen Clan won't buy my story. Hell, I’m not sure I believe it myself.
My father doesn’t know that I’ll betray him. He doesn’t know that I can’t bear to hurt anyone, especially someone I’ve feelings for, like… Mac.
I don’t know how I’ll get away. I don’t know how I’ll get out of this.
After the surprise attack from Michail, I called my father. There was a reason why I asked Mac to wait in the other room.
I told my father exactly what he wanted to hear and exactly what I needed to.
“I’ve got Mac Cowen in the palm of my hand. He’s fallen for it, for everything, and your henchman almost ruined it.”
“You’ve got him?” my father asked, and I could hear the glee in his voice.
“Aye. He’s brought me back to his family. They trust me. I need time to do this right.”
Time. So much time. I need a plan for how I’ll get away from it all, how I’ll do it without betraying Mac.
“What did Michail do?”
I told him as much as I dared. Michail will either face the music or be excused from my father’s staff. Maybe both.
Now I’ll have Mac alone, without interference from anyone… anyone on my side of the family, anyway.
I finish my work and put it away. We join his family for dinner, and it’s as enjoyable as breakfast. They’re smart and witty, and I love his sisters and mum. I’m damn near green with envy they’ve a family like this, but grateful they’ve welcomed me.
I don’t eat much, though. My nerves are fraught.
But that night, Mac erases the worry from me. I can’t think of my father, or my family, or anything at all, when he fucks me so hard and masterfully my legs are made of jelly when he’s through.
We lie by the fire, completely spent. He's got a soft, wool blanket wrapped around both of us. We lie there in the silence, skin to skin, my head on his chest, as he gently rubs my back.
“You had a long day,” he says, wrapping his leg around mine as he gently strokes his fingers through my hair.
“Aye,” I say on a yawn. My eyes feel so heavy, I’m going to close them for a minute. Just a minute. “So did you.”
“Eh, didn’t work anywhere near as much as you did.”
“But I’m finished,” I say on a yawn. “Thank God.” I yawn again. “Fran will come by tomorrow to pick things up, so I can see her for the final fitting.”
“Excellent. I’m so glad you finished, darlin’. I know that weighed on you.” I don’t think he much cares about her dress fitting, but he definitely cares about me.
And I like that.
I smile to myself, nestled in the comfort of his arms, listening to the sound of the crackling fire. I begin to lose consciousness, drifting in and out of sleep. I don’t know how much longer it is before he picks me up, but the fire’s died down and it's much darker outside. He stands, holding me against his chest, and walks me to the bedroom. I'm too tired to move. I just lie there, my head against his chest.
I hear the gentle creak of the door, then he walks me to the bed and lays me down. I've never been treated like this before. No one's ever looked after me, or taken care of me like this. And it's so beautifully simple and sweet, I want to stay here forever. I hate the thought of it ending.
How will I ever go back to the life I lived before him?
It isn’t just about me, though, I know it isn’t. If he cares at all about me, will I hurt him? I can’t bear the thought of dimming the light in his bright blue eyes.