The closet was neatly organized, housing only somber suits and clothes in dark navy, dark charcoal, dark green, and black. Jeans, sweaters, cardigans, T-shirts, boots, shoes, and tennis shoes—everything was in dark hues. Hidden in a small corner, a sprinkle of white, baby-pink, and light-blue tailored shirts and ties didn’t manage to lighten up the dark mood. It looked like he was in permanent mourning.
Her hand poised on his forearm. “Don’t you like colors?”
“I do. In others. Especially in you.”
“Tavish Uilleam, with your eyes and this windblown raven hair, I’m sure you’d turn out very nicely in greens and blues. Or even in more feminine hues, such as lavender.”
A corner of his mouth lifted up, but it was more a sad grimace than a smile. “I’ll have ye know that everyone dons colors so they can disguise themselves under their masks. Few can dress in black and white and still laugh at life.”
Brushing away a lock that had fallen over his eyes, she asked, “And is that what you do?”
His broad shoulders lifted in a forceful way, as if he could shake away the burden he carried. “Sometimes.”
Laetitia didn’t ask him to elaborate. She let her hand fall, her fingertips caressing him softly. The many different beautiful colors hidden under his dark shades of gray were in need of proper care and attention to flourish again. And Laetitia had always had a penchant for nurturing.
“That way is the bathroom.” He motioned farther in but retreated to the bedroom.
Her eyes turned to the bed when she exited the dressing room. It made her want him to fling her on it and have his way with her right now.
His back only straightened when her hand ran over the velvet and silk coverlet, which made her wonder if he would be annoyed if she messed up its perfectness.
“That’s beautiful.” Her voice was husky, betraying her lustful thoughts. “I mean, it looks so . . . comfortable.”
We’ll test it later. “Sophia’s courtesy and insistence.” He shrugged. His answer had a sheepish tone, as if he were not allowed any comfort. However, for once in years he wished his apartment had more amenities he could offer to her. Pointing to another space, he said, “Upstairs, I have a guest room and a small office.”
They went into a nicely furnished en suite office, from where they reached another room, which was closed.
“Finally!” she said loudly, jabbing his side.
He looked at her bemused. “What?”
She motioned with her chin. “A door!”
“I remade the whole floor plan. It fits my preference for open spaces.” He stared down at her, absently replying, but in his eyes there was such a torment Laetitia immediately regretted saying anything. “Anyway, I have to give some privacy to the few male guests allowed here.”
Cracking a rock with pencil? She sighed. More like drilling into a hard mountain with my nails.
The combination and placement were more cheerful, with an antique four-poster and chest. The upholstered chairs were done in pool-green suede combined with a Missoni white-and-green pattern. Even the adornments were lighter and less crowded. There was only a black-and-white photograph of Grace Kelly.
“This is fantastic. Is it done with . . . real diamonds?”
“Aye. Of course, returned after used. Brazilian photographer Vik Muniz’s Diamond Divas series. Also Sophia’s choosing.”
And exactly how much influence does this Sophia exert in your life? “She has good taste.”
“Excellent,” he answered, in a proud tone. “She is a great woman, with many qualities.”
I’ll have to have a tête-à-tête with her. Laetitia’s brows lowered. And I can’t forget to stamp “Laetitia’s property” on your forehead ASAP. Jealousy flared in her chest, but she didn’t recognize the emotion, as she had never felt proprietary over anyone. God, Laetitia, you can’t continue like this. Either you want him or you don’t.
And up again they went. On the fourth and last floor, an open terrace took center stage, with a lovely garden with shrubs—and even trees—so well manicured that it seemed from a doll’s house. On the covered part there were two huge reclining chairs, with a table between them.
“Oh, Tavish Uilleam. That’s so . . .” Whatever she was going to say was forgotten when she saw a very small hothouse with bonsai. “Oh! Such fabulous specimens. Do you collect them?”
“Nae. I grow them.”
“Really?” Laetitia was stunned. Again.
