Chapter 21— The MacGregors I

Ivette was jarred awake by the incessant screeching of a child. She thought she might have been dreaming but something pulled painfully at her hair and her eyes snapped open to see startling eyes of amber, peering up at her with wonder.

The child blinked. Ivette blinked too. The child blinked again, twice. Ivette frowned, and as though, that single motion had broken a spell she hadn’t known existed, the child's small mouth widened so much and a horrendous screech escaped it. “Uncle Cian brought home lassie!”

Ivette winced at the high-pitched scream that followed a giggle that threatened to rip her eardrums, but it was nothing compared to Cian’s low growl as he lifted the child into his arms and untangled his fingers from Ivette’s hair, eying him with suspicion. “Niall, what did I tell you about screaming at my visitors?”

“You never bring home lasses, Uncle!”

“How do you even know that?” Cian scowled, dropping the child when another seemed to pop out from another corner, racing for him with outstretched arms, wailing. “Uncle!”

“Oh, for the love of Christ—” Cian mumbled under his breath and Ivette watched the exchange with pure fascination. She had never seen the businessman so ruffled and uncomfortable. His face was tight with embarrassment and if she didn’t know better she would think he didn’t want to be here.

But his eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, and his hands curved protectively around the child, even if she kept tugging and pulling at his hair and skin like her main aim was to pull them off him. His lips tilted in a rare smile and his expression was calm and relaxed like one would be when they were home.

He was home.

Ivette got out of the car, stretching her legs and peering around what she supposed was Cian’s home. She’d been asleep before they touched down at Inverness and she could barely recall staggering to Cian’s car, half asleep. She’d missed the entire journey, and now, she stood in the yard of what looked to be a mansion, built to resemble a medieval castle—or maybe it was a medieval castle. Ivette couldn’t be sure. It stood strong, tall and elegant and there was something about it that appealed to her.

The construction was both complicated and beautifully cut. It seemed like a drawing from a book that had come alive. It was imposing and magnificent, and the best part? It sat on a hilltop, and Ivette could see the loch from where she stood, and from the specks that were the tourists milling down and around the famous loch, she could guess which it was. The Loch Ness.

It took all of her self-control not to run off, exploring the castle and the controlled forests that surrounded it. How had she never traveled this far? How had it never crossed her mind to take a vacation in a place as beautiful as this? It was serene, calm—and the air was fresh, pure, void of soot of all kinds.

Her eyes were drawn back to the castle when the sound of clicking heels filled the air. A woman approached from the doors of the castle, and hot on her heels was a man and woman dressed formally in suits.

“Finlay, get the laird’s luggage. You’ve dallied with Drew for long enough,” her voice carried well toward Ivette and though, her accent wasn’t as thick as Cian’s, it was hard not to note the brogue.

Ivette observed the woman as she drew nearer and. . .She was strikingly beautiful, with the same regal air Cian had about him. That air of confidence and elegance that commanded attention. She had long, jet-black hair—much like Cian’s—that cascaded down her back in loose curls, and her eyes were a deep amber color that glimmered in the light of the morning sun.

She was the mother of the children who was currently fighting over who would get in Cian’s car first. The resemblance was uncanny.

She was in a green dress that was fashioned unlike anything Ivette had seen and Ivette made a silent vow to get her stylist’s card before she left. It flowed around her like a river and it complimented her olive complexion greatly. It was simple, yet intricate. A cut from these modern times and from eons ago. Ivette didn’t know what to call it, but she loved it.

When she stopped in front of Cian, a smile bloomed across her red lips, stretching until it reached her eyes. “Here I was thinking you wouldn’t be home for another year. You’re back early.”

Cian pulled her into his arms, and Ivette put two and two together. Either she was his sister or cousin. “You doona sound happy to see me, Fio,” he murmured against her hair, and the woman laughed heartily, slapping at Cian’s back.

Her amber eyes drifted over to where Ivette stood, feeling awkward and almost forgotten and they widened slightly. She withdrew from the hug and stared from Cian to Ivette. “You brought a woman home.”

Ivette was beginning to wonder why that was the highlight of their discussion. Even the male kid had been screaming about it like it was a strange thing. Surely, Cian had brought other women to this castle to impress them, like he did her—because she was thoroughly impressed, and little impressed her.

Cian turned sharply like he had forgotten she was even there and something stung deep within her when he said, “She’s a. . .ah. . .she’s my friend. Ivy.”

Friend? Right. What else was he supposed to introduce her as? The woman who had escaped from her own wedding and was utterly homeless until she had the nerve to return home? Friend was certainly a better way to put it, and she didn’t object when the woman stretched a hand forward. “I am Fiona, the douche’s cousin.”

Ivette’s lips twitched. She already liked the woman—Fiona. She took her arm, only to be pulled forward into a warm hug that was both welcoming and nerve-calming. “Welcome home, Ivy.”

