Chapter 14 #3
“I’m writing it down as you speak.”
“Thank you.” I hand the phone back to Reuben, anger making my belly curl over itself. “You’re mine to torment,” I inform him. “Not Robbie’s.”
His eyes are very bright in his craggy face, but I don’t have time to appreciate it because I’m too busy jumping up and vomiting over the side of the boat.
It seems like hours until the ferry docks at Fishnish, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we drive off it.
“You okay?” Reuben asks. He’d been quiet for the rest of the journey apart from handing me some ginger biscuits and telling me to eat them.
They must have done the trick because my stomach is easier now, although my head is making up for it.
It’s pounding like a drum, and I feel tired down to my bones.
“I’m fine,” I snap, and I know he doesn’t believe me, but this is all his fault, so he can take the flak.
We drive for a few minutes in silence, and then Reuben stirs. “It’s thirty minutes to Tobermory. Are you going to be okay?”
I nod impatiently. He doesn’t say anything, and I sigh. “I don’t feel great,” I admit quietly. “I just need to sleep.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
We’re driving along a narrow road running by the water with steep hills all around us.
I look around curiously, trying to take my mind off how shitty I feel.
I’ve never been to Scotland before this visit.
We pass farms with horses and cows grazing in the shadow of mountains, and then we’re passing a forest of pines that cast dark shadows against the golden light of evening.
At points the road is so narrow that Reuben has to pull into passing places to let other cars come through.
He handles it all with that air of capability that’s always impressed me, being so far from my own chaotic organisation.
Movement catches my eye, and I see a ferry chugging along on the Sound. It’s like we’re chasing it as we come in and out of tree cover.
“Where’s that going?” I ask idly.
He jerks out of whatever thoughts were occupying him. “Oh, Tobermory.”
“Why didn’t we dock there then, you dick?”
“We were nearer the Lochaline crossing.” Silence falls again, and then he stirs. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
He rubs his hand along his forearm, pushing his jumper back. His forearms are so attractive—always tanned and muscled. My gaze strays to his hands. Pip was right. They are fucking sexy. I shift position and clear my throat. “Do what?”
“You threatened Robbie, but the truth is that he should have been reported to the police for what he did. You gave up that opportunity to protect me.”
“I told you. Only I can torment you.”
“While that makes me feel really super special, he should be prosecuted, Xavi.” He clears his throat. “Xavier,” he corrects himself.
“I don’t need to prosecute him.”
He looks at me curiously. “Why?”
“Because Robbie apparently pulled the same tricks with Karl.”
“Who?”
“Another model. He’s Swedish. His boyfriend is extremely rich, connected, and very protective. Karl is okay, but his boyfriend is on the warpath. Robbie has more trouble coming his way than I could ever bring him.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
I waggle my phone. “I don’t know whether you’ve ever seen this device being sold through the centuries of your existence.”
He huffs. “Okay. It’s up to you to deal with the situation the way you feel is best.”
“I don’t think Robbie will be doing it again.” I shrug. “His career’s finished anyway. Once word gets out, he’s a dead man walking in the fashion world.”
“It doesn’t strike me as a particularly moralistic world.”
“It isn’t,” I say simply. “But he broke the golden rule.”
“Do not give fellow models spiked drugs and attempt to rape them?”
“Don’t get caught.”
Silence falls again. I’m aware of passing through Tobermory and have a vague impression of a seafront lined with houses and shops painted in bright primary colours, but my whole attention is on how long it’ll be before I can sleep.
Then the road is climbing steeply away, and I close my eyes as the sunset flickers against my lids. I press a hand to my stomach, and Reuben says, “Only a few more minutes.” His voice is full of concern.
I’m seriously flagging by the time he pulls up in front of a large stone cottage. I keep my eyes slitted to avoid the light, my head pounding like there’s a tiny man with an axe hitting the inside of my skull.
“We’re here,” Reuben says quietly, switching off the engine. “Can you walk?”
“I will do,” I say grimly. “You are not carrying me in your horribly sexy arms.” There’s a startled sound from him that I ignore. “I want to go to bed,” I say plaintively.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“Hush with that, please.”
He climbs out, and I hear his footsteps.
The door opens, and he guides me out. “Four steps,” he says, his arm a steel band around me as I stumble along.
I hear a door opening. I have a distant impression of a cottage, and then he’s guiding me in and up some narrow stairs, hovering behind me, so I don’t fall.
“Is this Mount Everest?” I gasp, clinging to the bannister like I’m at sea. The floor appears to be tilting under my feet.
I hear a curse, and then I’m being lifted. “Oh my god, this is bridal style,” I mutter. “You could have done a fireman’s lift for the sake of my dignity.”
“There’s no fucking way I want vomit down my back.”
“Oh my. This is just like being in a BBC period drama. So romantic.”
“How is it that you are still being snarky?”
“It’s one of the fifteen wonders of the world.”
“There are only seven, unless they’ve added a few while I wasn’t paying attention.”
He doesn’t even sound breathless, and I’m not a light weight. He eases me into a darkened room. I’ve always wanted to see his private spaces, to see the way he inhabits the rooms he calls home, but I don’t even pay attention now. All I can see is the massive bed, and I could cry with relief.
“You need the bathroom?” he asks, lowering me to the floor.
I shake my head and moan at the pain in my skull. I pull at my clothes and make a disgruntled sound when they don’t fly off immediately, and instantly his hands are there unbuttoning and unzipping.
“Lie down, baby,” he says, easing me down onto a firm mattress. The sheets billow above me, and then I’m engulfed in cool cotton that smells of him. I’m in his bed. I snuggle down into the pillow, sighing.
He goes to move away, and I stretch out my hand. “Don’t go,” I mutter. I’ll want to shoot myself for that in the morning, but I can’t help the plaintive words today. “Don’t leave me.”
I feel his hand in my hair, his fingers stroking it back, the movement as gentle as a kiss.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not when you need me.
” I want to remonstrate with him, but I can’t.
Instead, I sigh and hear him say, “My Xavi,” very softly.
And then sleep falls over me like a blanket coming down over the whole world.