Page 118 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Ow,” he groused. “Och, lass, ye begrudge me a piece of chicken?”

“You should’ve ordered your own, laddie.” I retorted while Patricia laughed.

“Dougie told me you married a Bradley.” she said, curiously appraising me.

I nodded and held my left hand up. Patricia’s eyes widened at my bling.

“Matthew Bradley,” she sighed dramatically. “Now that’s a fine example of-”

“He’s an arrogant prick.” Dougie burst out in a dark voice. Patricia and I stared agog at him. What the hell was wrong with Dougie?

“Well he is.” Dougie grumbled.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll thank you not to bad-mouth my husband.”

“Ignore him.” Patricia said, shooting him daggers with her eyes.

“And he’s a fair bit older than ye.” Dougie stressed with a glare in my direction. “I still cannae believe ye married him.”

One of my eyebrows arched. “What’s so hard to believe about that, Dougie? Why don’t you two like each other?”

“Have ye ever been to Scotland, Madison?” Patricia’s accent became stronger when she got flustered it seemed. “Every year our parents host a hunting weekend on our estates in Perthshire-”

“Smug arsehole.” Dougie continued. “He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

I put my cutlery down and made a show of glancing at my expensive watch. “Will you look at the time? I should go.”

“What? No.” Patricia protested immediately as I started gathering up my things.

“Yeah, I need to head back to my studio,” I flashed her a friendlysmile. “It was nice meeting you, Patricia.” I shrugged my coat on before levelling Dougie with a hard stare. Petulant, definitely combative; that was his current state.

“McGregor.” I said it in the same cold tone Matt used whenever addressing him. Callingmyhusband a smug arsehole? Huh. He was one to talk.

Dougie roughly rubbed his lower face while scowling at me. I slung my bag over one shoulder. Dude had an attitude problem for sure. He remained silent. Fine. If he wanted to act in this manner so be it. I wasn’t staying around to witness it. What was it between him and Matt? They were both successful businessmen. Both obscenely wealthy. They both belonged to an elite world where nothing was beyond their reach. They had so much in common yet could barely stand each other.

I checked the level in my pint glass. Halfway, I was still well under the legal limit to get behind the wheel. With a final glance at Dougie, amidst Patricia’s pleas for me to stay; I exhaled in frustration and walked away. Idiotic man. I left the pub, boots stomping over the pavement as I hurried to where I’d parked up.

“Madi, wait!” shouted from a way behind.

My steps quickened as I dodged fellow Londoners going about their daily business.

“Madison.” Much closer now. Was the annoying Scotsman running?

Not far now. I could see the Cayenne, and made a mental note to take it through the car wash later.

“Christ, lassie.” Dougie grabbed my arm and spun me around. His face was flushed and his breathing was slightly elevated. “I’m sorry, alright. I shouldnae have said those things.”

I jerked my arm free and laid into him. “What is your problem? What do you have against Matt? He’s my husband.”

“Nothing,” Dougie professed earnestly as he reached for the sleeve of my coat.

“You know, he didn’t want me socializing with you,” I ranted. “He thinks you’re an ass too, so that’s something you both have in common.”

Dougie’s mouth compressed into a sour line then he asked, “He dinnae wants us to be friends?”

“No.” I confirmed with a scowl. “But I said you were nice, funny,generally a cool person. Maybe I was wrong and Matt was right. You are a bloody Scot.”

We exchanged tense looks for a minute before Dougie began to chuckle under his breath.

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