Unpredictable Love

  Tavish MacCraig’s apartment

  5:01 p.m.

  She traced random drawings on a notepad, her eyes glued to the baroness’s diary.

  “Hullo.”

  Laetitia jumped on the reclining chair, diary, pencil, and notepad falling to the floor, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Did I scare you?” Tavish walked over to her, sat by her feet, and gave her a long kiss. Then he bent and picked up the items that had fallen and arranged them neatly on the table. “Hugh invited us to spend the weekend at Lakeside. Your puppy is waiting for you. Do you want to go?”

  “Yes!” she said excitedly. “Can we go tomorrow morning? I can pack the rest of my things, say good-bye to the baron, and we can have dinner with Sebastian and Virginia and Liz at the Lodge. After dinner, we go to Lakeside Manor. Can we do that?”

  “Aye. Now, I was wondering . . .” He smiled at her, with a hungry look in his eyes. “Maybe, I can help you with some ideas for a new baroness series painting.”

  Notting Hill

  8:00 p.m.

  Johansen walked the last block to his apartment, deep in his thoughts, when a limousine halted beside him, and the driver’s window lowered, revealing a man in a cap.

  “Sir.”

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “Get in, Mr. Kinsella,” the man said calmly, as if he were asking for directions.

  “What?” He stepped back cautiously. “Why sh-should I?”

  “There’s someone who would like a word with you.”

  “A-about wh-what?” He stepped back and stopped cold, as he felt something sharp poke at his back. He craned his neck.

  “Air Chief Marshall Sir Leon Camden.” Leon smiled a closed-mouth smile. “I won’t hurt you. I want to ask you some questions about Laetitia Galen.”

  Johansen closed his eyes, nodded silently, and got in.

  The inside of the car was dim, but the light was enough for him to see Leon’s face and his sheathing a sharp hunting knife.

  “What do you want with my granddaughter, Laetitia?”

  “Laetitia is your granddaughter?” Johansen looked askance at Leon. “I’ve never seen you at the monastery.”

  “Young man, you don’t want to make me angry,” Leon leaned in to him. “Answer the question.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Answer the question! What do you want with Laetitia?”

  Johansen scratched his head and sighed, feeling tired. “The calls were only meant to scare her, warn her to keep a low profile.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s an old and long story, but in short, my identical twin, he was hurt by Laetitia—”

  Leon laughed out loud. “Laetitia? She can’t hurt a fly.”

  “Sir, you would be surprised,” Johansen said, serious. “She—”

  “Why did you pay that man to bring her to London?” Leon interrupted.

  “Man?” Johansen looked at Leon confused. “I haven’t paid any—”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Kinsella,” he snarled and showed Johansen the piece of paper that he had taken from Alejandro’s pocket. “That pompous ass confessed it.”

  “Goddammit! Goddammit!” Johansen swallowed nervously. His surname and the address of the cult’s office in London were written on the piece of paper. “Listen to me! Your granddaughter might—she is in grave danger.”

  That got Leon’s attention.

  CHAPTER 45

  Beardley Lodge

  Friday, October 31, 2014

  2:10 p.m.

  “Phew! Finished!” Tavish closed another box containing Laetitia’s belongings, sat, and plopped back on the floor of her bedroom, by her side.

  It had taken them a few hours to pack the rest of her personal belongings and sort which decoration pieces and furniture they were taking to his apartment and which they would send to his manor in Scotland.

  “Don’t complain, big barbarian Highlander.” She stretched out her arms and yawned. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, we’re going to spend the rest of the weekend at your friends’ house doing nothing.”

  He grimaced. “Argh! My back is hurting.”

  “Oh, Tavish Uilleam.” She sat up, with a concerned expression on her face. “Why didn’t you say so? Is there something I can do to help?”

  “Actually, I have something in mind that will ease it quite a bit . . .” He grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over his body, taking her face between his hands, and looking at her, his ardent sea-green eyes illuminated with desire.

