Skies Over Caledonia: A Small Town Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Highlands Series Book 4)

Chapter 19

Before my relationship with my father crumbled upon learning his secret, Aria and I used to attend a lot of his film premieres. We stood on the red carpet in fancy gowns beside our glamorous parents while paparazzi shouted at them to “Look this way” all the while blinding us with their camera flashes.

Footage of us had more than once been discussed by a group of famous women who hosted a panel show where they conversed about social and pop culture. They’d argued over if my clothing was suitable attire for a girl my age, and how proud Aria should be for touting society ideals about body type. Like it was Aria’s choice to be a curvy goddess and not Mother Nature’s. And like it was any of their fucking business what she looked like or what I wore.

I remember being followed by a pap when I was fourteen and on a date with Dax Reynolds, the actor Moira Reynolds’s son. Dax was two years older than me, but we attended the same high school, and everyone was so jealous he’d asked me out. At the time I’d just been excited to be dating him, but once the photos of us were published, people online started talking about how he was too old for me. Dax got weirded out by the attention and dumped me.

Lately, I’d made peace with the images of me and Jared that were splashed all over the internet with headlines like “The Farmer’s Wife,” a supposedly cute reference to my father’s movie of the same title. I should have known they’d go there. Jared and I had avoided being seen in the village together, not wanting to give them fodder for their newspapers. The great thing about living in Ardnoch was that the villagers were protective of the tourism brought in by the estate’s celebrity members, and thus protective of the celebrities. Paps were not welcome. So, they got bored after a few days and left. Jared took it all in remarkably good stride.

Long ramble short, I was used to being the focus of attention in certain situations. However, the one place I’d never gotten used to it was at my own art shows. I’d had quite a few over the years, the worst being at art school where the purpose was to be judged and graded. There was no way I’d ever get used to someone scrutinizing something I’d created. Something that was born from a deep, personal place inside me. Standing in a room filled with people looking at it was almost as bad as standing there completely naked. In fact, I’d probably deal with public nudity better than this.

“Are you okay?” Jared’s warm breath tickled my ear and I had to force off a shiver of want.

The last few weeks, since our heart-to-heart, things between us had been different. Better. And also worse. Jared was warmer and more open with me, but that also meant it was easier for me to catch feelings. I was trying very, very hard not to catch feelings. Unfortunately, the physical desire train had left the station long ago. Tonight he was my support. But also my temptation, because as “husband and wife,” this was the first time Jared was really playing his part since the wedding.

And apparently it involved keeping a possessive palm pressed to my back or taking my hand in his whenever he could. Touching! It involved touching. I was already nervous for the show but with Jared’s hands on my body, I was overstimulated.

I glanced up at him from under my lashes. “I always get nervous at these things.”

“You’ve no need,” he replied sincerely. “Seriously, Allegra … I’m no expert, but I think your work is phenomenal.”

I leaned against him. “Thank you.”

Together we’d survived the world finding out about our marriage and the explosiveness of revealing it to my parents. Well, the explosiveness of my mother discovering the truth. My dad was, as I’d guessed he would be, congratulatory and introspective about the whole thing. Mamma was not. Mamma was incensed that not only had I married behind everyone’s back, thus depriving her of a wedding, I’d married a Scotsman, just like my sister. Why did we want to be so far away from her? she’d demanded. Then, of course, she didn’t disappoint with “And a farmer! A farmer, Allegra!”

Jared had left the room at that point and my protective instincts kicked in. I had intended to be cool and calm while my mother ranted. However, hearing her insult Jared flipped a switch in me. While she yelled at me in Italian, I yelled back in good old-fashioned English.

Dad attempted to calm Mamma down, but she stormed off in a melodramatic wail of tears. I’d have felt bad if I believed for a second any of her concerns truly had to do with my well-being. Don’t get me wrong. I knew my mother loved me. But her first thought would always be for herself, and how it looked that Chiara Howard’s daughter had married an anonymous farmer.

“We’re coming to Scotland at the end of the summer before filming on my new movie starts,” Dad had replied with an unsure smile. “We’ll meet your young man then.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Congratulations, angel.”

Aching regret had plagued me at the sadness in his eyes. My feelings for my dad were so complicated, and I wished things were easier between us. “Thanks.”

We’d ended the call and I’d gone to find Jared to apologize for my mother’s appalling behavior. Thankfully, he didn’t put up walls between us again and we’d found a rhythm in our marriage these last few weeks.

