Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (38 page)

"Time's up," Lake said.

He launched himself at Brandon.

Lake's training kicked in fast. He aimed high at a pressure point on the arm holding the knife and hit it hard. Brandon's arm loosened. Lake punched the son of a bitch in the gut. He grabbed the arm with the knife and felt a blow to his kidney. Lake turned into Brandon and put his weight behind his elbow as it swung up and connected with Brandon's jaw. Brandon's head twisted, but he bounced back fast. The scumbag knew how to fight. Legs apart, he wielded his knife with a smile on his face, making Lake painfully aware that he didn't have any clothes on.

"You're going to regret that," Brandon said.

Lake didn't say anything. Idiots wasted time talking when they should be fighting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirsty's mother drag her to safety. Someone screamed. People fell over one another in their rush to get away. There were too many obstacles in the way. The carol singers were trapped between the market table and Kirsty's shop window. They were huddled as far away from Brandon as they could get. One of the older women was sobbing. Lake knew he had to get Brandon away from the crowd before someone got hurt. Behind him, the street was full of people. The carol singers were on his left and Kirsty was on his right. That left only one option.

"I'm going to gut you like a fish, then deal with your girlfriend." Brandon liked the sound of his own voice. "Bet it galls that I had her first." He sneered in Kirsty's direction. "I got the better version of her. You get the less-than-perfect seconds. I wouldn't go near what's left of her, it isn't worth the trouble."

Those words caused Lake to do something he never did. He lost his temper. With a roar, he rushed at Brandon. He wrapped his hands in the scumbag's shirt, headbutted him and heard the satisfying crack as his nose broke. Then he used all of his strength and pushed the two of them into the only place he knew to be free of innocent bystanders.

With an almighty crash, he launched them through the window and into Kirsty's shop.

Kirsty's mother fell to her knees beside Kirsty.

"Oh, my poor baby," she cooed as she gathered Kirsty into her arms.

For a second she let herself be comforted.

"I need to see, Mum," she told her.

Together they watched in horror as Brandon and Lake fought in her shop. Lingerie was scattered. Fixtures were broken. Brandon punched Lake and the crowd gasped. Lake pounded him in return and there were whoops of joy.

"Go, Lake!" someone shouted and a chant started. "Go, Lake. Go, Lake."

Kirsty stood horrified as she watched every blow. She felt sick as she saw the knife flash through the air. Lake jumped backwards, avoiding the blade. Brandon kicked him and he fell towards the window.

"Look out," a caroller shouted.

A second later Lake and Brandon flew back through the window and into the street. People screamed and scattered before making a circle around the men.

"Go, Lake! Go, Lake!"

The two men circled each other. Brandon still held the knife. There was blood on his face. Lake had blood on his arm, but otherwise seemed fine. Kirsty's heart was in her throat. She thought she was going to die every time Brandon landed a blow. Lake's face showed no emotion at all as he went after Brandon. He was completely relentless. And, of course, the women helped. When Brandon came too close to the edge of the crowd, Betty kicked him hard in the back of the ankle. He spun away, giving Lake enough time to punch him in the side. Brandon stepped back again and Jean whacked him with one of the Scottish flags that were placed around the market. It didn't do much damage, but got a cheer from the crowd. Lake kicked Brandon in the stomach and sent him flying backwards. The crowd parted.

"Go, Lake! Go, Lake!"

"I can't see what's happening," Kirsty wailed as people blocked her view.

Even with the chanting she could hear the thud and smack of raining blows. It made her stomach turn. Had Lake been hurt? Was he okay?

"What's happening?" she shouted.

"Lake's beating your ex-boyfriend to a pulp," someone shouted back.

Another cheer went up.

The fight moved up the high street away from her shop and Kirsty followed. She had to see what was happening. She had to know that Lake was okay.

And then she heard a word that sent chills down her spine.

Fire
.

She spun in the direction of the screams. The carol singers were hysterical. They pointed at her shop. There was wailing. Most terrifying of all, there were flames in the window of the shop.

"Oh no," one of the twins wailed. "The carol singers. Their candles were knocked into the shop. Somebody do something!"

Kirsty watched as the flames engulfed the negligee set, then jumped to the rest of the lingerie, which had been packed into her window display.

"Put that fire out," someone shouted.

Two men grabbed the large drinks cooler from beside the doughnut stall.

"No!" screamed Claire.

It was too late—the men threw the contents of the cooler over the fire. And the flames shot up to the ceiling.

"It was oil," Megan wailed.

The two men stood dumbstruck as the fire ate up the lingerie on the racks. The whole of the shop window was engulfed in luminous orange flames. There were running footsteps behind Kirsty.

"What's happening?" Officer Donaldson demanded.

Megan pointed to the shop and burst into tears.

"Kirsty?" The policeman turned to her.

Kirsty stared at her shop. In flames. Her whole life being eaten up. No. Not her whole life. Nowhere near it. She turned to the policeman.

"Lake is up there." She pointed at the crowd. "Brandon. He has a knife. They're fighting. I can't see them."

She knew tears were falling. They barely registered.

"You need to help Lake," she told Officer Donaldson.

He nodded grimly.

"Fergus," he shouted. "Deal with the fire."

Kirsty's eyes were glued to the flames. It was the one thing she feared. She was losing everything. Her heart stopped dead for a second. And then she turned her back on the shop. She turned and she ran.

She ran towards what really mattered.

She ran to Lake.

Rainne snuggled in closer to Alastair. He pulled her tight to him as she draped her arm over his warm body.

