Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Rowen rolled onto her back and did a full body stretch, then promptly winced at the soreness in her lower back and shoulders from the car ride and stress.
She yawned as her eyes blinked open and focused on the ceiling, her gaze drawn to the beam of soft amber light coming from a small lamp on the bedside table, offering just enough brightness to see without hurting her eyes.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned again before sitting up.
Only to frown when she became aware of the comforter pulled over her and that she was still in her clothes.
She vaguely remembered walking into the house and entering the bedroom, but nothing after that.
She must have crashed. Rowen raised her feet to see that someone had removed her shoes.
A glance at the bed showed she hadn’t haphazardly kicked them off during sleep.
She found them placed neatly side by side against the wall next to a white suede chair, where her bag of clothes sat.
She scooted toward the edge of the mattress and noticed the water on the bedside table.
She grabbed it and drained it in a few gulps while eyeing the rest of the room.
The walls had been painted a cross between mauve and beige, lending the room an understated luxury while the crisp, white furniture stood out like sculpted art, drawing the eye with effortless elegance.
The bed linens and comforter were all shades of white, but each carried its own texture—cotton, quilted velvet, soft matte—layered to create richness and dimension.
Throw pillows in muted mauve, deep plum, light gray, and warm sand added subtle color without disturbing the tranquil palette.
Sparkle came in the form of a sequined mauve pillow situated on the chair.
Delicate floral artwork lent the walls an air of quiet sophistication, with a whisper of nature’s harmony.
Sheer mauve curtains swathed the window frames, their gentle drape softening the white blinds behind them.
The room was calming and lavish yet comfortable and opulent. She sat in the space for several minutes, taking it all in. She would have no problem relaxing in this room. And that wasn’t always the case—some places just had a weird vibe. But here, she could get cozy.
Rowen placed the empty water bottle on the table and got to her feet.
Her toes sank into the plush, silver-gray rug that covered the majority of the room’s wooden-planked floor.
After she’d straightened the bed, she made her way around to the two tall windows.
It took her a moment to figure out which lever raised the blinds.
Once she did, light flooded the room, blinding her.
She turned her head to the side and raised a hand to shield her face until her eyes grew accustomed to the light.
Her breath caught at the first glimpse of the wild, windswept mountains dominating her view.
There was nothing gentle about the range.
Their jagged, weatherworn spines were shrouded in mist and memory, shaped by centuries of storms. They weren’t just a backdrop.
They were a challenge, fierce and apologetic. Primal and brooding.
And they called to her soul.
Her gaze leisurely wandered across the mountains, taking note of the water cascading down the slopes, hollowing into rocks over millions of years and bequeathing an awe-inspiring panorama of unyielding defiance and untamed grandeur.
The dark, craggy peaks stood in stark contrast to the rolling green hills she was eager to explore.
When she was finally able to pull herself away from the scene, she tried to find the sun in the sky to gauge the time, but eventually gave up and turned back to the room. The sight of a bright yellow sticky note on a door drew her attention. She walked to it and read: Bathroom.
Rowen grinned at the care Mason had taken.
It would be easy to fall for someone like him.
Not that she would let herself, but damn.
The accent, the way he protected her, and now the way he took care of her?
It was a lot for anyone to dismiss. But it wasn’t a road she would venture down, no matter how tempting it might be.
She opened the door, expecting to find a toilet and perhaps a sink. Instead, she found a full bathroom with a shower and a claw-foot tub.
“I’m in heaven,” she murmured as she looked around at colors that mimicked the bedroom.
She eyed the tub, imagining a long soak, but right now, she craved a shower.
She turned back to the door to get clothes, when her hand knocked something on the sink vanity.
She righted a small bottle of shampoo and noticed the rest of the options set out.
There was conditioner, two different bars of soap, hair gel, a comb, a blow-dryer, a toothbrush and paste, deodorant, eye cream, and face moisturizer.
There was even a small bottle of mouth rinse.
Next to all of it was another sticky note that said: It’s all for you. M.
Had Mason gotten all of this for her? She twisted her lips as she looked out the door to her bed.
Rowen hastily stripped out of her clothes, grabbed items from the counter, and got into the shower.
She scrubbed her skin until it was pink and washed her hair three times.
After sliding the conditioner through the length, she let it sit for a few minutes as she stood facing the spray, the hot water rushing over her skin.
She felt like a new person by the time she rinsed and dried off.
She wrapped the towel around herself and washed her panties in the sink before going to the bag for clothes.
It would’ve been nice to have her luggage, but even she had to admit that she hadn’t packed appropriately.
She didn’t travel often, and she had only left the US once to go to Mexico.
Reading weather reports and comparing them to the weather she was used to hadn’t adequately prepared her for London’s weather.
Now, she was much farther north and chilled, despite it being May.
Rowen dug into the bag and found some sweats. It would have to do while her panties dried. She moved the bag from the chair so she could sit and discovered two piles of clothes and another note.
We took a guess at sizes.
How long had she been asleep? Rowen sorted through the options and spotted a set of panties still in the plastic and ripped them open.
She would have to wash her bra tonight, but she wasn’t going without.
Since she had no idea what the day held, she wanted to be at least semi-appropriate.
Sweats wouldn’t cut it. Ferne’s jeans from the storage unit were too long, but there were three others to try.
One pair, she couldn’t get over her hips.
The other was too tight in the thighs, but the third gave her the relaxed fit she preferred.
A soft gray sweater caught her eye. She put on a black Henley as a base layer, then slipped the sweater over her head.
Once socks covered her chilly toes, she returned to the bathroom to brush her teeth and finish with her toiletries.
Then she combed out her hair and added a little gel before drying.
Rowen studied herself in the mirror and bit back a yawn.
She could sleep for another few hours, but wanted to get an idea of where they were and what was happening.
Not to mention, she needed to call her mom soon.
Oh, and they would be going to the manor.
At least now, she was rested, showered, and looked presentable.
She put on Ferne’s too-big sneakers from the storage unit and opened the door to her room.
She looked to the right and found a couple of doors along the hallway that ended.
Then she looked left. After a small hesitation, she stepped out onto a white-on-beige runner that ran the length of the corridor and covered more of the pretty wooden floor.
Within steps, she found herself in a cozy, well-appointed kitchen with a breakfast bar. Behind the barstools was a large window, revealing more of the breathtaking scenery. There was still no sign of Mason, though.
She continued her search in the living area, where she found an L-shaped sofa against the wall opposite a fireplace.
A generous TV hung above the mantel while three chairs filled the space.
There were board games and cards in a glass-door cabinet, along with fiction and puzzle books.
Something to occupy everyone, it seemed.
Rowen walked to the windows to look for Mason. She found him outside, staring toward a body of water that reflected the mountains and rippled with the wind. His pensive expression kept her from immediately going to him. He looked good against the wild, unyielding land.
She had seen him at headquarters, but only briefly.
The rest of her interaction with him had been while he was injured and weak.
Now, he stood tall and commanding—and more handsome than ever.
Imposing, even. A man who strode through life with his back straight and head held high.
He was a fighter, a person of action who sought justice for his parents. But who was Mason Crawford, really?
There were multiple layers to him, and she had only peeled back a few. A part of her wished to learn more, but it would be foolish of her to even try. She tore her eyes from him and returned her gaze to the scenic wonders of Skye.