Chisholm Brothers 03 Night Watch Read online

  If anyone understood the value of that, it was the man currently holding her in his arms. And it was his innate strength that gave her the courage to voice her biggest fear. “I want to. But for a long time now, I’ve felt like I owe a lot of people for my success, that I had to somehow repay them for supporting my work so spectacularly. They just want more, and it should be flattering. Itwas flattering. But it was also enormous pressure. I didn’t want to let any of them down.”

  “Ye wrote them a good story, Bree. And they enjoyed it. Ye didn’t demand success, it came to you for work already well done. Ye may owe your publisher another story, but you dinnae owe them or anyone yer soul.”

  “They’d believed in me, and I didn’t want to disappoint.”

  He turned her in his arms, looked steadily into her eyes. “Who did you write that first book for? Not for them. They didn’t exist yet. You wrote it for you. And that’s the only person you should ever write for.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It can be. We’re proof of that, don’t ye think?”

  “I want to believe that. I truly do.”

  “Then take hold of it, and make it be what you want. You get to say. No one else.” He smiled. “Well, save for me, anyway.”

  She didn’t smile in return; instead, she grew more serious. “But what if—”

  “Och, Bree, ye can’t ‘what if’ yer life away.” He framed her face. “Do you want to be here? With me? Write your stories, enjoy your days?”

  “The nights aren’t so bad, either,” she quipped. But he wouldn’t let her dodge. Now he was serious, as serious as she’d ever seen him. “Okay. Yes. Yes, I want to be here. With you. And I’m excited about what I’m writing when I never thought I would be again. Yes, you’re right, I’m finally writing for me. But I am afraid. How petrifying do you think it is to know the whole world is going to judge the book, and me, and quite publicly. I’d think you of all people would understand. For the same reason you don’t share your work. You don’t want to be judged and found wanting.”

  He laughed outright at that.

  “What?”

  “I don’t share my work because in my case, it truly is for me. I honestly dinnae care what others think. But then, it’s not my lifeblood like writing is for you.”

  She had other ideas about that, but one battle at a time. “I’m trying to let that fear go, really I am. I am writing, and I am finding the joy again. But the pressure is there, the expectation. I can’t hide here forever. I will have to face it at some point. When or if the book ever finally hits the stands, you, your friends, your family, everyone in the village, they all might have to, too.”

  “Then they’ll have to decide how to handle it, won’t they? You’re doing it again, living for others. It’s no’ selfish, Bree, to put your needs first. You’re not neglectin’ anyone, you know. It’s no’ your responsibility to oversee how your career affects every living being. It’s sweet and wonderful that you care, and they’ll all know that about you, as I already do. You live here, you write here, and you can be published again here. We’re all adults and we’re all in this together. We’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Most things worth having aren’t. My brothers and I have held on to property that has been in Chisholm hands for centuries. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worthwhile. Because the alternative is untenable.” He framed her face. “That’s how I’m comin’ to feel about you. But you have to feel that about yourself, your work, too. I’ll fight for you, Bree. But you have to learn to fight for yourself, or no one can help ye.”

  She held his gaze, feeling the truth of his words clear down to her soul. “I guess, the more I have, the more I risk losing. And it scares me, to care that much again. I don’t want to risk losing any of this.”

  “All of life is risk. So you do what you must to hang on to what you have, to what you want. It’s all any of us can do. Ye can’t live waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Do you want what we’ve begun here to continue, Bree?”

  “Yes,” she said immediately.

  “I do, too. I want you here. I want you in my life. So we go from there. What comes our way, we deal with when it gets here. You’ve made me as aware as possible of what’s out there, and we’ve done our best to protect ourselves. Beyond that, we live for now, not in fear of then. We live for us. No’ them.” He kissed her, so tenderly it made her heart melt. He pressed his forehead to hers and wove his fingers through her hair. “Trust me, Bree. But more importantly, trust yourself.”

  He was so certain. Of course, he had every right to be. His whole life had been led on his terms. He took care of business and those he loved, but he made no apologies for living in a manner that made him happy and gave him peace. So…what made her happy? What gave her peace? The answer, as it turned out, was rather simple indeed.

  “I feel like I’m meant to be here,” she told him. “With you.”

  Tristan smiled. “Then stay. That’s all you have to do.”

  Simple. So simple. And maybe, just maybe, it really was.

  Epilogue

  It was a beautiful, late-spring afternoon. The sun shone through the stained-glass windows of the abbey, cascading a rainbow of color across the excited, chattering congregation.

  Tristan stood at the head of the aisle, his hands behind his back, palms sweating. The pews of the centuries-old Chisholm family church were packed with smiling, happy faces, all eagerly anticipating the momentous occasion.

