Page 61 of Princess of Pride
With no sounds coming from inside the bathroom, I open the door. It’s empty. There are three other doors in the large space. One must lead out. There is no sign that Lachlan used so much as a hand towel.
When I glimpse myself in the mirror, my appearance shocks me. My hair sticks out like straw. Mom would kill me. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are bright, despite my new sour mood. An orgasm looks good on me, my disheveled state aside. I open my dress to put on my bra and notice my pink nipples are now red like they’re covered in hickeys. I suppose they are.
Wow. He went to town, which means he liked feasting on me. On my boobs. My worst feature. If he liked them so much, maybe someone else will too. This is nothing I’ve ever entertained, thanks to Pippa.
After what I’ll call a little mishap with Lachlan, I’m not as afraid to share myself with a man. Maybe someone in the future will find my breasts attractive too.
My lips curl with a smile of hope only to drop with the memory of how that future is off the table for me now. Lachlan made it clear I am his and only his. He’s not going to seek sex from anyone other than me.
Not if I can help it.
And I will have to help myself with serious restraint because the way he kisses and pleasures me is hard to resist. Ican fight my desire. It’s only lust. And if I resist Lachlan enough, he’ll get frustrated and give up on trying. That’s how it works. Right?
With my dress open and my chest bare, I take a washcloth and wipe myself clean. My nipples are so sore, even the brush of the cloth hurts. I tuck them into my strapless bra with a wince and fix my dress so I look decent. The material is wrinkled and bunched in some areas, and my shoulder is a bit sore. Lachlan couldn’t have caused all this.
The attack at the airport jumps to the front of my mind, stealing my breath. The memory had faded when I arrived, but with my head clearer now, the ordeal seems even scarier.
Someone drugged and tried to kidnap me. I’ll never use a public bathroom again without a buddy or being afraid.
Thanks for that, Lachlan. I scowl. And for leaving me when I don’t know how to navigate this castle.
I stomp back into the room and snatch the coat he gave me from the bed. Lachlan’s rich scent almost has me tossing it back, but this castle isn’t exactly warm. It would also hide my rumpled dress. With it draped over my shoulders, I exit the room into a hallway with high ceilings. Wood panels with molding and ornamental flourishes cover the walls. Paintings of historic-looking people—ancestors maybe—are on display. Rug runners soften the rich wood floors. I half expected to see stone walls and armored knights with swords. This is cozy compared to its massive size.
The hallway splits in three directions. Which way to go? I turn right in search of stairs. Calling for help is not an option. Lachlan would like that I’m distressed or might even bargain sex favors for his help. Definitely staying quiet.
Eventually, I come to a square spiral staircase framed by thick wood columns and ornately carved paneling. It leads both up and down, with a wide opening in the center revealing everyfloor. The view from the bottom must be impressive, and, from the top, a bit terrifying if you fear heights.
I have no idea which way to go, but I’m betting down will lead to people.
A woman suddenly appears in the hallway I just left. She looks about Lachlan’s age and is pretty and elegant in a Catherine, Princess of Wales, way. She even has brown hair and blue eyes that almost sparkle. A splatter of light freckles adds a touch of sweetness to her sophisticated appearance. For stupid reasons, I’m jealous that she’s beautiful and proportioned in a way I could never be. No ridiculous boobs to stuff into her cream blouse and navy blazer, which are paired with tan, fitted pants, and sleek heels.
She stares at me as if she’s seeing a ghost. After a few shocked blinks, her gaze tracks down my outfit. I want to hide from embarrassment. She’s judging me. It’s there in her eyes, even though nothing else about her expression is readable.
“Hi,” I say to break the weird silence. “I’m Emery.” I put out my hand in greeting.
She studies it as if looking for something, then her gaze shifts to my other hand where it holds the jacket to my shoulder. She zeros in on my wedding ring.
I snatch my hand back and say, “I just got here and I’m a little lost. You wouldn’t happen to know where my room is? Or a concierge?” I add as a joke.
“Emery?” she asks in a gentle voice as if she never raises it. Her features soften with a kind smile that seems a bit forced. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kat.” She offers her hand in greeting now, and we shake. “Forgive my shock, I wasn’t expecting to see youhere.”
She’s obviously as thrown by this as I am. “That makes two of us. I hadn’t planned to come. However, myhusband—” Did I just say that? “—decided otherwise.”
“Husband,” she muses with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It’s hard to believe Lachlan is married.”
She talks about him as if she knows him intimately. She’s in his house, which suggests she does.
It shouldn’t stir jealousy in me. Nothing about Lachlan should. Yet, I can’t keep from asking, “And how do you know him?”
Her lips pucker as if she’s fighting a grin that saysI know him better than you. She clears her throat, and her features relax into what I know now is a very practiced expression. “Lachlan has been a family friend for years. We met back in England when he was at Eton. Seems so long ago.” She pauses as if caught in the memory. “Time slips away so easily.” She blinks and her vision regains focus. “My apologies. You were searching for your bedroom?”
I nod.
“I can help with that. Follow me.”
The part of me that’s desperate to change wants to ask if she has something I can wear, but my pride won’t let me. With her tall, slender figure, I doubt I’d fit into her shirts or dresses anyway.
I follow her up two more sets of stairs and have to stop to catch my breath. Meanwhile she’s fine.