Other than the fact that we weren’t having the sex my body so desperately wanted, we lived like a real husband and wife. I took over some morning chores at the farm, including helping to keep the house clean, then I went about my day, whether it was at the studio or exploring for inspiration. Or catching up with Aria and/or Sloane for lunch. Sarah and Theo had left for their place in Gairloch with an open invitation for us to visit. In the evenings, I’d come home and Jared and I would take turns making dinner, sometimes cooking together. We’d catch each other up on our days, and then we’d settle in the living room to watch TV before bed.

It wasn’t glamorous.

It was a simple life.

And if it had also involved banging my hot husband every night, it would have been a perfect life.

A life I’d always dreamed of.

Which made it infinitely dangerous to me.

“I’ll show you my favorite,” Jared suddenly said, tugging on my hand.

He pulled me through the crowd, most of them turning to peer at us curiously as we passed. Then he stopped me in front of one of my larger pieces. It was a landscape, inspired by the northern lights. I’d visited Shetland in February. It was my first time on the island and the couple who ran the BB I’d stayed at couldn’t have been kinder. They pretty much adopted me on that trip, and they’d taken me to see the northern lights. It was one of the most wondrous moments of my life.

I’d painted the greens and yellows and pinks as if they’d been misted by rain, some lines splattered with a thickness to create texture. Shards of thinly sliced opal mingled with the paint, reflecting light and shimmer against flecks of metallic glitter. Darker shadows created the mountains at night. And through the paint I’d sprinkled tiny garnets over the mountains to emulate garnets that were found on the rocks on Shetland. A line of copper paint represented the sunset the evening I’d seen them, haloing the dark mountains.

This was one of my favorite pieces I’d ever done. “This is your favorite?” I asked in awe.

Jared nodded, studying it with genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I think it’s stunning. It’s the northern lights, right?”

I bit my lip to stop the cheesy grin. The art was titled Shetland, so the fact that he understood what I’d attempted to capture was huge. “It is.” I turned to him, and Jared faced me. “It’s so weird … this is one of my favorite pieces ever. Michelle really had to talk me into selling it.”

“Aye?” He frowned. “Don’t sell it, then. If you want to keep it, you should. You’re allowed to enjoy the art you create.”

Studying the glass, I realized he was right. I’d let Michelle convince me to sell this one because I thought as an artist, I was supposed to share everything I created. But … why couldn’t I keep this one for me?

“It would look great above the fireplace instead of that old mirror we have now,” Jared murmured thoughtfully.

He wanted to put my art in the farmhouse?

My heart skipped a freaking beat.

“Let me just find Michelle and tell her to stick a SOLD sign on it.”

Jared grinned. “You do that.”

Michelle’s gallery in Inverness was not a huge space. This was my second time showing at her gallery, and the place was more packed than it had been the first time. Aria had been set to attend until I learned this weekend was the only chance she had to see North while he was shooting on location in Paris. Otherwise, she wouldn’t see him for another few weeks. I’d told her to go visit her husband. I had mine to keep me company.

As for the rest of our friends, I hadn’t told them about the show. It was easier to be vulnerable with strangers about my work than with those who knew and cared about me.

Approaching Michelle, I commented on how busy the gallery was.

“I told you people are loving your work. I’ve been sending pieces all over the country.” Michelle gave my shoulders a squeeze. “You’re one of my top artists, Allegra. You should be so proud of yourself.”

I did feel a swell of pride. Grinning, I replied, “Speaking of, I want you to put a SOLD sign on Shetland.”

“Ooh.” Her blue eyes rounded with excitement. “Did someone else offer on it?”

“Else?”

“Yes, it’s already been bought. I was just about to put a sticker on it.”

“Well, unsell it. I’m keeping it.”

Her expression fell. “That’s one of your most expensive pieces.”

Now I squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll still get your commission, but it’s too special to me. I’m sorry. I can’t sell it.”

She nodded with a sigh of understanding. “Okay. But you have to talk to Paul Gunner. He wanted to buy it, and he’s been angling for an introduction all evening. I didn’t want to interrupt your wee tête-à-tête with your husband, but now that you’re here, you can do me a favor and smooth over the fact that he won’t be getting Shetland.”

“Introduce away.”

Paul Gunner turned out to be a good-looking blond in what I’d guess to be his early forties. He was dressed sharp in a custom three-piece suit, and I clocked the twenty-thousand-dollar Tag Heuer watch on his wrist. The dude had money. No wonder Michelle wanted me to take time to meet with him. As soon as she disappeared to place a SOLD sign on Shetland, however, Mr. Gunner stepped a little too far into my personal space.

I recognized that glint in his dark eyes. Unfortunately, I’d had that look directed at me before it ever should’ve been. Taking a small step back, I brushed my hair from my face with my left hand, flashing my wedding band.

