Page 56 of Princess of Pride
Although the sun has melted away much of the fog, it feels colder here. A salty wind blows through my long strands, sending them in every direction. I shiver and hug myself—being this close to the ocean makes the temperature chillier. Seagulls squawk in the distance stealing my attention. I don’t know why I’m surprised to hear and see them. We’re literally on the ocean, but when I think of Scotland my brain pictures mountains in the Highlands, Hogwarts Castle, and Loch Ness monsters. Not crashing waves and seagulls. I watch the birds soar above the ocean, envious of how easily they can leave here and fly wherever they want.
For a second, I forget I’m cold until a warm coat settles on my shoulders.
“Thank you.” I spy Lachlan behind me and scowl. “Is this yours?”
His gaze narrows as if he knows I’m a second from throwing the thing to the ground. “Rory’s.”
He’s lying. At least I think he is. However, since I don’t know for certain and I like Rory, I can’t risk ruining the coat. Wes brushes by with his phone pressed to his ear and his leather bag on his shoulder as he races into the castle. I glance around and find Rory helping Connal get luggage from the back of the SUV.
Pasting on my sweetest smile, I shuffle over to him. “Thank you for the jacket.” With my handson his chest for balance, I push onto the tip of my wedges, and whisper in his ear, “I promise to return it once we’re inside.”
Stomping sounds from behind me, drawing closer.
Rory glances over my shoulder and frowns with sympathy.
In an instant, big hands grip my waist, and I’m hoisted off my feet. With a groan, Lachlan hauls me against his hard chest and carries me like a child into the house, my legs dangling.
In my ear, he snarls, “My castle. My wife. My rules.”
Heat shoots straight to my core, flooding it as his hot breath caresses my skin. My body’s reaction to this Neanderthal behavior is surprising. Instead of being enraged, I’m turned on.
Wait. I can’t be turned on. I don’t like him. In fact, I hate him.
To prove that I do, I grumble, “I hate you,” through clenched teeth.
Lachlan swings me down a hallway on the right. My hair hangs over my face in a mess, blocking my view of the castle corridors. His shoes, slapping over hard floors, echo throughout the vast space. Even with my view obscured, I canfeelhow big and cold the hallway is.
We turn again and climb stairs, Lachlan’s steps echoing everywhere. The space seems tighter and curves around and around as we climb. On the second or third floor, he leaves the staircase and stomps down another hallway, one that is carpeted based on his quieter footsteps.
“Put me down,” I order and wiggle to get free, which only sends more hair over my face. Between the outside wind and this, it’ll take me an hour to brush out the knots. Fine hair like mine tangles easier than a pile of necklaces. People think because I have a lot of hair that it’s thick. Theycouldn’t be more wrong.
Now I have another reason to be mad at Lachlan. I doubt he’ll help me comb through this mess.
How long is this hallway? I’m about to tell him to put me down again when he jerks right. Holding me with one hand, he fumbles to open what I’m certain is a door.
The second he puts me down, I plan to run.
13
I’LL LIKE YOU BETTER NAKED
With both hands back on me, he sweeps us inside a quiet room and tracks across another, softer sounding floor. The scent of fresh flowers and sunlight eases me a little. I have no idea what this palatial place looks like inside so my mind has conjured the darkest, scariest, coldest castle I can imagine.
Lachlan stops and leans forward. The front of my legs press against something quilted and soft. A bed?
“I’m going to let you go,” he says, voice stern, breath heated. “Don’t even think about running.”
I huff and puff hair from my face. Instead of dropping me on the mattress like I expect, he turns and sits, pulling me onto his lap.
My arms are still pinned under his. This is a much gentler way to put me down than how he did at the hotel, but I can’t fathom why he didn’t just drop me again.
“What’s your plan?” I ask. “Hold me here until I concede? Tie me to the bed and leave me until I beg to be your slave?”
He chuckles near my ear, his breath blowing strands of my hair. “I don’t need to tie you to anything to make you beg.”
“You wish.”
Securing me to him with one arm, he slides the jacket out from between us, tosses it aside, and brushes my hair from my face.
