Page 23 of Charlie

"Other than feeling like I may break my neck any second, yes," I chuckle, my gaze fixed on the freckle on the edge of his lip.

He cups my chin, running his thumb along my jawline. "I like you," he whispers, a tentative smile pulling at his lips.

My heart jumps to my throat. "No," I rasp, " I have to leave in a couple of months."

"Too late, Charlie." His thumb pulls at my bottom lip, and I groan as heat pools in my center. "We may as well see where it goes," he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine.

He was right. It was too late. I liked him from the first moment I saw him. I sink into his lips, pushing my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, groaning as he devours me. The song ends far too soon, replaced by an electronic dance beat. We break the kiss, staring at each other, wide-eyed.

Isla grabs my hand a second later and drags me away from him. She commandeers me for the rest of the night, even shooing Lach off to bed when we get home so we can have some girl time. I'm disappointed, but thankful for the time to cool down and get my head on straight.

15

Isla comes barging through my door on the day of the party at an ungodly hour, shooing me into her car, barely giving me time to pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

"How in God's name do you have so much energy this early in the morning?" I grumble, taking the cup of coffee she's pressing into my hands.

Isla grins, shifting gears as we round a curve, "Aren't you excited?" she asks, glancing over at me, her eyes sparkling.

"Not particularly," I say, deadpan.

"Charlie!"

"It's a costume party, Isla. I don't have a costume. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not one to dress up."

"Oh, come on, live a little." She nudges me with her elbow. "You don't even need to worry about the costume. I have something perfect at home. Just relax today, okay? When's the last time you've had a girls' day?"

"Never."

"Well, there ya go. It's not going to hurt you to have your hair, makeup, and nails done... with as much bubbly as we want."

"That sounds marginally better," I say, pretty sure alcohol will be the only thing that gets me through the day. I don't have anything against the girly stuff, it just doesn't come naturally.

Isla and I sit side by side through our appointments, and I take the opportunity to get to know her better. I learn that she's my age, hasn't ever had a serious boyfriend, and bartends at the local pub. She has so many facets – super sweet and bubbly on the surface, but bubbly people don't usually ride motorcycles and bartend. She's fascinating.

We arrive back home hours later, my hair piled on top of my head, tiny ringlets escaping in just the right places. My makeup initially startled me, but every time I glance in a mirror, I fall in love with it a little more. It makes me appear to be half-woman and half-fawn. Shadows and highlights work together to transform my face into something animalistic and ethereal. Butterflies are already fluttering in my stomach. I take a deep breath, mentally making the decision that I'll enjoy myself tonight; this is the first (and probably last) time I'll be going to a costume party. Especially a costume party in a castle. In Scotland. A shiver races down my spine, the suspense thick.

Isla pulls me into her house, insisting we get ready together. The front hall is dark and cozy, a set of imposing walnut stairs to one side and a hallway on the other. I follow her up the stairs, admiring the chandelier that is easily the size of my bedroom in the cottage. "Come on!" Isla urges, ushering me through the door she's holding open. "Wait there." She pushes me down onto a huge four-poster monster of a bed and disappears through a door, coming out a second later with a frothy cream dress in her arms.

"This is gorgeous," I whisper, running my fingers over the folds of fabric.

"Wait until you see it on!" She lays it across the bed and returns to the closet, rummaging around some more, coming comes back with gold slippers, an assortment of gold jewelry, and a hairpiece. "Strip!" she commands, removing the dress from the hanger with gentle hands.

I slip off my jeans and hoodie, tossing them into the chair in the corner of the room.

"Arms up."

I do what she says, the cool silk gliding over my skin and giving me goosebumps. The fabric is gathered on one shoulder, adorned with an intricate gold brooch. The material fits tight to my breasts, then falls in a swirling waterfall to my feet. Isla fastens a gold chain around my waist, the end disappearing into the fabric around my legs.

She slides a carved gold cuff up my arm to encircle my bicep, then several gold bangles onto my opposite wrist. "One last thing," she whispers, her eyes lighting up. She carefully places a band with gold antlers on my head, fiddling with my hair until only the antlers are visible, high and regal on my head. The effect is mesmerizing.

"You're a magician." I'm in awe as I twist and turn in front of a full-length mirror. The dress floats around my ankles, my nude flats disappearing so I look like a barefoot summertime woodland fairy.

"That's all you, baby. Now go downstairs. Lach should be waiting. I'm sure he's already making a drink and grumbling that we're running late. I'll be down in a sec."

I do what she says, freezing mid-step when I see Lachlan in the kitchen. A high-collared black jacket fits perfectly over his broad shoulders, gold swirling over the lapels and around the collar. A matching mask covers his eyes and one side of his face. He looks like he stepped out of a 19th-century novel.

"Fuck, Charlie," Lachlan breathes, his gaze sliding from my antlers to my slippers, stunned.

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