Page 88 of Princess of Pride
That piques my interest. “Why?”
“I need to check on something at the distillery and thought you might like to see it.”
“Right now?”
He gives me half a grin. “Yeah.”
“Lachlan won’t care?”
He inches closer and lowers his voice. “It’ll be our secret.”
Excitement rushes my insides. “How?” I whisper.
“He’s busy with a meeting all afternoon. If we’re back before five, he’ll never know.”
Is this for real? “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
He laughs. “I’ve gotten into worse, trust me. And Lachlan is more bark than bite.”
“For you maybe.” I recall the way he feasted on my breasts to the point that my skin was marked.
“What do you say?” The mischievous glint in his eyes is contagious.
“What about the food?” I gesture to the table. “If Lorna comes to get it, she’ll wonder where I went.”
“I’ll have another staff member take it. She won’t know, but we have to go quickly.” He tips his head to the side where there’s a door.
My lips rub together with my nerves, then I blurt, “Okay.”
“Shhh.” Rory smiles and takes my hand. He guides me out the door.
Salty wind lashes my cheeks and sends my long hair in all directions. I catch it and hold the strands in one hand. No rain falls, but the overcast sky and bite of the breeze causes me to shiver.
We round the stone landing that encircles the castle and sprint up the side toward the front.
Rory opens the door to a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. “Get in, quick.”
I do and am thankful for the stillness. Two raincoats lie across the center console.
Rory climbs in, closing the door and sealing us in from the crazy weather.
“This is for you.” He hands me one of the jackets and starts the engine.
“Thanks.” Was this planned or do they always keep two in the car?
I stare up at the castle as we drive away, turning my neck like an owl, watching for Lachlan to run out and chase after us.
Soon we’re too far away for me to see the door to the castle. “This is crazy,” I murmur more so to myself, even as a smile breaks across my face.
“A little crazy never hurt anyone.” Rory’s accent is cheery and kind like him, versus Lachlan’s brooding, sexy English brogue.
The tree-lined entrance disappears when we turn left and cut down a long, deserted road with low hills of green on either side as far as the eye can see. Rain sprinkles from the overcast sky, speckling the front windshield.
“Do you want the heat on?” he asks and turns the music up a little. Something Scottish but alternative plays.
“I’m good.” I pull the jacket onto my lap. “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” Me more than him.
“One of Lachlan’s business partners called with an emergency. He’ll be busy for a while.”
