Page 31 of Undercover Shadow
“Madainn mhath,”Mrs. MacLeod said with a wink.
“Good morning to you as well.”
“I’ve come with food for your journey.”
I nodded once. “So you’ve heard we’re leaving today.”
“Aye. The wee Cavendish rang.”
I chuckled at her reference to Renegade. I doubted anyone else in Scotland would refer to him as “wee.” I was six feet five, and he had at least two inches on me.
“How does it look out there?” I asked when Mr. MacLeod joined us inside a few minutes later.
“The landing pad is clear,” he responded. “The storm did some damage, but nothing that will interfere with the helicopter being able to land.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled. “It’s what we’re here for.”
“Take care of the lass,” his wife said, patting my arm.
“I will do. I promise.”
“Come now, Grunny. We’ve got work to get to.” Mr. MacLeod held out his arm, and she took it.
“We’ll look forward to your next visit, Mr. MacTaggert.”
The helicopter arrived exactlyat eleven hundred hours, cutting through the Highland mist that still clung to the mountains. I recognized the aircraft as belonging to Con, and the man flying it was Callum, who served as his pilot, chauffeur, and bodyguard. He also had MI6-level security clearance.
Leila had come downstairs a few minutes ago, packed and ready to leave, but looking much the same way she had the day of her brother’s funeral.
We loaded our gear in silence, climbed in, and buckled up. Seconds later, we lifted off, leaving Dunravin behind.
The Scottish Highlands spread beneath us—muted purple heather, silver lochs reflecting the gray sky, and mountains wrapped in clouds. Leila stared out the window, deliberately not looking at me, her reflection showing the exhaustion and hurt she was trying to hide.
An hour later,Glenshadow came into view—my family seat rising from the landscape like something from another era. The stone walls and arched windows of the fifteenth-century monastery my ancestors had claimed and converted had remained mostly unchanged since medieval times. On the otherhand, the interior had been updated on numerous occasions. The estate spread around it, thousands of acres where I raised cattle and tried to forget that my real work involved killing people for the Crown.
“It’s beautiful,” Leila said quietly, surprising me.
“It’s been in my family for three hundred years. The monastery itself is older.”
“A sanctuary turned fortress.”
“Something like that.”
I watched as she took in everything as we descended—approaches, exits, defensive positions, potential infiltration points. Even exhausted, she was professional. Always thinking, analyzing, preparing.
When we touched down on the east lawn, Mrs. Murray, my housekeeper, stood at the main entrance despite not knowing exactly when we’d arrive. The woman had an uncanny ability to sense when I was coming home, even unscheduled. She’d been with my family for forty years and had practically raised me after my mother left.
“Mr. MacTaggert, welcome home,” she muttered in an accent thick with disapproval as she took in our disheveled state.
“Apologies for the lack of notice, Mrs. Murray. This is Miss Nassar. She’ll be staying with us. Could you prepare the Blue Room for an extended stay?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Leila raise a brow.
“Of course.” Mrs. Murray greeted her with surprising warmth. “You’ll be wanting something to eat after your journey, miss. I’ll have food sent up while you settle in.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Leila said, earning another smile from my housekeeper.
