Page 106 of Princess of Pride
I wait until they leave to ask, “Have you closed your business with that side of the family?” Shouldn’t it be over by now? On the jet, after my kidnapping, he said it would be over soon.
“There have been some new developments.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” I fork a potato.
His finger tightens on his knife to the point that his hand shakes a little. “If Angus isn’t careful, he’ll end up like his father.”
Something darker emerges in his eyes, a coldness I’ve never seen. I decide to drop the subject, sorry that I’d brought it up.
“What’s the pub like?” I change the topic. “Is there a fiddler, and are people doing the Riverdance?”
His gaze settles on me, his brows drawn as if my question confused him. A few blinks later, and his lips pinch as he fights a smile. “That’s Irish.”
“Oh.” Whoops. No biggie. My plan worked. He’s no longer gripping the knife as though he’s imagining plunging it into Angus’s chest. “Maybe someday you can take me to one.” I bite another small potato, the savory flavor dissolving on my tongue.
His brow arches. “You want to go to a Scottish pub?”
“Yeah. I could try some ale.”
“You could try ale here.”
“It’s not the same.” I taste the lamb. It melts in my mouth. Delicious. “This is my first time to Scotland, and all I know is this castle and thegrounds.”
He frowns.
“What’s the village like?” I ask with excitement. “I suppose I could Google it.”
He sets down his fork and knife and stares at me in wonder. “You really want to go see it?”
I smile sheepishly. “Yeah.”
“Fuck it. We’re going to the pub.” He stands.
Wait—what? “Right now?”
“Yes. Right now. Go change into something more casual. I need to make some arrangements, and then I’ll get you.”
I sit there in shock. “But dinner…?”
“Fuck the dinner,” he says, and I can’t deny this behavior is turning me on. His gaze narrows on me, and his head tilts to the side. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask innocently and stand.
“Look at me with those fuck-me eyes or else you’ll miss experiencing your first Scottish pub.”
I lower my gaze and take his outstretched hand as he escorts me from the table.
To the server outside the room, he says, “Change of plans. Clean up the dinner and thank Chef Henri.”
The man nods.
Lachlan walks me to the formal staircase and kisses me. “You’re making me reckless, but I’m finding it hard to deny you what you want.”
I rub my lips together to keep from smiling too widely. “Thank you.”
He grips my chin. “You can thank me later in our bed.”
He walks away, headed toward his study, but all I can think about is what he said.Ourbed. Not his bed.Ours.