His gaze darted to it, but his expression didn’t falter. “I’ve been eager to meet you since I bought my first piece,” he said with an accent that could be either Scottish or English. It was difficult to tell. “I’m originally from Inverness but live in London now.” Ah, that made sense. “I’m a bit of a collector.”

“Really. That’s great.” I kept my smile polite. “Which piece are you most interested in tonight?”

“I’m looking at her,” he replied boldly, his hungry expression leaving no doubt to his meaning.

My inner yuck alert system blared, but I didn’t let my distaste show on my face. This was not the first time a fan of my art wanted to sleep with me. I chided gently, “Not sure how I feel about being referred to as a piece, but?—”

“Oh, I meant no offense. Really. You’re just … you are even lovelier than your art. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more beautiful woman.”

“That’s very kind, but I’m married.” I flashed my wedding ring again. “Several of my works displayed this evening, however, are available.”

“I’ve already told Michelle which pieces I want, and I’ve been very generous. Now I want to get to know the sexy woman behind them. I’m sure, considering my donation to your work”—he smiled with all the confidence of a wealthy man used to getting what he wanted—“you can indulge me with the pleasure of your company. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Paul Gunner of Gunner Industries.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I flinched back.

All pretense was gone. “You could be the richest man in the world, Mr. Gunner, and I still wouldn’t be for sale.”

“Allegra—”

“Lucy,” I corrected him harshly. “Have you been looking into me?”

“I told you, I’m a fan.” Paul’s possessive gaze grew hard with determination. “It makes no mind to me you’re Allegra Howard. I’m not interested in your parentage.”

“It’s Allegra McCulloch now.”

He huffed in amusement. “One dinner. Just a dinner. That’s all I ask. I’m sure it’ll be enough time to change your mind.” He then proceeded to trail the back of his fingers down my bare arm. I flinched from him again, unnerved by his persistence.

Then heat hit my back, a hard, familiar chest pressing against me as strong arms encircled my waist. Jared’s scent, his presence, relieved me as he brushed a gentle kiss over my temple. I glanced up at him, his tender expression morphing into absolute menace as he turned to Paul Gunner.

“I’m the husband,” he bit out coolly. “I don’t know who you are, but touch my wife again and I’ll break your fucking hand.”

A thrill coursed through me at his possessive, protective words. And longing. For them to be real.

Gunner looked at Jared with a mix of fear and disgust. He flicked me a look that told me I’d gone down a million miles in his estimation. “I see your artist talents don’t translate to taste. I think I’ll let Michelle know I won’t be buying anything this evening.”

Jared tensed behind me, but I patted a palm over his hand in reassurance as I looked Gunner straight in the eye. “You do that. After all, money can’t buy class.”

He narrowed his eyes at me before storming off.

“Fuck.” Jared turned into me, his expression apologetic. “I didn’t mean to fuck up a sale. I just saw the way you were reacting to him and lost my shit a wee bit.”

I grinned, having enjoyed every second of him losing his shit “a wee bit.” “Don’t apologize. Watching him almost pee his pants was worth losing the sale. Trust me.”

“What did he say to you?” Jared stared over his shoulder as Gunner strode quickly out of the gallery. A shared glance with Michelle told me she wasn’t happy. But I didn’t care.

“He wanted to sleep with me,” I replied bluntly. “Apparently, he thought buying a lot of my art would make it hard for me to say no.”

“What the fuck?” Jared replied a little too loudly.

I hushed him, smoothing another reassuring hand across his chest. It was totally an excuse to feel him up. “It’s not unusual. I’ve had a few wealthy fans, male and female, who have propositioned me for sex. Some are just creepier and more entitled than others.” I gestured to the door where Gunner left. “That asshole decided he wanted something from me and thought his money could get it for him. He thought wrong.”

“I should have knocked his teeth out,” Jared muttered angrily, looking like he was considering chasing after Gunner to do just that.

“Allegra.” Michelle was suddenly upon us, amusement and disappointment mingling in her eyes. “Your possessive hubby might have to stay home at the next showing.”

I flushed with pleasure at the words. “It’s not Jared’s fault. Gunner suggested I should have sex with him in return for all the money he was spending tonight.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Oh dear. Oh, that’s terribly disappointing. He’d picked out five pieces. Including the Shetland piece.”

I shuddered at the thought of an asshole like him owning that particular work. “Well, no one is getting that piece.”

“Is this your doing?” Michelle teased Jared. “Are you encouraging her to keep her art to herself?”

Jared slid his arm around my waist, pulling me tight into his side. “I’m encouraging her to keep the things that make her happy.”

My breath caught.