  His mouth swooped down on hers.

  Their teeth clashed; then his tongue was in her mouth. Desire exploded throughout her body, and she kissed him back, matching his fervor, her hands grabbing his hair, pulling it.

  He tasted of mint, and she smelled of flowers.

  He groaned, a low, sexy sound, which reverberated through her, and his hands moved down her body to the top of her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh through her skirt.

  That electricity sparking between them made her hyperaware of his body, of his heat, firing her already singeing blood.

  He broke off the kiss, panting, and rolled, caging her under his body. His midnight-black hair fell over his forehead in thick silk bangs; his expression was sexual and raw, like a panther, eager to feed but still stalking his prey.

  “You are so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice a scorching whisper.

  It was a long journey from her face to her knees, with a pause at each piece of garment he took off, but he enjoyed it, enjoyed the little gasps and delighted moans that escaped her lips, the silkiness of her skin under his light touch, her heavy breasts and round hips in his hands, and the sweet taste of her on his lapping tongue.

  “Tavish.” She felt on fire beneath his fingers and mouth, despite the coldness of the room. “Please.”

  It all got more feverish as he made his way back without touching her where she needed it most. When he rose above her, she moaned at the hunger reflected back on his handsome face.

  And he kissed her. Deeply. Possessing her mouth, angling her head, controlling her.

  She moaned against his lips. Everything ignited inside her, and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her, kissing him back.

  He pulled back and looked at her, his eyelids heavy with lust, hooding but not hiding his passionate sea-green eyes.

  He shifted, pulled her astride him, and whispered, “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  And then he was easing her on to his hard erection, slowly, exquisitely slowly, filling her, then suddenly flexing his hips sharply.

  She gasped at the sensation, reveling in the stretching fullness. She moved up and then down, gazing fixedly at him, watching him as he was watching her.

  They were wet and slippery and moving against each other. All sensation and all consuming. And the cool air became a stirring vortex, as their movements became more frantic.

  Her small hands took possession of his chest; her long pale-white hair surrounded him in a private cocoon, whispering against his skin; her tightness enclosed him inside her, and he closed his eyes.

  She leaned down and kissed him, tugging his hair, tipping his head back and deepening the kiss, controlling him as he had controlled her.

  He thrust his hips quicker and quicker, holding her hips, kissing her back as she rode him, faster, picking up the rhythm.

  “Laetitia,” Tavish grunted, crushing her to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  An orgasm rippled through her, turbulent and passionate, devouring her whole. She poured all the ecstatic joy into their kiss, binding him to her.

  In that moment of blinding passion, when he felt nothing but her, he did the same. “You. Are. Mine.”

  “I’m yours,” she whispered, “and you are mine.”

  And all that was, was a blissful shock turning him inside out, exposing the basest, most desperate needs studded in the deepest layer of his being, l
aying himself bare to her. When it ended, he murmured on her lips, “Aye, I’m yours.”

  4:00 p.m.

  “Be a good boy and buy everything on here. Sebastian, Virginia, and Liz will be arriving at any minute.”

  Tavish looked at the long list of items he was supposed to buy and scratched his head. “Couldn’t you concoct a simpler dish?”

  “Of course not,” Laetitia answered and pushed him toward the door.

  “Of course not.” He grinned at her. “Anything else, ma’am?”

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Just hurry. I can’t stay away from you too long.”

  “Neither can I, Snowdrop.” He smiled down at her. “Neither can I.”

  CHAPTER 46

  4:30 p.m.

  “Didn’t take you long to—” Laetitia’s smile died on her lips when she saw who was on the other side of the door she had just swung open.

  “Eight years, pet. Took me eight years,” Andrew slurred, his heavy palm hitting her right across the breasts, knocking the wind out of her and her legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the floor. She screamed.

  Bile made its way up, gagging Laetitia, as she crawled, like a crab, away from him, her eyes locked on his once-so-beautiful face. There was nothing there but a mass of badly healed broken bones and a multitude of scars. “How did you find me?”