Ivette’s eyes stung. Never had she heard those words, not even from her mother. It went straight to the darkest, coldest parts of her and instantly warmed it up. Her arms lifted and she hugged the woman back, breathing in her scent of cake barter and flavoring. She must have come straight from the kitchen.

She pulled back shortly when it dawned on her that she was holding a stranger. She found Cian’s gaze already on her and his eyes were unreadable. He looked away and reached for the children, herding them towards the mansion. She watched him until he disappeared behind the double doors left open for him.

“You like him?”

“No,” Ivette said quickly without looking at Fiona, and she began to walk forward. . .not that she had a bloody idea where she was headed.

“How did you two meet?” Fiona said again, and Ivette held in a yelp when she noticed the woman beside her, smiling cattily at her. Why so strange?

“A club,” Ivette answered, veering toward the door she’d seen Cian go through. What a terrible host he was. Why the hell would he leave her outside, by herself, and with his strange cousin? What if she got lost and fell into the lake? Why would he care anyway? A few minutes in and he’d already begun neglecting her. Men.

“What happened at the club?”

Ivette reared back and stared at the woman, unable to keep the blush that was currently creeping up her neck at bay. “What do you think?”

Fiona smiled, amusement and mischief lighting up her stunning eyes. God, she had Cian’s expressions too. Save for her eyes, her more delicate facial structure and curvy figure, she could very well be his twin. It was damn uncomfortable.

“Answer Dada just like that when he asks you.”

“Who’s Dada?”

“Our grandfather. You’ll meet him anytime now.”

Ivette said nothing, allowing Fiona to lead the way. She didn’t know what to expect next. Was she meeting his entire family? What would happen after that? Would she stay here, and for how long? She couldn’t hide from her father forever. She needed to go back before matters escalated, before the whole world realized she had run away, and not been abducted.

What would happen then? Would the proposal for the merger get revoked? All that she had worked to build would fall in a blink of an eye. Goosebumps flooded her skin at the thought. Maybe she should have been a good daughter and married Aaron.

Lost in her thoughts, she walked into a hard wall, rebounding and nearly falling on her rump.

“Are you alright, lass?”

Ivette glanced up. So the wall hadn’t been a wall. She was staring at a man that looked exactly like Fiona. Amber eyes, black hair, slightly older, bearded chin—why did they all look like that? Beautiful and striking? Wasn’t there a single family member who looked. . .normal? How could they all be hot? It was unfair.

The man stretched a hand to help her up and she noted the wedding band around his finger. Oh. Good. He was married. Good for all the women out there, because he was simply jaw-dropping.

“Stop that, brother. Camille will throttle you,” Fiona said dryly, shoving him out of the way playfully. “Shouldna she be here already?” She added, pulling Ivette up with surprising strength.

The man glanced at his watch. “In a few.” His eyes skimmed over Ivette’s form and it was simple and observant. Nothing like Cian’s hot gaze. “I thought I heard wrong when Niall said Cian brought a lass home.”

There it was again. The topic of the day. She could almost see it in the headlines. Cian brings a lass home.

“Grandfather will be elated,” Fiona said, a wry smile teasing her lips.

The man laughed as he walked away, shaking his head. “I wouldna count on that.”

The interior was bigger and more intricately designed than the outside. There was too much detail to take in at once and Ivette admired the tasteful designs and furniture that she had no doubt had existed for quite some time. There were maids going on about their daily jobs, cleaning and polishing the furniture, mopping the floors, hanging from tall ladders and dusting the ceilings—a scene out of a movie, Ivette thought to herself as she followed Fiona up the stairs.

“There are a lot of rooms, but I suspect you will be more comfortable on Cian’s floor and wing.”

Ivette had a lot of answers to that but she said nothing. She was the guest. . .and a freeloader for now. Who was she to make demands? However, if she could, she would be asked to be placed on the opposite end of wherever Cian was. She didn’t understand or trust herself around the man. Better safe from her treacherous thoughts and body, than sorry.

“You all live here?”

Fiona shook her head, adjusting a miniature statue to its right position. “Nay. This is our clan home. All MacGregors were born and raised from wee bairn to adults here. It is home to us all. However, we grow and have families, and only the laird may remain back here—if he chooses to. Grandfather is the Head now, but Cian will be soon—if he ever agrees to get married to a lass.”

Somehow, that ended up confusing Ivette even more, and Fiona must have seen it in her expression because she smiled fondly and explained, “This,” Fiona said, gesturing to the mansion. “Is Cian’s. Or will be when he marries and accepts to carry on from where his father left off. We only visit during special occasions and fixed dates. It is family tradition, never to forget our roots. Our home.”

Ivette nodded, looking around and noting the lack of portraits or family pictures. For a clan house. . .or whatever they named it as, its walls were bare. “And seeing as you are all here, this must be a special date then.”

Fiona nodded, and grief darkened her eyes. “It is the death anniversary of Cian’s parents today.”