Page 51 of Princess of Pride
“Here.” Lachlan sets them in my palm.
I slip them into my mouth, and again, he helps me drink water to swallow them down. “Thanks.”
I take in the private jet. Wes stands by the door with a leather backpack slung over his shoulder, ready to get off. A flight attendant is in front of him, staring toward the cockpit like she’s waiting for something.
Wes’s gaze sweeps over me, a scowl curling his lips. Why does he hate me so much?
“Do you feel well enough to stand?” Lachlan asks. His legs are probably asleep.
I nod and let him help me up, confused about why my hair is down and not in a braid anymore. Rory takes me by the arm to keep me steady as Lachlan rises behind me.
“Where are we?” I mumble to Rory.
“Northern Scotland.” He grins with pride.
I consider how long it took to fly here from New York. Eight or nine hours? I was out for that long?
“What happened to me?” I ask Rory, who’s still helping to keep me steady on my feet while Lachlan stirs behind me.
His gaze leaves mine to focus on Lachlan’s. He can’t answer without permission?
“I deserve to know,” I add.
“Can you walk?” Lachlan asks, his chest brushing my back. His strong hands are on both my arms now that Rory has let go and stepped out from the four seats that face each other.
“Do you want me to take her?” Rory asks Lachlan.
Part of me wants him to. He’s gentler and kinder—Lachlan’s recent actions aside. He might also answer my question, considering the control freak behind me isn’t telling me anything. But another traitorous part of me wants to curl against Lachlan’s heat like a kitten and purr.
“I want Rory,” I say with more strength in my voice than before.
Lachlan’s grip tightens on my arms as he pins me against him. “Wait for us in the car.”
A noise draws my gaze to the opening jet door. Wes exits with the flight attendant, and Rory walks to follow behindthem.
The pilots wait and one of them makes eye contact with Lachlan.
“Go ahead,” he tells them.
They leave, and it’s just me and my domineering husband.
He angles his head to peer over my shoulder and stares down at me—not hard to do when he’s more than half a foot taller. His aqua eyes collide with mine. “Those words will never leave your mouth again. You’re my wife. You can only want me.”
Anger builds in me faster than seems possible after being out of it for so long. My lips press into a hard line. “That wasn’t in the agreement.”
“Did you read any section that said we could have an open marriage?”
I think back to that hour in my dad’s office. The fuzziness lingering in my brain doesn’t make it easy. I also can’t remember any section that stated we could date or have affairs. I just assumed it was implied. Dammit. Why didn’t I insist on adding it? I was overwhelmed at the time. So much has happened and so quickly.
My phone conversation with my mom returns to me, but is gone the minute Lachlan says, “That’s right,Cat-fiadhaich.”
The name of the castle’s stray cat sends annoyance roiling through my veins. “Stop calling me that!”
He ignores me. “I’m the only man available to you. Your wants belong to me. The sooner you except that, the happier we’ll be.”
I scoff. “Happy my ass. I hate you. You won’t even tell me what happened to me.”
His jaw muscles tick. “You want the truth?” he asks like it’s a threat.