“I’ve always loved plants, and bonsai have become a therapy since I came back from the war.” His fingers adoringly caressed the small leaves of a bonsai tree, and she grew jealous of them. “Along with managing The Blue Dot and a stable in Richmond, it turned out to be my fave pastime.”
She picked up his large hands, turned them, and ran her thumbs over his slightly calloused palms and long fingers, which seemed too brutish to do such delicate work. “I would never have imagined it.”
He moved closer, searching her eyes, studying her features, then bent his head. His fingers entwined with hers. “Hands can do wonders.”
Oh, yes, they can. Especially yours.
There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, as if lightning had just struck a tree.
“I erred.”
His lust-filled whisper embraced her. Laetitia breathed in, and his masculine smoky-sweet scent hit her full force. “In what?”
His hands pulled her up onto his body, and Laetitia’s fingers wandered into his hair, tugging at the silk lengths, pulling him close for a kiss, which he resisted until he was seated on one of the large terrace reclining chairs, and she was straddling him. “Bonsai is my second favorite pastime.”
She smiled cheekily and whispered on his lips, “What is your favorite pastime now?”
There was no mistaking his arousal when he flexed himself on her and pulled her down for a kiss. A rush of desire swept her entire being, and a soft moan came from her mouth when he brushed his lips on hers.
He didn’t answer her question, nor did she ask again.
CHAPTER 35
The Blue Dot
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
9:23 a.m.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I came as soon as I could, because I have uncovered some . . . interesting information.” Baptist handed Tavish a thick file. “I have found the monastery. But we might have a problem. The real Laetitia Galen’s parents are looking for her. She has disappeared—or was abducted—twenty or so years ago, when she was two.”
“Jesus. This gets more complicated by the minute.” Tavish ran his fingers in his hair. “We have tae cancel the exposition.”
“Nae. Not yet.” Alistair shook his head, running a hand over his jaw, pensive. “You get me her documents, Tavish Uilleam.”
Tavish sighed. Lies were piling on top of lies, and they were starting to get heavy. “Anything on the calls?”
“The calls and messages came from a cell phone that was found near the body of an Irishman, in Warwickshire. I added the police report and autopsy photos. There was alcohol in his blood, and locals believed him to be mentally handicapped.” Baptist motioned to the file. “I already have a man inside the cult, Mr. MacCraig. But I still need a few more days.”
“We asked you to find a phone . . . and you found a corpse? This just got much more serious than we anticipated.”
Alistair’s voice sounded very distant, and whatever Baptist answered was lost on Tavish.
In the autopsy photos, he saw marks on the man’s forearms and back similar to Laetitia’s. We are running out of time.
3:00 p.m.
Laetitia was amused when a completely besotted—concerned and guilty—Tavish entered Maddox’s office saying he was taking Laetitia to have lunch and do some shopping.
She was feeling quite in the mood to indulge herself. Since she had arrived in London, Tatiana and Maddox were working her to the bone, as Tavish had warned they would.
Tavish, on the other hand, was amazed. He had never thought he?
??d enjoy shopping, much less with a woman. She modeled several different ensembles for him, wanting his opinion on everything. He couldn’t find fault in her taste; from vintage to new, expensive clothes or inexpensive accessories, everything she chose had a subtle touch of elegance. He encouraged her to spend more, but she only took one or two items.
At the last shop, as in all they’d entered before, a saleswoman immediately approached. She eyed Laetitia speculatively, from the large cream crochet band, which covered part of her forehead and hair and kept her ears hidden, to the velvet lilac overcoat worn over a shade-darker maxi wool dress to her combat boots, and offered, “I’m Laura. Are you looking for something special?”
“We are just browsing,” Tavish answered.
After Laetitia had chosen the pieces she wanted to try, Tavish topped the pile with a few of his own choices. “Could you help us, please?”
“With pleasure.” In seconds, displaying a huge smile, she was on friendly terms with Laetitia, directing her to a large space at the back of the shop.