Oh, Jared, please don’t tempt me … because I’m kind of scared one of those things just might be you.

We were both tired by the time we returned to the farmhouse, but a tension zipped between us. A tension we’d both been able to ignore thus far. Until that moment with Gunner where real feelings might have popped up to the surface.

“I’m sorry again about losing you the sales,” Jared apologized, even though he really didn’t have to.

We’d stopped at the top of the stairs before each of our bedrooms. I patted his shoulder in reassurance. “Don’t be. Seriously. The thought of that asshole having my work displayed in his house makes me kind of sick, so you did me a huge favor.”

“Okay. Good.” He shifted a little awkwardly on his feet. “I, uh, it’s late and I’m up early so …”

“Jared.” I stopped him as he moved to walk past. “Thank you. For coming tonight.”

Despite the experience with Gunner, it had been a successful evening. A few people at the show had been a little pretentious, and I knew Jared was bored by some of the conversation. But he stood by my side all night.

Out of the twenty pieces on display, we sold ten, which was unbelievable. Michelle would put the remaining pieces up in her gallery and online.

“Of course.” Jared bent his head to brush a feather-soft kiss against my cheek and this time I couldn’t suppress my shiver.

His breath caught and he lingered a second in my personal space before seeming to jerk back as if I’d bitten him.

“Night,” he said gruffly without looking at me.

Then he strode into his room.

I hurried into mine, pressing against the door, willing my pulse to slow and my skin to cool.

A few seconds later, I heard his bedroom door open again and I froze like a statue.

Please knock on my door, please knock on my door.

The floor creaked beyond my bedroom as if Jared had stopped right outside it. I held my breath, knowing if he did knock, my self-control would shatter. I’d welcome him into my room and into my body in a heartbeat.

Crushing disappointment filled me at the sound of him walking downstairs instead. Frustrated, I pulled off the sparkly flapper-style dress I’d donned for my show. As I readied for bed, I heard Jared returning to his room. Determinedly, I attempted to put him from my mind.

Ready for bed, makeup off, skin care regimen done, I crossed the room as quietly as possible, intending to head downstairs for a glass of water.

Uncontrollably drawn to my husband, however, I couldn’t help but glance at his doorway as I stepped out of mine.

To my surprise, his door was slightly ajar, the lights still on. I tiptoed toward it, intending to shut it for him when I heard the shower running in his en suite.

Jared was in the shower.

Naked.

It was easy at that moment to fantasize walking into his room, pulling off the thin nightie I wore because of the hot summer night, and then stepping into his bathroom naked. To imagine that Jared would take one look at me through the steamy glass of his shower door, slide it open, and haul me inside.

How he’d press me up against the damp tiles and take my nipple in his?—

The sound of a door closing wrenched me from my fantasy, and I realized in mortification that Jared’s shower had stopped. That he was walking into view.

Naked.

Totally, absolutely, phenomenally naked.

My lips parted as heat pooled in my belly at the sight of him.

He rubbed his wet hair with a towel as he wandered over to his bed, checking his phone absentmindedly. Completely unaware he was being ogled.

There was a lot to ogle.

Rivulets of water trailed down between his hard pecs, following a light fur of hair that disappeared to reveal smooth, sculpted abdominal muscles. He wasn’t crazy defined like Taka, who worked out constantly because he was usually half-naked at some point in one of his TV shows, but Jared was naturally muscular and hard from constant physical work.

When my gaze finally made it to his semi-hard cock protruding between muscular thighs, I had to hold in a gasp.

Jared was big. Above-average length. And thick.

The girth …

Wet heat flooded between my thighs.

I itched to throw open the door and throw myself on him.

But Jared turned, thankfully with his back to me. Thankfully because not only did it provide me with an excellent view of his muscular ass, but it meant he didn’t see me as he headed out of sight toward the bathroom.

What the hell are you doing?I shrieked at myself, backing up as quietly and as slowly as possible. This was wrong. This was so wrong.

I’d perved on Jared.

Forgetting about the glass of water, I scurried back into my room, barely able to hear over the rushing of blood in my ears.

Scrambling into bed, I reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table, plunging the room into somewhat darkness, considering the sky was still navy outside.

I tried to slow my breathing, to calm myself enough to sleep.

But every time I closed my eyes I saw naked Jared.

Naked Jared.

My naked husband.

“Ugh,” I groaned. How unfair was it that he was technically mine … and I couldn’t have him.

As I tossed and turned, trying to sleep, unable to for the flush across my skin, I eventually decided that I could at least have him in my fantasies. So I held the image of him in my head as I touched myself and smothered the sounds of my orgasm in my pillow.

Finally, eventually, I drifted to sleep.