Logan (2 page)

As the boy continued to stare at him, Logan realized he expected help. “Were you scared?”
 

Another hesitation. “A bit. I don’t like admitting that, but I do get scared sometimes.” Jack whispered the words, as if he were ashamed of it. Logan might be an old man, but he still remembered the shame felt because of fear.
 

He knew he had to be delicate—and that was a lot to ask a man who hadn’t slept well. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting that, Jack. Everyone is afraid at some point.”
 

“Even you?”
 

He nodded.
 

“Even Callum?”
 

Apparently Callum ranked higher in Jack’s standards of heroes. Since his cousin had almost died at Culloden, that was easy to accept.
 

“Even stodgy old Callum.”
 

Jack sighed. His entire body relaxed and relief moved over his expressive face. “Good.”
 

Then Jack said nothing else. He did continue to stare at Logan with that perceptive gaze. It was enough to make Logan nervous.
 

“Was there anything else?”
 

Jack shook his head. “Are you hungry?”
 

He chuckled and realized the boy just wanted some company. Logan could handle that because it would include coffee . “Always. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”
 

Jack continued staring at him, and Logan realized he wasn’t going to leave. There was never any rest for the wicked. He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
 

“Why don’t you wear clothes to bed, Sir Logan?”
 

Logan grunted. “I doona like the feeling.”
 

“Oh. Okay. I guess you all sleep naked. Angus never seems to have any clothes on when he’s in his bedroom.”
 

“I just bet,” Logan murmured, as he walked to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”
 

Jack nodded, and looked at the chair beside the bed.
 

“Go on, make yourself at home, Jack.”
 

Jack smiled as Logan stepped into the bathroom. The boy was still timid around all of them, but he was getting better. Time spent in the company of four grown men gave him
some more confidence, as did his mother regaining her powers. It was a nice to see him gaining his own confidence.
 

And hopefully, that would help them with what was about to come—whatever that was.
 

He shook away his worries and decided to get on with the day. Starting out this early would allow him free time to draw in the afternoon. Or nap. Napping was always good.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Meghan drew in a deep breath and sighed with appreciation. One of the many things she loved about living with the McLennans was the food. They always ate well and, for a girl who had a healthy appetite, it was a beautiful thing.
 

With all the newly married people in the house, she often had the room to herself for at least thirty minutes. It gave her time to reflect on the day and gear up for the day. When dealing with five immortal Scots, four of them very sexy, overbearing men, she needed to prepare. Especially when dealing with one in particular. It was the same one who had teased her senses and invaded her thoughts during the day. For a witch who had worked con jobs from the cradle, she rarely had this problem. Having a man interfere with her concentration wasn’t a good thing.
 

Meg brushed away those thoughts and filled her plate with sausages, eggs, scones and her favorite, Devonshire cream. Since returning to the UK, she’d indulged in her favorite treat a bit too often, but Meghan didn’t care. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was to live in the moment.
 

She heard the sound of feet down the hall, and knew her morning solitude was about to be broken. When Jack slid into the room laughing, she smiled in reaction, until she saw his companion.
 

Logan
.
 

The man brought about too many feelings to count. Dealing with him on half a cup of coffee was just not fair. And of course, he looked amazing. All that messy hair, his bedroom eyes, and the stubble he hadn’t shaved away…how was a woman supposed to ignore all that beauty?
 

“Morning, Miss Meghan. How are you this morning?” Jack asked, drawing her attention away from Logan.
 

“I’m very fine indeed, Sir Jack.”
 

He giggled like he always did. “I am not a sir.”
 

She widened her eyes. “But you are the son of Angus, are you not?”
 

His smile grew. “I am.”
 

She looked up at Logan. “Good morning.”
 

“That’s your opinion,” he mumbled, as he headed for the coffee. It was out of character for the artist. He’d always seemed to be in a good mood, until the last few days.   
 

“Did you wake Logan?” she asked Jack.
 

“Yes, but I needed to wake him. I had a dream,” he said, sounding more like the solemn boy Maggie had told her about. She had not seen much of that boy since she had moved in, but every now and then, he would look too serious for such a young boy.
 

“Oh, don’t you know not to let dreams bother you?” she asked.
 

“Some of Jack’s dreams are premonitions,” Logan said, as he placed his coffee at the head of the table. Where she liked to sit.
Bugger
.
 

“I understand. But, if they are premonitions, there is nothing we can do about it now. Worrying about it will not stop what is destined to happen.” Meg knew that better than anyone, and had paid a steep price. She returned her attention to Jack. “So, Sir Jack, what would you like for breakfast?”
 

“I can get my own,” he announced.
 

Logan, for his part, had prowled over to the sideboard to get himself some food. As she had thought before, he hadn’t been what she would have pegged as a stereotypical artist. He had the look. But, his temperament had been one of…well, a normal, every day person. Artists, and she had dealt with more than one in her day, tended to be moody and…well, more trouble than they were worth.  Meg didn’t like moody men. She liked them to be happy and somewhat needy, because that’s how she had earned her living for so long.
 

Still, it was hard to ignore the way he moved not to mention those long, artist’s fingers. She could just imagine what he could do with those talented fingers. Lord, to feel them dance over her flesh—
 

Jack made a sound, and he was looking at her strangely. Oh, bugger. The boy could definitely read thoughts from time to time. She was usually better at keeping them hidden, but since she’d been staying with the McLennans she’d been lax in her defenses.
 

“What else is on your mind this morning, Jack?” she asked, as she sipped on her coffee.
 