A young woman brought a silver tray and bucket, offering her water, champagne, and small sandwiches, while another started bringing in the clothes in her size.
She had just undressed to her underwear when Tavish strolled in with a lethal-feline grace and sank in the comfortable armchair, relaxing his towering frame and stretching his long legs in front of himself, crossing them at his ankles.
“What—what . . . you—you,” she sputtered, not managing to finish the sentence, as she willed herself not to cross her arms in front of her body.
“Indulge me.” With a full-fledged smile, he whispered to her, “It’s nothing I have not seen before and everything I want to see every day from now on.”
“You . . .” She blushed, looking over her shoulder, but Laura and the other woman helping her were opening zippers and undoing buttons. Is this a common occurrence? “Fifteenth-century Highlander.”
“Still water, thank you.” Tavish accepted his glass, relishing the way she paired what she had already bought with the new pieces, his mind started conjuring naughty thoughts on how to undress her out of them, and his body got primed to have her right there in the fitting room. He was astonished at the easy way she aroused him.
The more he voiced his opinions, the more Laetitia became acutely aware of the sexual undercurrent running between them. She darted glances at him in the mirror. Before long, her nipples had hardened, and her lips parted.
In a husky voice, he directed, “Laura, could you please bring the caramel turtleneck which is in the window?”
As soon as Laura left the fitting room, he was behind Laetitia.
She elbowed him in the stomach. “Shoo. Sit back down before someone comes in.”
“I can’t take it anymore, Laetitia.” His arms snaked around her to press her against his erection. He bent his head to deposit gentle kisses on her shoulder.
She looked at them in the mirror. He towered over her, yet his huge hands and callused palms worked her in an adoring way. She shuddered with pleasure, her breaths shallow. “This is so . . . erotic.”
His hand lowered from her stomach to her panties. He whispered in her ear, “If I touch you, will I find you wet?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Reason flew out of him; his fingers dipped under her silver-and-black lace panties, toying with her nether hair and inching down.
With her last remaining sense, she grabbed his wrist.
“Tavish Uilleam.” She meant to berate him, but his name left her mouth in a moan. “We are going home as soon as we finish here. Stop it.”
He inhaled a huge, deep breath, feeling like a starving wolf, happy for being fed with a scrap of meat. “I’ll try tae manage.”
And just as he sat and adjusted his suit, Laura entered the room with the turtleneck.
Laetitia giggled nervously, but Laura behaved in a very professional way. “Perhaps this will fit. If not, I’ll bring you a smaller one.”
When she pulled down the sweater, its neck caught on her headband and dragged it down to her neck, pulling her hair down over her eyes. Huffing and tugging, Laetitia pulled the band off, and it lifted her hair, exposing her ears.
“Oh, my!” Laura’s eyes were trained on Laetitia’s ears, her mouth wide open. She pivoted and rushed from the room.
Her high heels clicking on the expensive marble and her soft voice calling a feminine name boomed in Laetitia’s ears.
She froze for a heartbeat before she removed the turtleneck, adjusted her headband, and swiftly dressed back in her own clothes.
Laetitia donned an indifferent expression, but Tavish could tell she was embarrassed. While Laetitia was putting her boots on, Tavish picked up the clothes Laetitia had chosen.
“There is nothing that interests me.”
He frowned down at her. “Laetitia, we’re buying them.”
“Might makes right?” Laetitia craned her neck to look at him.
His sea-green eyes brightened with an undefined emotion. “Nae, you make right.”
“Semantics.”
“All right, then. You have rights.” The last piece followed the others into the bundle in his arms.
“Don’t let this spoil our afternoon. It will happen often.”
Laura burst in the room, towing along another woman, when Laetitia was finishing lacing her boots.
Laetitia straightened and raised her chin. “Let’s go.”
“Look at her, Cynthia,” Laura said excitedly to her friend, pointing at Laetitia. “You have to see her ears.”
