Page 131 of Screwged for Christmas

Shame. I liked the drama of it.

I made my way back to the front of the castle. I bypassed the ballroom, refusing to even glance inside. One look at Malcolm and my resolve would weaken.

In the main front hall, Jaime stood by the massive wooden front doors.

I recognized the young man from my arrival. I’d seen him around Lachlan working while I was here. He always blushed when he saw me.

Sweet. Why couldn’t I fall for some sweet guy like that? Hell, we were probably the same age. Instead, I was in love with the broody, bossy asshole duke.

“Jaime, can you give me a ride to the airport.”

“Now?” His glance dropped lower to my attire.

“Now.”

“His Grace’s vehicles are away in the garages. But there are taxis out front for the guests.”

“A taxi sounds perfect.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Should I gather your luggage?”

“No need. I’m ready to go now.”

He shrugged out of the dark wool coat that he wore. “You’ll need this, my Lady.” He held it out to me as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. It was still warm from his body. He wore the Lachlan staff uniform of a blue button-down shirt and blue pants. He’d need another coat, but I’m sure there was a closet full of them.

Jaime swallowed. “What should I say to His Grace?”

I looked down. The jacket arms were too long, and the coat’s hem went past my knees. A badge with Lachlan ducal crest was sewn on the chest pocket.

I ripped the crest off and handed it to Jaime. “Give him this.”

He dipped his head, then opened the front door for me. A frigid gust blew inside, but I put my head down and dove outside.

The snow had stopped falling and a ring of private cars and taxis waited along the circular driveway.

Jaime started down the steps with me, taking my arm lightly. Even cleared of snow and ice, the stairs were treacherous in my heels.

His cell phone rang. He paused. “I’m needed inside.”

“Thank you for the coat. Go, before you freeze.”

He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “Safe travels, my Lady.”

I stared down at his tips. I’d repay him once I got away from here. “Thank you.”

He hurried back up the steps.

Pulling the coat closer, I reached the curb, but the first two taxis I approached told me they’d been pre-arranged.

Great.

Nice escape. I’d made it all the way to the driveway. I was cold out here to stand around looking for a ride. And I didn’t want Malcolm to notice I was gone.

Just then, a black Range Rover pulled around the driveway. The passenger window unrolled. “Need a lift?” The man’s Scottish accent was thick. His cap was pulled low over his head. The inside of the car was dark, the interior lights weren’t working.

I didn’t hesitate. Beggars couldn’t be choosers on Christmas Eve.

“Yes, please!” I opened the back-passenger door and slipped inside. I sagged against the leather seat. I squeezed my eyes shut, lying my head against the headrest.

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