Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I’d barely screwed my head on straight before I heard the pitter-patter of little feet. Mirren zoomed to me. “Elle!” She ignored her father, clasping my wrist and tugging me toward the door. “Gavina says it’s reading time. Let’s go.”
“Hold up, kiddo.” I dug in my heels. “I’ve gotta dress first. And eat. Why don’t I meet you and your dad in the dining room in ten minutes? We’ll fuel up, then dive into a book after he goes to the office.” Wait. It was Sunday. “Are you going to the office?” I asked him.
“Since I took two days off, I must work, but I can do what needs to be done from here.”
So he’d be nearby. More of that intoxicating warmth flowed over me.
“Hurry, da.” As Mirren led her father from the room, Callen glanced at me over his shoulder and silently mouthed, “Thank you.” I knew he referred to Mirren and her newfound desire to read.
I smiled at him, at them both, a bit discombobulated. The word family floated through my mind, and the rightness of it made it hard to swallow.
With a sigh, I shut the door. Hold up. Callen was shirtless, and I wouldn’t survive seeing all that muscle and sinew at the table. I whipped off the T-shirt, cracked open the door, and peeked out. “Callen! Put this on before you steal any more of my good sense.” That said, I tossed the shirt in his smiling face as he backtracked.
I sealed myself inside the room and leaned against the block, my knees knocking. What was I going to do?
Family breakfast—check.
Stepmom and daughter waving goodbye to dad as he sealed himself in his home office—check.
Reading time—check.
Now, while Mirren napped and Gavina swam laps in the pool, I collected my phone from the bedroom. Whoa! Twelve missed calls from Isobel, but zero messages.
My stomach twisted. Had she accepted my IOU or not?
I tried to call her back, but she didn’t answer. So, I sent a text.
If you hurt my mom, you can say goodbye to the gold coins I scored.
A minute passed, then another. No response but no matter. I resurrected my original plan to find the mole, which meant having a conversation with Mackenzie.
I hunted the maid, plowing through the castle without the hassle of guards. Although, strange thing. Every male I spotted paled and plastered himself against the wall as if I’d become toxic. I mean, I didn’t smell. I knew because I checked after the third incident.
In a sitting room on the second floor, I found the usual crew, but not the woman I sought. “Where’s Mackenzie?” I asked the housekeeper beating the cushions on a settee.
With a grin and a curtsey, she met my gaze. “She called in sick, ma’am.” The maid chewed on her bottom lip, as if she had more to say.
“Go on,” I encouraged.
“She told us you prefer bluntness.”
“That’s true.”
“May I ask you a question then?” Only after I nodded did she proceed. “Are you stayin’ or plannin’ on abandoning Mr. Bruce again?”
The others murmured their support of the question.
My breath hitched. Did they suspect the soul-switch, now that they’d seen me in action?
“I apologize if I’m bein’ too blunt,” she continued, “but a decade ago, you agreed tae marry Mr. Bruce. A short time later, you ran away with his brother. Mr. Bruce moved on. He had a future. If the wolf king hadn’t kidnapped Miss Sorcha and mailed her back in pieces, he’d be happy today.”
I sank into a chair, my hand fluttering to my throat. Tavish had murdered Mirren’s mother? Disgust crested on a stinging wave. Forget working with him if he still lived. I’d find another way to get the potion.
“So. I ask again,” the maid said. “Are you stayin’ or planning on leaving? Mr. Bruce is a good king, and he deserves a whole heart rather than a broken one.”
“I agree,” I replied, my tone fierce. “And I can assure you, if it’s within my power, I’ll make him happy.”
The other woman stared at me in a way I suspected she rarely dared, but as I’d learned, Callen’s people loved him dearly. The tension in her shoulders finally eased. She must have believed me. And newsflash: I believed myself. I really would do what I could to make Callen Bruce happy. No matter how long or short a time we shared.
My phone alerted me to a new text, and I glanced at the screen. The message had come from someone named Mr. T, according to Isobel’s contact book.
Do you want the potion? I’ve decided on my payment…
My spine snapped straight. Well, well. Speak of the devil. Tavish lived. And he wasn’t worried Callen would discover his messages—or maybe the wolf wanted him to.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Bruce?” the woman asked, concerned.
“Please excuse me,” I said, already on my feet and striding from the room.