  “He didn’t. He can barely see. But I did, freak. You should have kept a low profile. Instead you have bandied your face all over the Internet. It wasn’t difficult to follow you and your ritzy boy.” Behind Andrew, Geoffrey closed and locked the door. Rasping his knuckles on them, he said, “Good doors you have here. They will keep your boy toy away.”

  Please, Tavish, please. She stood up and ran to the living room, grabbing her iPhone and tapping nervously.

  “It was even easier to know when you were going to be here. I just had to call the art gallery and say I was an old friend passing through London. Voilà, I had the information I needed. You were bound to be alone a few hours.”

  “Not a word, pet? Nothing to say?” Andrew walked into the living room, followed by Geoffrey. “Well, I have plenty to say to you.”

  She faced him, and walking backward, she wound her way to the kitchen but stumbled into a chair.

  The mobile fell to the floor and slid under the sofa.

  “Missing me already, Little Elf,” Tavish answered with a smile, but the male voices he heard on the other side of the line made his heart stop. His blood thundered in his veins; blinding rage consuming him.

  He slammed his foot down on the brake pedal and skillfully spun the car, bringing it to a stop, then stepped on the gas, letting out all he had been holding in since he had come back from the war, letting it come to the front. Tavish cleared his mind of everything but Laetitia’s screams and went into full battle mode.

  “Die.”

  “Where is your military boy now, huh?” Andrew smirked.

  “He’ll kill you if you hurt me, you know.” Laetitia raised her chin. Come on, Laetitia. You can do better. Feeling with her hands, she gripped a porcelain statue.

  “Andrew’ll be finished, and we’ll be long gone before he comes back.” Geoffrey slumped on the sofa. “Nice place.”

  “He is manipulating you, as he did in the monastery,” Laetitia tried to reason with Andrew. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh, I do. I donated Geoffrey all my money—all!—to be here with you today, pet.”

  She shook her head. “Intelligence was never your forte, was it? If I recall correctly, the intelligent one was your brother. The one who kissed me first, who pledged me his love—beautiful empty words. He was the one who made me fall in love with this face of yours. You were the brute, the sicko.” Don’t provoke him. You need time. “And you, Geoffrey. Why do you hate me so much? Why?”

  “Tell her, Geoffrey. It will be so nice of you to acknowledge her before she dies,” Andrew said.

  Acknowledge me?

  “Quite simple. Your grandfather expelled your mother from home when he discovered she was going to the cult. Everything is in a trust where I can’t reach it,” Geoffrey said calmly and put his feet on the table. “Do you understand what I am saying, freak? I am your dearest father.”

  My father? She gasped, and her steps faltered. Dizziness hit hard, along with an emptiness, which sucked the air out of her lungs. “You’re lying, lying! I’m an orphan.”

  “Now that you know, pet, attention on the matter at hand.” Andrew snapped his fingers at her and pulled out from his coat the sgian-duhb with the jeweled stag antler, the one he had used to cut her wrists. “Remember this?”

  Laetitia spat in his face, raised her hand, and smashed the porcelain statue against his temple. Andrew stumbled and put a hand to his head; it came away red.

  “You bitch!” Andrew grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall, his fingers curling around her slowly, toying with her. He raised what was supposed to be an eyebrow but was only a deep gash of scar tissue. “Geoffrey, I need a little hand here.”

  “You don’t want to do this.” Where are you, Tavish Uilleam?

  “You don’t want to do this,” he parroted. “I do, pet. I’ll fuck you in every hole until you are bleeding. Then I will carve your face, as you carve your paintings, as you carved my face, until I see no more lying eyes, pert nose, or pouty lips. You will beg to die, but I will go on and on. Until you have no more voice to scream. Then, and only then, will I kill you, bitch.”

  Geoffrey approached them. “What is this, freak? No tears?”

  She exhaled in a puff when Andrew loosened his fingers. “Why, Geoffrey? I was a kid. I did nothing to you.”

