Logan Read online

  She translated it twice more and found that it didn’t change one bit.

  Once the quest is started

  There is no turning back

  While the lives of the five will always be safe

  Failure’s penance is the lives of the ones they hold dear.

  “Phoebe, are you all right?” Anice asked.

  She looked up from her desk in surprise. She had been so focused on translating that she hadn’t realized Anice had come into the office.

  “Y-yes. I just need to step away from the desk.”

  She shut the diary and her book where she worked on the translations. She didn’t need Anice to see what she had just worked out. Phoebe knew without a doubt, Anice would tell Callum. Phoebe needed a way to break the news to her husband. Oh, and to Angus. This was not going to be easy.

  She rose but wobbled when the room started to spin.

  “Oy,” Anice said, as she grabbed Phoebe. “Come on over to the sofa here and lay down.”

  “I’m not an invalid.”

  “No, but you are pregnant and you need rest.”

  Anice helped her sit down, then made her lay all the way down. Anice sat on the trunk in front of the sofa. Her brows drew down as her frown turned darker.

  “You cannot get sick. None of us will be able to handle it. And, I don’t want to deal with Callum if you have complications.”

  If she only knew, Anice would go mental. Bloody hell, she was ready to go a little crazy at the moment. What the hell was she going to tell the Clan? They would all freak out a little, and for Angus and Callum…it would be worse. Maggie wasn’t pregnant yet, but both she and Angus had not been shy about their desire for more children.

  “What?” Anice asked.

  Phoebe looked at Anice, who was frowning at her.

  “What, what?” she asked.

  “There was a look on your face. Something that looked bad.”

  Phoebe shook her head, doing her best to look dismissive. “You’re imagining things.”

  Anice crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave her a hard stare. Damn Scot. Phoebe was always surrounded by the whole bloody lot of them, and they all had an opinion. On top of that, they rarely kept those opinions to themselves.

  “No, you definitely had a look.”

  She had to think fast. Anice wasn’t stupid and probably the sharpest one of the bunch. It wasn’t going to be easy to fool the youngest McLennan.

  Phoebe sent an apology to the heavens as she lied. She set her hand on her abdomen and did her best to look sincere.

  “Well, if you must know, I’m worried about the pregnancy. About the baby and what a world will be like for the child of an immortal. But I can’t actually ask my doctor about that.”

  Anice sighed and nodded. Her frown dissolved. “I can understand that. I was worried you’d read something in the diary that made you worry.”

  Ashamed she had to lie, Phoebe shook her head. She hated that, hated lying. From the moment she had realized what the Clan actually was, Callum and she had a strict rule of no lies. Now she was going to have to fib at least for a little while.

  “So, what did you come to see me about?”

  Anice shook her head. “No. You need to rest. It was trivial.”

  “No. It will help take my mind off feeling dizzy and nauseous.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Phoebe nodded.

  “I ran into the new laird today.”

  There was something in Anice’s voice that alerted Phoebe that this wasn’t just a normal meeting.

  “Gavin McWalton?”

  Anice nodded and rose to walk around the room. It was an odd thing for her to do, so Phoebe waited.

  “Yes. It was like he was stalking me.”

  Alarm spread through her. The McWaltons were not to be trusted. The newest laird seem to be somewhat normal and didn’t seem all that interested in the curse. That didn’t mean anything though. Phoebe’s past experience with the last laird had almost gotten her killed.

  “We need to tell Callum,” she said.

  “No.”

  Phoebe blinked at the ferocity in Anice’s voice. “What?”

  Anice sighed. “I don’t want to bother Callum. He has a lot on his mind, and I might have been imagining it.”

  There was something in her tone, something that told her Anice was trying to hide something.

  “Did something happen?”

  Anice flushed and looked away, but not before Phoebe recognized the guilt in Anice’s eyes.

  She took Anice’s hand and stopped her from walking around. With a tug, she got her to sit down again. “What?”

  The youngest cousin sighed. “He was quite attractive.”

  “I’ve seen the pictures. He’s considered a catch, even though his family is in dire straits financially. All the gossip rags like to write about him.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You don’t read them. And if you tell your cousin I do, I will be very mean to you.”

  Anice smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Phoebe squeezed her hand. “Tell me.”

  “Before I knew who he was…well, I was attracted to him.”

  Some of her alarm faded. Guilt. That she could deal with. “Is that it?”

  “You donna understand.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot. Not just yet. The family, they haven’t been kind to us.”

  There was more to it than that, but Phoebe knew that pushing any of the cousins would result in an impasse. It was always best to let them come to her. And she knew that the McWaltons had been particularly bad to the entire family. This was something that was personal

  “All right. But don’t feel guilty. I’ve seen the pictures. He’s what Meg would call a hottie.”

  Anice smiled.

  “Is that a fact?” Callum said from the doorway. “And just who is this hottie?”

  Phoebe chuckled. “None of your business.”

  “If you won’t tell me that, will you tell me why you are laying about?”

