Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
I shake those thoughts away though, rising and dressing for the day. I tremble, shaking as I look at myself in the large mirror against one of the walls of my quarters.
I’m nervous.
I’m nervous to leave these four walls and face the man who’s castle this is, who’ll be my husband. And soon. I don’t exactly know why I’m so nervous. After all, I’ve known Lachlan for ten years. I lived here even when I was in the throes of my nocturnal fantasies of him, siting and smiling at him across the breakfast table the next day without much more than a tingle in my cheeks.
But somehow, things have changed. Somehow, my ability to compartmentalize the fantasies of Lachlan and the real him has broken apart. Maybe it’s the time spent away from here living in Paris. Or of course it could be that he’s asked, no, told me he’s marrying me. Or maybe it’s that the way he’s looked at me has changed. It’s slight, and he hid it away last night when we spoke, but there was… something there in his eyes. Something I’ve never seen in them before. And it’s something that intrigues me, scandalizes me, and electrifies me all at the same time.
With a stomach gurgling for food and hot tea, I finally take a breath, compose myself, and step out of my quarters. I almost tip-toe down to the great hall, to where Lachlan always takes his breakfast and tea this time of the morning beside the large windows overlooking the western vistas of the castle. But when I enter, I find his attending men waiting alone, nodding courteously at me as I enter.
“Tea and breakfast, m’lady?”
I nod, frowning slightly as my eyes fix on the place where Lachlan usually sits.
“Where’s Lord McDougall?”
The man smiles. “Ah, m’lord decided on a hunting excursion just now, and regrets to send word that he won’t be joining you for breakfast as he has these last few months.”
I chew on my lip, my brow furrowed as I nod again, taking a seat at the breakfast table by the window. I smile when the man brings me steaming tea and a plate of food, but before I can even take a sip or a bite, a noise startles me. I look up quickly, just in time to see the western gates opening and a line of six horses and a handful of dogs go charging out into the countryside. And there, at the front, rising his midnight black destrier, is Lachlan.
A wicked shiver trembles through me, and I swallow thickly as I watch them gallop away.
“Lord McDougall will be returning this evening, for supper. Is there anything else you’ll be needing, m’lady?”
I smile weakly at the man, shaking my head. “No, thank you.”
I sit in silence, finishing my breakfast and my tea, before I go about my day. And quite honestly, these days, a lot do “my day” is, well, finding something to do. With Catriona married and off living with Callum, and with me staying here rather than returning to Paris, I’ve hit a bit of a lull. I read, a lot. Lachlan does keep a huge library full of books. I go for rides. I write letters to my friends. But a lot of the time, I’m mostly just wondering what comes next in my life.
Today, I find myself in the library, pouring over tails of adventure and romance. Despite the chill in the Scottish air, the sun comes out towards the afternoon, so I take a walk outside. Mrs. Lorning, one of the castle gardeners, catches my eye, and I smile as I detour to sit with her. Eventually, I’m on my knees with my skirts pulled up, helping her pull carrots from the soil for dinner later tonight.
But the whole time, there’s only one thing on my mind, and it’s not vegetables.
It’s Lachlan, of course. Lachlan and wondering what his proposal—though there’s nothing “proposed” about it—means. But then, I know deep down that my own thoughts on it are just silliness. After all, Lachlan is just being a good ruler. He’s doing this because it’s what’s right for his lands, and his people. Not to appease some silly little fantasy of mine.
At lunch, Mrs. Lorning laughs and tells me I’ve helped enough, shooing me inside and raising a brow at my muddy knees and cold fingers.
“Go get washed up, or Lord McDougall will have my hide.”
I roll my eyes. Despite being gruff, Lachlan is positively adored by the people who live on his lands and within his castle walls. Even more so after he kicked Darcy out. But still, I am chilled, and after grabbing a quick cup of tea, I head up the stairs towards the living quarters to wash up.
But when I get to the split in the hall—the left taking me towards my quarters, and the right taking me up another flight of stairs to Lachlan’s, I pause. My own quarters obviously have its own bath and commode, but Lachlan’s…