Page 87 of Princess of Pride
Lorna doesn’t bother to show me the fourth floor, explaining it’s only more bedrooms in addition to mine and Lachlan’s. She also says Lachlan gave me permission to use his mother’s library whenever I want and that tomorrow I can ride if I desire.
My heart melts a little more for him. I hate that he’s being nice to me. I could handle his hot and cold temper and sexual advances because it only made me hate him more. But this behavior makes me like him, and that won’t do.
It doesn’t help that Lorna’s tour includes stories of Lachlan when he visited here as a child. He didn’t come often, having grown up in London. But he stayed here more frequently after the attempted kidnapping when he was seventeen and his mom grew even more paranoid. I told her I knew about it, which had her eyes widening with surprise before she treated me to a fond smile, as if it meant something special that Lachlan confided in me.
According to her tales, Lachlan was a rambunctious child who absorbed everything thrown his way, from sports to books. He was intelligent and always in search of more to do and learn. When his father was killed, he grew withdrawn and focused. His entire existence was about protecting his mother and her legacy. He never harbored ill feelings toward his new stepfather or stepbrother. He adored Rory andgrew fiercely protective of him. The once exuberant boy had become a business-driven man on a mission.
Instead of going to my room, I tell Lorna I’d like to read in the orangery. She insists on bringing me soup and baps—rolls—for lunch, setting it up on a rollaway table near the cushioned wicker sofa I found tucked behind a row of lush shrubs and ferns. Farther back, I spotted a pond with lily pads and a few palm trees. The scent of citrus and foliage takes me back home. I love how this room is dedicated to nature, complete with ivy growing on the stone walls.
Closing my eyes, I pretend I’m home, but it doesn’t bring me the comfort I expected. Instead, I picture roaring seas, breaking waves against rocks, a snow queen bedroom, and a tower library.
I eat my soup and read an eBook on my phone but find my thoughts drifting to Lachlan. I want to know more about him. How to go about that without seeing him though.
I got it! I lie sideways on the wicker sofa with my head on the arm pillow and cross my legs at the ankles, the soles of my boots at the edge of the cushion.
Emery: What other businesses do you own?
A moment later he replies.
Lachlan: Why?
Emery: I want to know.
I want to knowyoubetter.
Lachlan: I thought you were reading.
He’s keeping tabs on me like the control freak he is. I wonder if I could hide from him in this castle. What would he do then?
Emery: Never mind.
I pull up my book.
Lachlan: I’m a partner at 5 businesses. 3 in America. The distillery obviously, and one in London.
Three in America? My lips pull in with anger.
Emery: Sounds like you were shopping around for the best deal. What made you choose little ol’ me? Or was my dad the only man willing to sell you his company?
The words hit me like a wake-up slap to the face. Ding, ding, ding. You win a trip to Scotland, complete with a self-serving husband who settled for the only family that would bite.
I sit up, my boots smacking the cement floor with a thud. Holy crap, I’m right. And to think, for a moment I’d been content with my situation and with him.
Now I’m ready to jump out of my skin. This shouldn’t bother me. I’m not here for a happy marriage or love. I signed my life over for my trust fund. I shoot to my feet. Wait. I have my trust fund at my disposal. I can go and do whatever I want. Sort of. Maybe. If I could escape here, would I have to live in disguise until this feud between the MacReids is over? And why do I feel like fleeing would upset Lachlan’s mother, like she’s a ghost in this castle aware of everything that takes place? I’d upset Lorna too, which turns my stomach with regret. She opened up to me about Lachlan today. I’m certain she wouldn’t have unless she felt I was worthy.
My relationship with Lachlan and this place is becoming so confusing.
“Hello?” A man with a Scottish accent calls out. “Emery?”
Rory? “Back here!”
He rounds the shrubbery, his green eyes bright with an inner glow. He’s such a softer looking version of Lachlan. “I heard you were in here.”
“From Lachlan?” I cross my arms. He sends his brother to smooth things over. Coward.
“From Lorna.” It still could have been Lachlan who reached outto her first.
“Are you busy?”