  Callum asked the question in a very deceptively calm voice. Since she’d announced her pregnancy, he had been anything but calm. It was

  “I was just a little dizzy.”

  Concern stamped his features, as he walked toward her. Anice rose to give him a place to sit down. He took Phoebe’s hand, as his gaze roved over her as if assuring himself she was all right.

  “I think we should call Dr. Whitaker.”

  Of course he did. He thought she should call her obstetrician when she had the hiccups. “No.”

  His expression grew darker. “You’re sick. We need to call.”

  Lord, this was going the wrong way and fast. “We do not. It is perfectly normal to feel like this. If I were in pain, I would go, but I am not.”

  He continued to frown, but apparently had decided to give up the fight for once. “Anice, could you get her some tea and crackers?”

  Anice looked relieved to head out of the room. “Be right back.”

  Once they were alone Callum said, “What was that about?”

  “I will not be spilling secrets.”

  He grunted. “Women always stick together.”

  “Anice needs a confidant. She hasn’t had one before.”

  Callum looked offended. “She had us.”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I cannot imagine just how smashing that must have been for a teenage girl.”

  Callum made a face. “It was actually horrible for us. Can you imagine those teenage hormones, all that crying? It was a disaster.”

  She bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. Thinking of the three older male cousins and her brother dealing with teen angst was kind of funny.

  “And doona laugh. I never want to deal with that again.”

  “Oh, really? What are you going to do if we have a girl?”

  “We are having a girl.”

  It was his usual response. From the moment she ha
d told him of the pregnancy, he had been adamant that they were having a girl, which had surprised her. She would have thought having a boy to carry on the name was more important. Callum had insisted they were having a girl…end of discussion.

  “And, so what are you going to do about that?”

  “About what?”

  “If we have a girl.”

  “Oh, well, you can deal with all that female teenage rubbish.”

  Her smile faded, as she thought back to the passage. “We shall see about that. Now, what is going on with the rest of the Clan today?”

  Callum smiled and stood. He raised her head and then sat on the sofa and settled her head on his lap. And with the fading afternoon sun streaming through the window, Callum talked about nothing important at all, as he slipped his fingers through her hair.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Logan stepped out of his room and had to fight the urge to turn around. He hated huge parties, and he hated bloody tuxes with a passion.

  Angus was waiting for him with a smile on his face. “Took you long enough, little brother.”

  “I hate doing this.” And he did. For art, he didn’t mind going to galas, but this had another level. It was work, dangerous work. Something he didn’t normally like to do. Not that any of them had clean souls. But for some reason, it all felt wrong.

  “I know you do, but you know we don’t have a choice.”

  If he did have a choice, he definitely would not be spending his first night in Paris at a charity auction. He had all kinds of ideas of great first nights. All of them started with romancing Meg and ended up making love to her for a week. None of that was going to happen, however.

  Bloody hell. He needed to get his head on the task at hand. That one little kiss shouldn’t be interfering with his thoughts. But it was…and what could have happened if she hadn’t stopped him.

  So, why the bloody hell could he not get her out of his mind?

  “You just need to give in, Logan.”

  He looked at his brother, realizing he had been standing there as if in a daze for a few moments. “Speaking from experience?”

  Angus chuckled. “It’s apparent to me there is something between you. Sure, you avoid each other, but she seems so uncomfortable around you. Especially on the plane today.”

  Logan shook his head. “Leave it alone.

  Before Angus could respond, Meg’s voice traveled up the stairs.

  “They are going to case the place without us?”

  “Never need to wonder about what that one is thinking, do you?” Angus asked, humor lacing his voice. “Not so much the siren at the moment.”

  Logan only grunted, as he made his way down the stairs. She was still caring on, complaining that they were stuck in the apartment while the men were getting to go out.

  “You need to get your woman in line,” Angus said.

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “Then I guess you don’t want to know exactly what the prevailing thought is on why you had no reaction to her last night.”

  Logan stopped and turned to face his brother. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  “We know for a fact that you aren’t gay, and you aren’t related to her. Those are the two things that keep men from reacting. That leaves one thing.”

  Lord, Angus was slow sometimes. For over two hundred years he had been dealing with his brother and waiting for him to get to the point. If he could actually kill him, he would.

  “What?” he said from behind clenched teeth.

  “There is something between the two of you.”

  He turned around and started back down the stairs. “Yes, animosity.”

  “There is a thin line between love and hate.”

  And a lot could happen there. Like the night before. “You’ve been spending too much time with women.”

  “Says the man who has had more than any of us.”

  He waited until Angus stepped up beside him, and he slanted his brother a look. “The prevailing thought is that Fletcher is the Lothario of the group of cousins.”

  Angus snorted. “I know for a fact if you kept score, and if Fletcher was ever truthful about the amount of women he’d slept with, you would come out neck and neck with the numbers. I know how many women go all soft for artsy types like you.”

  He could feel heat crawling up his neck. “Forget it. And I don’t know what it was, but it didn’t draw me like it did you.”

  They stepped into the hallway and her voice grew.