"It sounds like a street party," he said sleepily. "Maybe there's fireworks. I heard that there might be some."

"There's enough fireworks in here for me," Rainne mumbled against him.

The vibrations from his chuckle rumbled through her body, making her smile.

"One year, the guy doing the fireworks bought some really dodgy Chinese ones. The kind that blow off arms and legs. They're illegal now, I think. He sailed out in his wee boat into the loch with the intention of staging a display over the water. The boat was too small and the first rocket was too strong. When it went off, it sent him flying out of the boat—but not before he'd set light to the next one. The whole load went up at the same time. Blew his boat to smithereens. He swam ashore. He was practically blue from the cold and seriously cheesed off about his boat. The town never left him in charge of the fireworks again."

Rainne smiled against his skin before turning her face to kiss his chest. Bliss. Lying in the soft light, listening to Alastair. It was perfect. Slowly, she ran her hand down his stomach, trailing fingers over tightly corded muscles. He caught her wrist before her hand strayed too low. Rainne grumbled and he laughed.

"I'm worn out, lass," he told her. "Give me a minute."

"How is that possible?" Rainne demanded as she propped herself up on an elbow to look into his beautiful brown eyes. "You're in your sexual prime. You're supposed to be able to go non-stop for days."

"Sexual prime?" he said as his eyebrows arched sceptically.

"Yes," Rainne said primly. "I read about it. Men peak around eighteen. So technically, you're past it already." She smiled sweetly. "Maybe that's why you can't keep up."

He flipped her onto her back and pinned her in place.

"You cheeky wee thing," he told her. "And when do women peak, exactly?"

"Thirty-five," she said. "I have years of stamina, desire and ability ahead of me. You, on the other hand, are stuffed. It's all downhill for you from here on in."

Alastair laughed as he shook his head.

"You have no idea what stamina is, Rainbow," he told her in mock seriousness.

"No?" she said with a smile.

"I think I may have to show you," he said before he leaned over to kiss the hollow in her neck, which make her head swim. "I feel I have a point to prove here," he said as he kissed her lips softly. "I think you need to learn that there's nothing at all wrong with my sexual peak."

Rainne giggled as she writhed against him.

"I can feel your sexual peak," she told him. "And I'm not convinced."

"Wretched lass," he said as he captured her mouth with his.

Soon his kisses took Rainne far away. She clung to him, feeling the promise of a future in every touch, and was lost in him.

When Alastair had finished proving his point, Rainne lay wrapped in his arms. The silence and darkness conspired to become a blanket around her. She felt safe from tomorrow in her cocoon with Alastair. But sadly, tomorrow would come. And there were decisions to make.

"I can hear you thinking," Alastair teased. "Good things?"

She could hear the sleep in his voice.

"Absolutely," she lied.

His body tensed at the word.

"Do you want to talk about earlier?" he said softly.

"There's nothing to talk about. I got caught in a tug of war between Lake and my parents."

She tried to shrug it off, but she could still hear every painful word from the family argument as it echoed in her ears. Alastair squeezed her tight.

"They don't deserve you," he said. "Don't let it get to you. You're your own person, Rainbow."

He yawned loudly and Rainne giggled. He wrapped her tight in his arms and she sighed against him.

"This is the way it should be every day," he told her, his words laced with sleep. "Stay here with me, Rainne," he said. "This is where you belong."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, and pressed a kiss to his chest to seal her words.

"I don't mean tonight. I mean forever." His voice was heavy. "You belong to me, Rainbow. We belong together. Move in here. We'll figure things out as we go."

Rainne's heart beat faster. Alastair kissed her forehead softly.

"Let me take care of you, Rainne," he whispered as he fell asleep.

Rainne lay in Alastair's arms listening as his breathing became deep with sleep. Stay with him. It was so easy. A tear ran down her cheek. So easy. She'd gone from doing what her parents wanted to doing what Lake wanted, and now there was Alastair. It would be so easy to do what he wanted. To let him take care of her and to never have to stand up for herself. She wanted it. She knew he loved her. It was written in every look and kiss. There was no denying the boy was perfect. No. Not a boy. An honourable man.

When Rainne was sure that he was sound asleep, she slid out from his embrace and silently pulled on her clothes. On the desk, she found a pen and paper.
I can't, I have to leave. Please understand
, was all she wrote before she put the note on the bed beside him. With one last look at her beautiful Scottish boy, Rainne slipped through the door and down the stairs. She borrowed a coat from the hook beside the door and went out into the night.

There was a glow over central Invertary. The party was in full swing. She turned her back on it and walked down the side streets to the main road out of town. She had her wallet in her pocket and nothing else. Everything she owned was in the flat above Lake's shop. Never her shop. Always Lake's.

She stuck out her thumb when a campervan came up the road. It slowed to a stop beside her. An older couple she'd met in the shop the day before waved out at her.

"What on earth are you doing out here this time of night?" the woman who was driving asked.

"I'm going to Glasgow," she said. "I don't suppose you're heading in that direction?"

The couple shared a look.

"Wouldn't you rather wait until morning and get the bus?"

Rainne wiped a tear from her face.

"I have to leave now," she said.

The woman gave a terse nod.

"Get in the back, love. Donald will make you a cup of tea."

A second later the door opened and Rainne climbed in gratefully.

"We have four daughters," Donald said as he put the kettle on.

His wife appeared beside him. She put a hand on his arm and communicated by telepathy.

"It's your turn to drive," she told him out loud.

"You're right there," he said, and was gone in a shot.

The woman patted Rainne's hand.