Page 13 of My Highland Fling
Calm down, Ramsay.
Maybe she’d gone for coffee or breakfast?Yes, that made sense.Ramsay stalked to the en suite.By the time he’d showered, it was apparent she wasn’t coming back.
What the hell?His mate was out there.Her name was Gabrielle, and she’d walked away from him without a backward glance.
Chapter 7
Cinnamon Buns
Gabriellestrolledalongthestreet and paused when the fragrant scent of fresh-baked bread drew her attention.It was late enough that Tilly, her chaperone, was awake and panicking when she couldn’t locate Gabrielle.Maybe if she pretended she’d sneaked from the hotel room to explore, Tilly wouldn’t make a huge deal.Her return with a sweet treat—that’d seal the deal.Grinning, she entered the bakery, slipping into the existing line of two.
As the woman in front reached the counter and Gabrielle advanced by one, four men sprinted past the bakery.Reporters.Paparazzi.Gabrielle stared after them with a frown.She couldn’t be their target, otherwise they would’ve charged into the bakery and snapped embarrassing shots of her purchasing food.Her mother had forbidden her to eat in public after the tabloids had published photos of her devouring ice cream at age ten.The image had graced the covers of the gossip magazines and tabloids for two weeks afterward, the European press dubbing her Princess Porky.
Gabrielle turned away from the street to study the cabinet.What would Tilly enjoy most?Ah, a cinnamon bun.They could eat one each with a strong tea for a morning treat.
“Two cinnamon buns, please,” she said when it was her turn for service.
Outside, more men ran past the bakery.More reporters.More photographers.
“What’s goin’ on outside?”the girl behind the counter asked.
Gabrielle shrugged.“Some sort of conference at the castle, and isn’t that foreign princess here?Maybe someone important has arrived.Who knows?They’re crazy the way they hound celebrities.I wouldn’t want to be in their sights for a million pounds.”
The girl cocked her head, her manner thoughtful as she thrust the buns into a brown paper bag.“One million pounds.That might tempt me, but you’re right.The constant intrusion into privacy would get old fast.That’s five pounds, please.”
Gabrielle fished in her pocket and produced a ten-pound note.“Thank you.These smell amazing.”
“Aye, they’re tasty too.The baker is fantastic with yeasted goods.”
Gabrielle took her change, waved goodbye, and left the bakery.She glanced in the direction the paparazzi had galloped but could see nothing noteworthy.Oh well.Perhaps this would make entry into her hotel easier, requiring less skullduggery.
She spotted not a single tabloid reporter or the nasty photographers when she approached the corner.Excellent.She scooted up the road and into the rear hotel entrance.Coincidence had her almost running down Linda and another worker.
“Sorry!”
Linda winked at her, and Gabrielle grinned in return before rushing off.Aware she had done scant exercise since her arrival in Scotland, she took the stairs to their room.A royal guard stood outside the door.
Uh-oh.That didn’t bode well.
Gabrielle straightened her shoulders and sucked in a quick breath for confidence.She’d tell anyone who questioned her she’d sneaked out earlier this morning.Her face was makeup-free, and she wore casual clothes, so it’d be a breeze to pull off this story.Besides, too bad if they didn’t believe her.She had cinnamon buns to back up her story.
Showtime.Gabrielle strode toward her room door and the guard.Her mood hovered at high.Ramsay had been amazing, but she’d required time to think.She no longer wished to marry Gregor.Sex with Ramsay had shown her the incredible magic between a man and woman, and now she refused to settle for less.Prince Gregor would make her miserable, and she deserved better.
Marriage to Gregor would be a mistake.She was aware of his philandering, and she loathed bringing shame to their royal family.It didn’t matter if he had the money her parents coveted.This arrangement smacked of a sale to the highest bidder.Gabrielle was an adult with feelings, not a possession.
“Princess,” the young guard said, a faint stammer in his voice on recognizing her.He opened the door and stuck his head through.“Princess Gabrielle is here.”
Someone tugged the door open, and the head guard stood there, his face scarlet with temper.“Where have you been?”
“I craved fresh air, and I was hungry.Nothing on the room service menu appealed to me.”
The redness on the head guard’s face intensified.“Did anyone see you?”
“No.I didn’t see a single photographer at the hotel’s front entrance.”
“Not one?”The guard’s brow furrowed.
“Not a one,” she confirmed.“I guess something or someone more interesting came along.”
