Page 64 of Forbidden Need

“To know that you’re with me. I couldn’t sleep and just hearing your voice… I swear I’m not one of those crazy, needy women.”

“I know what you are.”

A shriek in the background of the call and boom, a gunshot startled her. The scream that followed pricked her hair on end.

She sighed. “I’m interrupting.”

“It’ll do him good to bleed for a while.”

“I will never come between you and your work. Do what you need to do. Where will you be tomorrow night?”

“The loft.”

“Tomorrow won’t be much fun. That it’s my grandfather’s memorial is one thing, but going alone, while my dad’s haughty and lapping up the sympathy… I’ll do my best not to provoke him. More for Lachlan’s sake than mine.”

“Loss brings a family together or tears them apart.”

“Strat has his own theories on that too.”

A sob behind the screech became a whimper.

“Keep the fucker awake,” Connel snarled at someone. “If he passes out, he misses the show.”

More crying.

“Go work,” she said. “Thank you for picking up.”

He said something in his foreign tongue. She didn’t understand it, but a smile settled on her lips and her eyes closed.

Connel McDade, the medicine that soothed all her ails.

TWENTY-FIVE

HOW MANY MORE hands to shake? Kisses on the cheek and elongated hugs may look good to onlookers, but they didn’t alleviate grief.

The memorial was supposed to be for people who cared about her grandfather. People who cared about the family. So many of them didn’t. Still, she’d done her duty alongside her father and brother greeting everyone who appeared.

Yes, this was the McLeod family, car crash in action. Welcome to the shitshow.

“Shall we go in?” the pastor asked, arms open toward the mourners gathered on the stone stairs.

Her father took the lead on going inside and others followed. Lachlan glanced back to check on her, but with the priest at her side, he continued without her.

She didn’t even want to look up. Didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye. The platitudes were too much. It was no one’s fault. What could anyone say that would make it right? Nothing.

Voyeuristic, that’s what it was. Strangers wanted to gawk at the grieving family. To see the lustful woman who’d gone against her father and bedded with the enemy. She couldn’t think straight. What was the purpose of the day other than to advertise their loss?

The pastor paused, scanning the street. People’s heads turned and whispers broke the air.

What caused the stir?

She had to turn to—a fleet of black town cars came to a stop in front of the cathedral. Who was…?

Almost in unison, people emerged. Dressed all in black with just the occasional fleck of red.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath.

As her lips twitched to a slight smile, a tear slipped free.

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