  “Do either of those Scots even know what to look for?” Meg said, her voice not as loud as before.

  “They aren’t looking for anything. They are making contact. I thought you agreed to this before.”

  There was silence for a few moments.

  “I just didn’t expect them to go to a party.”

  Logan frowned at her tone. There was something there other than irritation. He opened his mouth, but Angus tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.

  “That’s not it,” Maggie said.

  “Are you sure they will be okay?”

  Maggie laughed. “Of course they will be, you silly witch. They’re immortal.”

  Logan shook his head and walked into the room. They were sitting on the couch, more lounging if he was truthful about it. Both women had changed, but he barely noticed Maggie. Meg was wearing a long flowing red shirt. It wasn’t revealing, but it moved with her, creating an air of sensuality around her. She’d left her hair loose. Honey brown curls dripped over her shoulders.

  It wasn’t anything especially sexy, but the color of the shirt highlighted her milk and honey complexion. Still, for some reason, he could not seem to get his mouth to open. He couldn’t even think of any words other than MINE.

  Angus elbowed him to gain his attention. When Logan looked at him, he wanted to curse. The knowing expression on his brother’s face told him he’d noticed Logan’s preoccupation.

  “And that we will be fine,” Angus said. Both women turned at the sound of his voice. Maggie smiled. Meg looked guilty.

  “Well, gentleman,” Maggie said, “I see you clean up well, as usual.”

  “Of course,” Angus said, as he walked forward.

  Maggie leaned back and offered her lips up for a kiss. As they did, he kept looking at Meg. “Let’s go, brother, we have a man to meet. Oh, and ladies, I left you some goodies in the kitchen for later. Don’t go anywhere.”

  As they walked down the hallway, Logan asked, “Do you think they would go out?”

  “With those two, you never know. But, I warned Maggie earlier that they should be very careful. There is a sense someone is on the other side of this…someone still fighting us. And, who knows what Morin will do to Meg if he finds her out and about.”

  Logan glanced back at the apartment, as Angus unlocked the car.

  “Don’t worry, Logan. Your woman will be here when we return.”

  With that, Logan followed his brother. The sooner they got this over with the better.

  * * * *

  Once Angus and Logan left, Meg sat on her bed and tried to decompress. The fact that they had been ordered to stay in still irritated her. She understood the logic of it. The idea of her traipsing around Paris without knowing what Pierre was doing probably wasn’t a good idea. He was their main competitor for the jewel.

  Still, she didn’t like being ordered to do something. Not by anyone. Even if he she wanted him to order her to do other things.

  “I can hear you,” Maggie said from her doorway. Meg opened her eyes and looked at her friend.

  “I was trying to meditate.”

  “You were thinking it sucks we are stuck in the apartment tonight.”

  She smiled. “I don’t believe I actually thought the word sucks.”

  Maggie sat next to her on the bed and grinned. “I can’t believe we’re in Paris.”

  “Is this your first time?”

  She nodded. “We thought about it for our honeymoon, but we didn
’t want to go that far away. It was my first time away from Jack like that.”

  Meg grinned, thinking about how crazy Maggie had been before she left.

  “So, I’m a little hungry. Want to see what my wonderful husband left for us?” Maggie asked.

  No. She wanted to sit on her bed and pout more, but she knew it would sound stupid if she said that out loud. Instead, she nodded. “Let’s go find out.”

  Meg led the way, as Maggie followed behind her.

  “This place is amazing. It must be hard to stay away.”

  “Now, it is. I miss this city so much. But at first, it wasn’t that hard. Paris has some horrible memories for me.”

  Being arrested, having her lover, the one man she had ever really trusted, turn on her…it had been horrendous. But, it had taught her never to trust again. Especially men.

  They reached the kitchen and she sighed. All was right with the world if there was a well-equipped kitchen.

  “Now, if I know my husband, he made sure there is some good wine for me, and cheese,” Maggie said, elbowing her way around Meg. “And bread and chocolate.”

  Meg sighed. “I could never get you to enjoy a good kitchen.”

  Maggie opened the fridge and giggled. “Smashing.” She pulled out a bottle of very expensive champagne. “My man knows me.”

  She started rummaging through drawers, and Meg shook her head knowing she wouldn’t get to play in her kitchen. Not at the moment at least.

  “Over there,” she said, pointing to the drawer where she kept the wine bottle opener, as she walked to the cupboard where she kept the champagne flutes.

  Maggie found it easily.

  “With your background, I do understand why you don’t like to cook.”

  “What’s that mean?” Maggie asked, as she turned the handle on the opener.

  “You’re Irish. It’s not like you have a lot of things from your homeland’s cuisine.”

  The cork popped out and Meg raced over so Maggie could pour the frothy liquid in.

  “That’s rude.”

  “No one ever said the truth was nice,” she said with a smile. “I will take New England Clam Chowder, fajitas, or peach cobbler over some of the things you have in Ireland any day of the week.”

  Maggie clinked her glass against Meg’s. “We will agree to disagree.”