Page 78 of Princess of Pride
Thoughts of my mom flicker in the back of my mind, but I push them aside, refusing to give them the spotlight. Not now.
Lachlan and I reach the second floor. I’m thankful for the stair runner cushioning my steps in these high heels. He releases my bicep and caresses the skin where it’s pink before taking my hand and placing it in the crook of his arm.
A large gallery stretches before us, filled with the kind of paintings you’d expect to see in a castle or a museum.
“Who’s going to be at dinner?” I ask, a bit nervous now that we’re closer.
“Everyone who lives here. Rory and Wes.”
I guess that means Kat doesn’t live here.
“You will sit directly beside me. Not by anyone else. Understand?”
Not by Rory he means. I half expect Wes to leave when he sees me. Is it my American side that he hates or just Lachlan having a wife? He said I’m a business deal, like I can’t or shouldn’t be anything more to Lachlan. Part of me likes that Lachlan is interested in me. Another part of me wants to give him the finger and escape back to some place where I can build my bookstore, drink tea, and reminisce with romance readers.
“Something has you aglow,” Lachlan says watching me. “I’ll want to know what that is too.”
He’s not supposed to be interested in what makes me happy. Men like him don’t care about that.
We pass under tall, stone-covered arches into an elegant dining room of silver and gold with a massive marble fireplace and rows of windows that reveal a dark night. Whoever designed this space had impeccable, if not surprising, taste. The table could easily accommodate twenty people. Everything is set up at one end where two chairs are at the head. Rory sits on one side and Wes on the other. Two bottles of red wine are opened on the table next to a lavish charcuterie board.
“We snacked.” Rory stands in greeting. He gives me a closed-lip sweet smile. “You look lovely, Emery.” His gaze flits over my outfit and body.
Lachlan growls in his throat, which only makes Rory’s smile widen. He is no threat, but he loves to tease his older brother.
Wes also takes me in and seems angered by my appearance, similar to how Lachlan sometimes looks at me. But unlike my husband, there is no desire lurking in Wes’s gaze.
Lachlan shoots him a glare, and he stands. “Emery.” He nods.
An extra place setting is beside Wes. It gives Lachlan pause. He blinks then looks at his friend. “Is someone else dining with us?”
“Tessa,” he says. “She’s working here for the weekend, in case you forgot.”
“Where is she?” Lachlan pulls out a chair for me—the one closest to Rory.
I sit.
Wes says, “She got tired of waiting for dinner to start and left.”
Lachlan pushes me in and sits beside me. “I assumed she’d be staying at the distillery house. It’s more convenient to the office.”
“We”—Wes eyes me— “weren’t expected to be here.” He pours more red wine into his glass. “What I wouldn’t give for a scotch.”
At my confused expression, Rory says, “Scotches are for after dinner. In the cigar room.”
Dad did something similar. I fight to roll my eyes.
Staff begin clearing away the food and preparing to serve us.
“And what do the women do after dinner?” I ask, part out of curiosity and part mocking.
“When there are any, they do whatever they like.” Lachlan pulls my chair closer to his. Under the tablecloth, he rests his hand above my knee. The warmth of his palm penetrates through the thin lace of my dress.
Wes lets out an annoyed sigh, drawing Lachlan’s attention. “If a scotch will put you in a better mood, I’ll have one sent up immediately.”
My glass is filled with wine by an attendant and soup is served. It’s creamy but light with a vegetable and nutty flavor. I have no idea what it is other than delicious.
Wes gets his scotch, and the conversation eventually lightens with the help of Rory. They talk about playing rugby, and I learn how violent this game is. Football but withoutprotection. Lachlan plays it too, although it sounds more like physical combat than a game.