He shrugged as he sat down at the table, and started to eat his bacon. He chewed for a few seconds, then said, “Did you know that Logan sleeps without any clothes on?”
 

She choked, spewing a bit of her coffee. Retrieving a napkin, she dabbed at her mouth. “Does he indeed?”
 

“Spilling all my secrets, Jack?” Logan asked.
 

“I didn’t know it was a secret. You have to tell me. Besides, Miss Meghan was thinking about—”
 

“Never mind about that, Jack. Get to eating,” she ordered, hoping Logan didn’t notice her blush.
 

Jack smiled and dug into his breakfast. He was small for his age, but the boy had a massive appetite, one she could understand. His color had improved as had his attitude. She knew it was this family that helped. It was hard to deny that there was something very special about the McLennans—beyond being immortals.
 

“So, you tend to sleep later, Logan?” she asked.
 

“No. I’ve been hit with the same affliction as Master Jack here.”
 

“Dreams?” she asked.
 

He nodded, his cool green gaze locked on hers. Suddenly, her pulse scrambled and she found it hard to swallow. Her entire body felt as if it had been set ablaze.
 

“It’s because you are the next of the five. It’s your turn,” Jack said, breaking the spell.
 

She looked at the boy again and studied him. He continued to eat as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.
One of the five
. She had heard the term, understood sort of what they were talking about, but she had tried not to be too nosey. If it was one thing Meg understood it was a person had a right to their secrets. She assumed they would tell her when she needed to know.
 

Logan said nothing, as he continued to eat, but he did nod. Meg hated silences, hated the long pauses that others seemed to have no trouble dealing with. It always seemed like bad things followed those long silences. While she always felt safe, there was always the long pauses in conversations that made her a bit uncomfortable.
 

“Good morning, everyone,” Angus said, as he walked into the room. “I’m famished.”
 

“I just bet you are,” Logan said with a smile.
 

“Where’s Mum?” Jack asked as he drank his milk.
 

“She’s taking a shower,” Angus said, as he leaned down and whispered in Jack’s ear. The boy laughed. He tussled the boy’s hair then looked at Meg. “Sorry if he woke you up, Meg.”
 

She shook her head. “No problem, but he didn’t wake me up. He woke Logan up.”
 

Logan grunted, as he continued to eat. Really, the man was in a mood today.
 

“I’ve always been an early riser,” she said, as Angus grabbed something to eat. “It’s part of the job.”
 

Logan eyed her. “Part of the job? So, grifting forced you to get up early?”
 

She smiled, completely at ease with her checkered past. Unless she was on the job, she never tried to hide who she was. “You never know if you need to get out of town, so it’s just best you get up early. Or, so said my father.”
 

In fact, it was one of the last things he ever said to her before he was murdered.
 

She pushed those thoughts away and smiled at Jack. He was studying her as if, once again, he was reading her thoughts. Reaching over, he patted her hand. Her heart turned over at the simple gesture. She smiled at him.
 

“So, Jack, what’s on your schedule today?”
 

Logan prowled his office, unable to sit in any spot for more than a few minutes. Even sketching or painting did not help. He had days like this, but not that often. Most of the time, he would take a mental day, but lately, he’d tried to stay close to home.
 

It was hard to explain to anyone just what was wrong with him at the moment—even to himself.
 

“You’re going to wear out the rug,” Fletcher said.
 

Logan frowned at his cousin. Fletcher had appeared ten minutes earlier and had stretched out on the couch in Logan’s office. They got along most of the time.  Logan was pretty sure Fletcher had picked up on his mood and wanted to irritate him further. Logan tossed his cousin what he hoped was a nasty look.
 

“Maybe I want to wear a hole in the rug.” He sounded like a prat but he didn’t give a damn.
 

It wasn’t a particularly mature thing to say, but it kept him from saying what he really felt. Telling anyone, especially Fletcher—who, even after over two centuries, was still a walking hormone—he had an itch he needed scratched, was a mistake. The fact that a Siren Witch was the only one who could relieve that pain worried him more than anything.
 

“Why don’t you just bed the witch and get it over with?”
 

Logan stopped and stared at him. “What?”
 

“It’s obvious to me that you want Meg. Bed her, get her out of your system.”
 

“What a bloody brilliant suggestion, Fletch. Because that will work with the woman under our roof.”
 

“You’ve never been such a stickler for the rules.”
 

He sighed and sat down in his chair. “No, but then, I have a feeling she has something to do with the quest.”
 

Fletcher looked up from his tablet. “Why?”
 

“Everyone who has come into our lives in the last year has had something to do with it. First Phoebe, then Maggie, now Meghan. Not sure what it is, but there has to be a reason she’s hanging around.”
 

“Of course. Because living in a mansion in Scotland is what every woman hates. Just the amount of food she eats could send a man to the poor house.”
 

He looked at his cousin, realizing he wasn’t joking. “Oh, Fletcher, I thought you were smarter than that. She’s loaded. She doesn’t need to be with us.”
 

“Really?”
 

Fletcher did look a little surprised—which was out of character for him. Most people would look at Fletcher and take him for a man who didn’t have a care in the world. He was known to flirt with too many women and he was definitely a charmer. But there was a serious side to Fletcher. He handled their security and could hunt down just about any criminal if needed. All of them were smart, but Fletcher and Angus always competed to have the highest IQ
 

“You mean you didn’t check her out?” Logan asked.
 

He shook his head. “No.”
 

“Why not?”
 

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to find something that would force us to kick her out of the house. Maggie loves her like a sister.”