CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LIZZIE
We pulled into the drive to find Brochan waiting for us. I had been a wreck for the last few days. I knew I didn’t need to worry about him, but it didn’t stop me. Tomas needed to be handled, whatever his deal was he’d crossed the line when he came at me. Why had he? I suppose it didn’t really matter because he was now dealing with the consequences of his actions. However Brochan chose to handle Tomas I would have supported, but I was thrilled he’d opted to call the cops instead of taking the matter into his own hands. Though, from what I’d heard, his hands had definitely been involved.
Fergus parked, and I opened the door for the dogs. They ran to Brochan running around him, jumping on him. We piled out of the car, Fergus helping us with our things before he approached Brochan.
“I hear that Tomas O’Connell is in lock up on two counts of attempted murder.”
“Aye.”
“That’s not really your style.”
That comment from Fergus earned my full attention. He knew about Brochan?
He read my expression perfectly. “The whole town knows. He never hid it from us, actually taunted us with it. People keep quiet out of fear, but there was a healthy dose of guilt too. We knew what was happening and we did nothing, our silence helped to create the very monster we feared.”
“He’s not a monster.”
Fergus offered his hand to Brochan. “No, he’s not.”
“He’s a werewolf,” I teased.
Fenella wasn’t so formal; she walked right up to Brochan and hugged him hard and long. She cradled his face. “That’s my beautiful boy.”
She hurried inside to hide the tears. “You’ll stay for dinner, Fergus.”
She didn’t wait for his answer.
Finnegan and Brochan shared a moment. There was love and pride in Finnegan’s gaze before he broke the eye contact and reached for his and Fenella’s bag. Watching them stirred an idea.
“I’ll help you bring in the bags,” Fergus said.
Brochan, the dogs and I remained. “How are you?” I asked.
“I wanted to kill him. I came so close, but I realized I was reacting again. We need to break the cycle, right?”
“I would have understood if…”
He held his hand out; I slipped mine into it. “I know.”
It was hard finding a place to work. I didn’t want the others to know what I was doing. I’d taken one of the bedrooms as a studio, not that Brochan wouldn’t find me. I taped a note on the door to knock and not enter.
I was painting a portrait. I didn’t usually sketch people, but I wanted a portrait of Brochan, Fenella and Finnegan. They were family and since I intended to continue the tradition of family portraits, we needed the first family.
A knock followed by, “Lizzie.”
“One minute. I grabbed the cloth and covered the painting. “Come in.”
Brochan looked at the covered easel as he closed the door. “You have your own secret.”
“Yep.”
He walked toward me as he yanked his shirt from his pants and pulled it over his head. His shoes were next then his jeans. Aches kicked off in all the right places.
“What are you doing?”
He stopped right in front of me and dropped his briefs. “Trying out my new profession as a nude model.”
My clit clenched in a lovely spasm. “I just came.”
His eyes went hot. “You better not have.”
“You should climb on the bed.”
He turned and I had to bite my lip to keep from biting his ass. In that slow, controlled way he had, he moved onto the bed like a big, lazy cat getting ready for a nap. He wasn’t sleeping. Oh hell no.
“How do you want me?”
“That is such an open ended question, Brochan.”
His smile was wicked. “I know.”
I joined him, moving my hands over his body, his chest and shoulders, down to his abs, his thighs. I avoided his cock because once I got started there it was all over. His focus seared me as he watched me play. His voice was rough when he said, “You’re a painter, not a sculptor.”
“Hush, don’t disturb a master at work.” I straddled him and pressed down.
“What’s the master doing now?”
“Determining how big a canvas I need.”
“The biggest fucking one they make.”
“Cocky. But feeling him swelling between my legs, he was right.
He grabbed my shirt and tossed it on the floor. “I don’t usually paint in the nude.”
My bra followed. “Learn.” He flipped me onto my back and smiled as he worked my jeans and panties off.
Brochan’s sated body was pressing me into the mattress, his cock still jerking inside me, my version of heaven. “What do you think about inviting the Stewarts to our home?” he asked.
His head lifted. My heart squeezed that he was ready to meet his mother’s family. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Can I ask why now?”
There was the slightest hesitation before he said, “You were the link for Brianna to her sister. I’m that link to Abigail. I didn’t get it before; I started to that day of the Highland games. Family isn’t one dimensional and when Abigail died it wasn’t just Finlay who lost her.”
“Bent, not broken.”
“We can’t get careless. We have to be vigilante…”
He was thinking of Mac and Ava. “I know.”
“We need to practice shooting some more. You’re getting good, but I want you to keep it up. And it can’t hurt to learn how to use a blade.”
“A knife?”
“You’re not always going to have a gun handy.”
It was important to him and I needed to know how to defend the baby, and myself, so I didn’t argue. “Okay. Is this party with the Stewarts your surprise?”
“No.”
“There’s another one?”
“Yes.”
“And you still won’t tell me?”
He rolled onto his back and my mouth watered seeing all that beautiful naked man knowing he was mine.
“No, but you’re welcome to try.”