  Brodie glanced past brother Reese, his best man, and shot Tristan a grin. “You look like ye’ve had a taste of bad meat, lad. I thought I was the one who was supposed to be nervous.”

  Tristan looked at his brother, the groom, who, from all appearances was relaxed and quite delighted by the impending event. “Why aren’t ye?”

  Just then, the double doors swung wide and Kat Henderson stepped through the church doors on Alastair’s arm. She was an absolutely stunning vision. “That’s why,” Brodie whispered, voice tight, eyes a wee bit glassy. “Because I’m no fool. I know I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

  Tristan did smile at that. “You do have a point.” He felt the hairs lift on his arms as organ music swelled inside the small family abbey, and Kat began her walk down the aisle. His heart picked up speed and he glanced behind him, at Dylan. He was glad their oldest brother had consented to taking part. It had been three years now since Maribel had passed away and he’d come home to Glenbuie. Well past time, they’d all thought, for him to join the land of the living again. They’d all done their best to encourage it, but with little success. But standing in a chapel for a wedding…well, that tied itself to memories that no number of years could erase, and they’d have each understood if he’d begged off. Tristan had taken it as a hopeful sign when he hadn’t.

  Tristan’s gaze shifted across the aisle, to Kat’s two attendants. The maid of honor, Daisy MacDonnell, was a vision her own self, and soon to become Reese’s intended. His brother had confided that he’d only put off asking because he hadn’t wanted to overshadow Brodie and Kat’s joy, along with the rest of Glenbuie, in the planning of their wedding. Daisy’s eyes were misty as she watched Kat’s measured procession toward the altar, and Tristan knew she’d make an equally stunning bride. And that Reese was also a very, very fortunate man.

  Daisy had made a huge impact on the village with her business acumen. The Web site she’d constructed for the distillery had not only increased their sales internationally, but had created quite a stir village-wide with the throngs of sightseers who were now flocking to Glenbuie, both for a tour and taste of the family whisky, and also to enjoy the village itself. She’d woven together a ring of connected Web sites for many of the village shops, all extolling the charm and endearing ambience of the town square. The family would benefit further from her creative genius when Dylan finally opened the bed and breakfast. She’d cross-promoted it on t
he Web ring, and he was already booked for the season.

  Which led his gaze to Kat’s other attendant. Bree. His pulse bumped up a little faster, as it always did when he looked at her. Seven months had passed since she’d stepped—or swerved—into his life, forever changing it. And him.

  “And here I thought the bride was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the room,” Reese whispered in his ear.

  “Oh, she’s stunning enough, she is,” Tristan said, never taking his eyes from Bree.

  “We’re a lot, aren’t we?” he said with a light chuckle, his own gaze clearly on Daisy. “Do ye think the village can take so many Chisholm weddings in such a short period of time?”

  Tristan glanced back at him. “How many?”

  Reese grinned. “Are ye tellin’ me you’re not contemplating dropping down on one knee yourself?”

  His hands shook a little. “I’ll gladly wait my turn.”

  Reese just smiled and shifted back in place. “Perhaps I should wager on that.”

  Tristan wisely said nothing. Bree had finished her book just last week. The entire village had celebrated the joyous occasion. They’d long since adopted their new resident author as one of their own, and considering they’d each done their share to protect her privacy as the media had eventually discovered her whereabouts and descended en masse, they all felt a bit proprietary of both her and the book itself. Bree had happily obliged and throughout the nightlong celebration had made certain they knew, each and every one, what their support meant to her.

  He was so proud of her, so in love with this amazing woman, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from begging her to marry him right then. He hadn’t. Partly out of respect for Reese’s plans, but mostly because the completion of her novel was cause all by itself for a joyous celebration.

  He was willing to wait until the moment was all theirs.

  Standing where he was now, however, the enormity of that moment truly sank in and took hold. Yes, it made his heart pound; yes, it made his palms sweat. He was rarely nervous, but admittedly, the idea of standing before the entire village and watching her walk toward him down that very aisle…

  Bree looked up just then and smiled at him. Just for him. And he thought about all she’d handled, all she’d overcome, the leap of faith she’d taken, both with him and with herself.

  Kat arrived at the altar, and Tristan watched as Alastair gave her hand over to Brodie, who quite eagerly took it in his own, anxious to declare himself to her and begin their new life together.

  His gaze went back to Bree. He wanted that. He wanted to declare his commitment to her. Only not here. He wanted to do it outside, on the land he’d also committed himself to. He wondered what Bree would say about taking their vows high up on their rocky bluff. A small, intimate gathering, with just his brothers, their wives, her parents perhaps, standing in attendance. They could celebrate all night in the village afterward if she wanted to.

  He listened as Brodie and Kat repeated their vows, unable to tear his gaze from Bree’s. And he realized he’d marry her in the middle of a crowded train station if that was what she wanted.

