Page 90 of Princess of Pride
I didn’t expect to react like this. That attack messed me up more than I thought.
“Put your mac on.”
“My what?”
He points at the raincoat.
“Oh! A mac?” I verify the word as I slide it on.
He grins, but then he’s always grinning. “Now all we have to do is teach you to roll yourRs”
“I can roll myRsjust fine,” I say with what I think is a damn good Scottish accent.
That earns me a wide smile that reminds me of Lachlan. “You are full of surprises, Emery.”
Rory takes me through the distillery where massive barrels called hogshead line the inside. A giant copper vessel is at the far end and another different looking one is surrounded by a metal catwalk with stairs. He introduces me to a few burly male workers. Each explains the process. I can’t understand half of what they’re saying with how thick their accents are. I get to sample the Scotch Whisky, though, and down each shot with a forced smile as the liquor scorches my throat. If I were a scotch drinker, I’m sure I’d love this. It’s not bad, just not my thing. I do, however, have a new appreciation for the scotch making process.
After my sixth shot, I realize the men are looking at me in a funny way. Like I’m a rare necklace out on temporary display.
Rory asks them to stay with me and excuses himself to the office—the house-like building that connects to this part of the warehouse through a door.
I make small talk as best as I can with—what were their names again? Donald, Fenn? Finn? And another with a lot ofRs. Too many for me to understand.
I stumble and right myself before anyone notices. “Is there a place where I can sit down?”
“Certainly,” Donald says.
I follow him to a large office with a window that looks into the distillery and sit on a couch against the far wall. The dark green paint and wood furnishings create a soothing atmosphere.
“Would you like some water?” he asks.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
The door closes, and silence fills the space. Nice.
I rest my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes as the room spins.
Noises stir within the office, but I’m too dizzy to look around. Apparently, I have zero tolerance for Scotch Whisky.
Time passes slowly. I might even drift in and out of sleep.
A woman’s voice has me stirring.
“It’s fine,” she says with an English accent. “You don’t need to explain anything. We talked about this. I’m a big girl.”
“You are. You’re also upset.” Lachlan’s voice jolts me to awareness.
I blink my eyes open.
Kat and my husband stand on the far side of the office, oblivious to me sitting over here.
She’s taller than me by a few inches, which makes her height ideal for him, and her refined appearance matches his style. I always look nice—near perfect when I’m around my family—but I’m stylish and sexy in a way that might seem unrefined to conservative people like her… and him.
Her back is to him while she shuffles through papers on the desk. Is this her office?
He moves to stand behind her and touches her shoulder in an intimate way. “I didn’t plan to bring Emery here. I would have told you if I had out of respect.”
She whirls around as if his touch is too much. “I know. I also knew that no matter how many times we fucked or how incredible it was, the years we shared together would end.”