A dark scowl stained Tavish’s eyes, and he stepped between Laetitia and the women. His quiet voice didn’t betray the well full of anger. “I beg your pardon?”
Laetitia swallowed, tears pricking her eyes. Don’t you dare cry, Laetitia.
Laura was so excited she didn’t mind Tavish’s glare and stepped around him to face Laetitia. “Show her, sweetheart. They’re utterly exquisite.”
Laetitia gaped at them.
“I’ve always dreamed of getting mine done,” said Cynthia, lifting her hair and showing elf-shaped enameled earrings affixed to her ears.
As the two women chattered excitedly around her, Laetitia felt herself floating into a strange, soundless, and nonjudgmental new world, one she fit in better than she had ever imagined she would.
Tavish MacCraig’s apartment
5:48 p.m.
Tavish threw the shopping bags on the floor of his bedroom and motioned to Laetitia, who was waiting by the door. There was a hot, smoldering look in his eyes when he wriggled his fingers at her. “Come here, Little Elf.”
“I was thinking . . .” She tilted her head, eyeing the bulge in his trousers, and looked up to his face. “Can we . . .”
“Aye?” Keep thinking!
“Can we go upstairs? I want to . . . do something.” Without waiting for an answer, she moved to the top floor, he following on her heels.
“Jacket, socks, and shoes off,” she ordered, as she pulled off her boots and thigh-highs. Chewing on her bottom lip, she threw a few pillows on the floor along with some blankets, until she was satisfied with the arrangement.
“Aren’t ye going tae tell me what you are planning?” he asked, having removed the offending items.
“Not yet.” She licked her lips and giggled nervously. He was standing up in the middle of the room, occupying the space as no other man did. She pointed to one of two large reclining armchairs. “Sit there as a good boy.”
Oh, fuck. He reclined in the armchair and welcomed her in his arms, when she climbed on his lap.
Where is your courage? “Keep your hands to yourself until I say so.” Laetitia ran a nail across his jaw, enjoying the rasp of it against the five-o’clock stubble, and then she kissed him. A mere brush of her wet lips against his dry lips.
He spoke the words against her mouth. “What do ye think you are doing?”
“Be quiet, or I’ll stop.” She kissed him again, a little more firm
ly, with a little more passion, tasting, exploring every nuance of his mouth. The arched bow of the upper lip and the sweet fullness of the lower. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips but did not seek entrance; instead, she dallied, enjoying him—and herself.
“That’s torture.” He moaned beneath her, the sound slipping from his mouth to hers. And I like that. I most definitely do.
Her tongue slipped between the opening of his lips, not far, but enough to taunt, brushing along the slickness of his teeth, savoring, her hands combing his hair, learning his neck and shoulders, down his chest to cup him over the trousers.
He moaned and moved beneath her. Her fingers pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt, helping him take it off.
His hands gripped her waist, trying to pull her closer to him.
She moved back, sitting up straight again. “Stop that. Do you want me to tie your hands over your head?”
He laughed. “And how would you manage that?”
“I imagine words would be enough—or . . . I can use your tie.” Would I rather tie or be tied?
He rolled his eyes and said with a sigh, “I’ll be good.”
“You learn too fast.” She was almost sorry. Her imagination had been painting such a pretty picture. Leaning forward, she gave him one gentle kiss and then one slightly deeper. The kiss grew serious, challenging. Her hands rose, tangling in his hair, wanting him closer. His breath grew uneven.
“Laetitia, I’m so hard for you,” he whispered in her mouth, when she broke the kiss to lick and nibble at his strong shoulders. “What are ye doing with me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, her hands lowering to touch his abdomen. “But I know what I want to—what I want you—us to do.”
“What is that?” He closed his eyes as she unzipped his trousers and gripped him tight.
Oh, God. She trailed kisses down to his chest and then back up, biting his earlobe, wondering when she had become so bold. With her face buried in his hair, she whispered, “A blow job, complete with arumatio.”