Page 15 of My Highland Fling
When he met the receptionist’s gaze, rabid curiosity blazed at him.Dozens of questions filled her big eyes.He clenched his jaw.“My account.I’d like to pay it now.”
“But…”
“Don’t make me call management,” he ground out.Ramsay was positive hotel employees shouldn’t behave in this prying manner, nor should she discuss him or Gabrielle with a third party.
Ramsay paid his account and tucked his receipt into his pocket in silence.That done, he strode for the door.
The sight that greeted him had him grinding to a halt.He stared at the men holding cameras and those gripping fluffy microphones.Silence bloomed as he stepped forward, then pandemonium reigned.The men fired questions at him like missiles.Camera flashes dazzled his vision.
Ramsay held up his right hand, and the crowd grew silent.“What the hell?I’m a chef and came here to discuss a job with management.”
“Why are you leaving via the front door?”a reporter shouted, brighter and faster than the rest.
“The head chef told me to since a delivery arrived at the rear and blocked the entrance.”He grimaced.“Must be the other guy you want.”He pushed into the crowd and used his elbows when reporters stood their ground.“Let me through.I hate to be late for my next interview.”
“What did this other man look like?”A reporter shoved a microphone in his face.
Ramsay shoved it away.“Don’t know, mate.Don’t care.Let me through.”
By the time Ramsay jostled through the press and photographers and gawking locals, sweat beaded on his forehead.His mind bounced and jittered, and all he wanted was privacy to lick his wounds.His matehad used him.
Ground-eating strides propelled Ramsay to a park.A child played on the slide while the boy’s father watched him.A yappy white dog wearing a pink bow approached at a growl, sensing Ramsay’s otherness.Ramsay glowered at the barking mutt.It whimpered and darted behind its elderly female owner.
Ramsay diverted to a quiet corner and plonked his butt onto a bench seat.He replayed last evening’s events.Gabrielle had approached the bar, obviously out of her element.Because she’sa princess, his feline snapped.
Our princess.
“Not gonna happen,” Ramsay muttered.He was no Cinderella about to win the royal.Storybook plots never happened in real life.His thoughts churned, and nothing shook into normal.
Fact one: he’d hooked up with a royal princess.
Fact two: she was his mate, even though she was human.
Ramsay cursed and wished he were at home with his adopted family and friends.They’d help him make sense of this crazy mess.He sat in the fresh air and sunshine and came to a conclusion.
He might be Gabrielle’s mate, but with her human status, she’d have no concept of fate or destiny.Soul mates.He’d need to move on and live alone or seduce her to his way of thinking.Since she was a bloody princess, the chances of getting to see her in person were around nil.Honestly, he hated the idea of facing the hoard of press and photographers who’d wanted a piece of her.
No, he’d head back to the castle.It was time to research the princess.He needed to learn as much about Princess Gabrielle as possible.After he’d completed his investigation, he’d plan.
Decision made, Ramsay took the back roads to Castle Glenkirk.The reporters had spoken with the chatty receptionist.She’d be lucky to keep her job if she couldn’t keep guest info confidential.
The castle interior was blessedly silent, with most shifters participating in activities.Hoots and boos drifted from the rear garden.Ramsay stalked along a passage and into the library.As he’d hoped, it was silent and empty.He strode past book-lined walls and straight to the computer in the corner.Ramsay followed the directions taped onto the table and soon typed a search into the internet.
“Holy hell,” he muttered on seeing the photos and page links.Hundreds of them.
He clicked on the first one and stared his mouth agape.Gabrielle was engaged to a Swedish prince, their marriage taking place in three months, yet she’d slept with him.Ramsay swallowed loudly, his feline riding him hard.Claws protruded from beneath his nail beds, and the sound that escaped him came close to a feline growl.
They’d knotted.
The condom had broken.
Dammit, Gabrielle couldn’t marry this smirking Swedish prince with a poor reputation.Fast cars.Fast women.Fast living.
A sigh escaped him, the man in him sticking closer to reality.His family life would appall Gabrielle and her parents.She was so far above him in social circles, it wasn’t even funny.Yeah, he was fooling himself if he thought he might have a future with her.
It didn’t matter if they were mates.
Because she’d lied to him—not directly—but by omission.She had a fiancé.Ramsay stared at the photo of the prince in full ceremonial uniform.He supposed he was handsome.The women certainly flocked around him, judging by the other photos.How did Gabrielle cope with that?The images weren’t dated, so he wasn’t sure if they were recent.
