Mac (Mountain Men 2) - Page 90

“I see,” she whispers. “Aye. Seems too easy, though, Mac.”

He holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger, trapping my gaze with his. “Do you think being married to a man like me can really be classified as easy?”

I snort. “I doubt it, but I’m willing to put the work into finding out.”

“Atta girl,” he says, kissing my cheek. “You make me proud.”

It’s the first damn time in my life anyone’s ever said that to me.

“Are you crying, baby?”

I sniff like a fool.

“I can’t help it,” I say. “No one’s ever told me they were proud of me before. Especially not someone I try to manipulate.” He laughs out loud, rolls me over and smacks my arse.

His eyes go half-lidded, and his voice deepens.

“When you had me punish you… was that because you felt guilty for what you were doing?”

I nod. “Aye. Silly, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “Not silly at all, darlin’. I understand completely. You had a guilty conscience. And even though you didn’t come completely clean, a part of you felt as if you needed to. Understandable. The only problem was, you weren’t the only one that was in the middle of it. I was guilty as well.”

“Well then,” I say. “I think you’re right that it’s time for us to put this behind us. I think it’s time for us to move on altogether. And like we said… a fresh start.”

He nods.

I smile up at him.

“Hello, there. My name’s Mac. Fancy a drink some time?”

I smile, and place my head on his chest, feeling so at ease for the first time in my entire life. “Nice to meet you, Mac. And I’d love to.”

Chapter 21

Mac

I don’t want to take her home at first. We both had so many things happen, but it seems natural for us to take a holiday in Paris. And why the hell not?

To my brother’s credit, they take care of things at home, and sort everything out with Aitkens. I will never tell Bryn, but Leith paid a dowry in the sum of over a million euro. It’s the largest we’ve ever paid. But he does it without regret, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

I work hard at making the alliances that I started forming before I met Bryn. I want to put money back in the Cowen family coffers, and I’m here to do just that. So I meet the people I need to in the early morning. There never was a Mademoiselle Black, but there are definitely people here that I need to work with.

I fulfill a contract on behalf of Keenan McCarthy from Ireland. He calls and asks me to and pays me amply for my time. I wire the money straight to Leith.

I manage to secure a direct line with a Parisian mobster, and by the time we leave, I’ve not only made the most lucrative deals of my career, but I have new alliances as well.

Everyone knows that we’ve defeated Aitkens. He’s hated not only in Scotland, but all around Europe. When it’s discovered that I’ve married his daughter and he’s powerless, it’s easy to form neutral alliances with other groups.

During the days we travel through Paris. I take her to every fucking tourist place on the map. Bryn loves every minute of it with the enthusiasm of a child. I’m so thankful for our time together. I fall more in love with her with every day that passes.

It’s fucking beautiful. It’s fucking everything.

I make love to her whenever possible. I take my time, making slow, sweet love in the early twilight morning, and at night have my way with her, tying her wrists to the bedposts, pinning her to the bed while I fuck her. I make her scream my name. I make her come so hard that she knows she’s fucking mine with every breath that she draws.

I buy her a diamond ring the day before we return to Scotland. It’s a beautiful, sparkly gem, with blood-red rubies on either side of it. She picks it out and tells me the reason why she likes it is because it’s a reminder of where we came from. Our fierce allegiances to our families forged us, and if not for the ties of family, for better or for worse, we never would’ve found each other.

And now we have.

“It isn’t morbid for you?” I ask, gesturing to the ring. “You sure, lass?”

“No, Mac, it isn’t at all,” she says softly. “I love it.”

“And I love you.”

We dine one final time in a little café in the heart of Paris. I bring up a subject that I’ve wondered about for a while.

“What do you want from your future, Bryn? What is it that you want from life?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She puts her croissant down on her plate, sips from her water glass. She looks thoughtful before she responds, but once she’s made up her mind, she meets my eyes and smiles.

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