  “Because. Because you’re the spitting image of that son of a bitch, your grandfather.” Geoffrey shrugged and asked Andrew, “What do you need, my son?”

  “Hold her hands, will you, Geoffrey?” Andrew threw her on the ground and straddled her legs, ripping her blouse. He smiled, the puckered lines of his face tugging and twisting. “Oh. This is going to be so much fun, pet.”

  “I’m not going. Without. A fight.” She clawed her nails into his neck, giving him everything she had.

  He heard Laetitia scream when he was many feet from her door but still in time to see it closing behind the back of a man who was not Tavish. He suddenly felt like he was standing in a lightning storm, holding a steel rod.

  Leon Camden was an independent and proud man—too proud, he knew—who didn’t like to give explanations, ask for permissions, or have his orders not obeyed, much less receive orders. He didn’t accept interferences in his life unless from his superiors, and he detested the police, yet in this unique case, he would welcome their help. He grabbed his mobile and called 999. “Air Marshall Camden speaking. I’m at Beardley Lodge, in Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire. A man is trying to kill my granddaughter. I’m going in.”

  “Sir, stay—”

  “Pay attention!” he said sharply, rattling clear instructions on how to find the place, while doing a mental calculation of landmarks. It was as natural to him as breathing and necessary to his survival in war. The closest and quickest way—not the best, but it would do—was the front window. “I’m armed. With a hunting rifle. You better arrive here before I kill the son of a bitch.”

  Putting an arm over his face, Leon broke the glass, smashed the pieces away, and entered the house. He crouched on his heels and scanned the darkness. He had to get his granddaughter out of there and to somewhere safe.

  Hoping he was half as good as he was on his active days in the RAF, he trained his rifle to the ceiling and fired.

  Laetitia’s mouth opened, but only a hoarse rasp came out, when the old iron chandelier exploded from the ceiling, then crashed to the floor.

  Andrew cursed loudly and climbed off her.

  “Oh, pet! The cavalry has arrived! Would you prefer to see him die or to let him watch me fuck you?” he said. “Geoffrey, welcome our guest, will you?”

  W
ith tears running down her face, throat raw from his choking, a dull ache radiating from her right arm, which lay broken and limply at her side, Laetitia couldn’t fight Andrew’s strong grip, as he kneeled and pulled her flush to his front.

  Sebastian, Virginia, and Elizabeth stopped in their tracks when they heard the blasts. The women screamed in fright.

  “What was that?” asked Elizabeth, her hand over her heart.

  “Shots,” Sebastian said grimly. “Virginia, Elizabeth, go back to the manor. Call the police. I’m going to check on Laetitia.”

  Tavish, having been disconnected from Laetitia’s call when he heard the shots, dialed a number.

  “Tell me,” said Hugh in his abrupt way.

  “I need help. Laetitia is being attacked.” Tavish wasted no time. “Call the police and Alistair Connor. Tell them to meet me at Beardley Lodge.”

  Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.

  It had been a long time since Sebastian had taken such a run. He arrived at the Lodge just in time to see a Range Rover skid to the back garden. He followed, making sure he could not be seen.

  Leon slid against the walls, then ordered, “Let her go!”

  “Drop the gun,” Andrew answered, then asked Laetitia, “Who is that old piece of shit, pet?”

  She shook her head.

  Coming from the French windows, bright lights illuminated the whole room. Andrew cursed, as a bullet embedded in the wall by his head.

  “Fuck, fuck,” Tavish rolled to the ground and crawled to the kitchen door. It was his best chance—maybe his only chance.

  From the last sounds he had heard, Tavish knew that Laetitia and the men were in there. He pushed the key in and turned the knob slowly. It opened a crack, showing him Laetitia’s hand lying limply on the floor. He pulled his big body in as quickly and quietly as he could.

  “Doc.” Sebastian’s whisper stopped him from closing the door. “What is happening?”