  His hands stopped trembling. His palms stopped sweating. The only thing that mattered was that she say yes. All he had to do was ask her. She chose that moment to wink at him.

  Simple, really.

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  With an indulgent smile, Axel Dean watched the young lady exit the room of suffocating, overbearing people. Damn, she was sweet on the eyes. Tall, nearly as tall as him, with raven black hair and piercing blue eyes and an air of negligence that dared him, calling on his baser instincts, stripping away the façade of civility he tried to don in polite company.

  Her straight hair skimmed her shoulders, darker than his own, blue-black without a single hint of red. It was so silky it looked fluid, moving when she moved, shimmering with highlights from the glow of candles. The white catering shirt and black slacks didn’t do much for her figure, which he guessed to be slim and toned. She didn’t have the lush curves he usually favored, but what she lacked in body she made up for in attitude.

  And attitude, as he well knew, made a huge difference in bed.

  As a waiter passed, Axel plunked his empty glass down onto the tray and headed for the sliding doors. He hated uptight formal affairs that being a doctor often obligated him to attend. That didn’t mean he had to linger. That didn’t mean he had to mingle.

  Especially when more enlivening entertainment waited outside.

  Making certain no one paid him any mind, he slipped through the doors and onto a wide balcony lit by twinkling lights that mirrored the stars in the evening sky. He waited, saying a silent prayer that no one followed him. Every time he attended a gathering, women hit on him. And that’d be fine and dandy by him, given that he adored women, but not within his professional circle.

  He absolutely never, ever dated anyone in his field. Not even anyone related to someone in his field.

  Despite the martial bliss of both his brother and his best friend, he had no intentions of settling down any time soon. That being the case, it wouldn’t be wise to get involved with relatives, friends, or associates of the people he worked with. Walking away could cause a scene, and then the entire situation would get sticky and uncomfortable.

  There were plenty of women who weren’t interested in medicine, like secretaries, lawyers…or caterers.

  He’d been prepared to be bored spitless tonight. Then he’d seen her hustling around the crowded room with robust energy. At first he’d assumed her to be a mere waitress for the catering company, but given how she performed each and every job, from putting out food to collecting empty dishes to directing the others, she might actually be the one in charge. Given her air of command and confidence, he figured her to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Sexy. Mature. Flirtatious.

  His heartbeat sped up, just imagining how the night might end.

  When no one followed, Axel went down the curving wooden stairs to the garden paths behind Elwood’s home. The pompous ass loved to flaunt his money, and why not? He had plenty to flaunt.

  Spring had brought a profusion of blooming flowers to fill the air with heady scents. The chilly evening breeze didn’t faze Axel as he searched the darkness for her. Then he saw a flare of light, realized it was a match, and made his way silently toward her.

  She had her back to him, going on tiptoe to reach the top of an ornate torch anchored to the ground and surrounded by evergreens. Just as the wick caught, Axel said, “Hello.”

  She went perfectly still, poised on tiptoes, arms reaching up to the top of the torch. Slowly, in an oh-so-aware way, she relaxed and turned to face him.

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  He smiled slightly as his gaze traveled over her face, the fall of her dark hair, just noticing the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Her expression was at once innocent, and sexy. A hell of a combination. Jack wasn’t much on centerfold types, pretty was good, but most times, after a couple months, he didn’t like what he found beneath. With Syd, he already knew what lay beneath, besides a wicked sense of humor.

  “Well, don’t just jump to answer. Take your time.”

  “I’m thinking a kiss will never be enough,” he murmured, lowering his head.

  “I’m so wide open to suggestions it’s pathetic.”

  His dark chuckle rumbled in the hallway an instant before he laid his mouth over hers. Something unfamiliar crackled through him. It wasn’t instant, it’d been there, waiting—in that place he’d packed away most of his emotions, the need to link himself with her when he’d been solitary for so long. He kissed her and kissed her and somewhere in between, the barrier broke, poured like water from a shattered dam.

  Sy
dney felt it, a difference in him. Patience turned possessive, as if he was staking claim, that he knew she’d deny him nothing of herself. She wouldn’t. His hands splayed her back, driving up her spine as his warm mouth rolled back and forth over hers. She felt his restraint, his need to crush and take. Her brain went fuzzy, her thoughts centered on only one thing.More. I want more with this man.

  Jack gave. “You know where we’re going.” It wasn’t a question.

  Yet her answer spoke when her tongue slid into his mouth, in her hips rising to mesh with his. Jack nearly roared, letting go a little more. His hands mapped her contours and she moaned, a delicious little sound that nearly tore through his restraint.

  Impatiently, he backed her up against the nearest wall, devouring her mouth as his hands plowed over her body.