Chapter 11 What Happened to Me #2
The air stirs as he passes by. From what I can tell, we’re in a set of four seats that face each other like in Dad’s private jet.
In the distance, a woman asks, “What can I get you, sir?”
“Whisky,” Wes mumbles, sounding farther away.
Ice clinks in a glass.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Rory?” Lachlan asks in a hushed voice. “Don’t ever bring up Tessa regarding Emery, especially around Wes.”
Rory sighs with disdain. “Mum warned you this could happen.”
Lachlan’s entire body stiffens under me. Even his hold on me tightens. “Don’t.” The quiet reply is delivered with the force of a sledgehammer.
Tension fills the air for long moments. Wes doesn’t come back. Eventually, Lachlan’s body softens. Unable to move still, I grow tired and let the drug coursing through my veins drag me back under.
A hard jostle rattles me from my slumber.
My lashes flutter as I struggle to open my eyes. Lachlan’s face comes into view. He’s staring at his phone, his head turned slightly away. I’m on his lap, in his arms. Warmth radiates from his strong body.
“What happened?” I croak.
His gaze snaps to me, and he studies my face. “How do you feel?”
I touch my head where a dull ache lingers behind my eyes. The movement feels weak and uncertain, like I don’t have full control over my body. “Tired and fuzzy.”
“Headache?” he asks with a tenderness that suggests he cares.
“Yes.” I make several slow blinks.
He adjusts me so my head rests on his shoulder, then takes a glass of water from a nearby tray. He helps me hold it, aware my fingers aren’t at full strength. Together we get a few sips down my throat.
“Is your stomach upset at all?” Again, the sincerity in his voice throws me.
“No. Just my head hurts.” Should I feel sick? He still hasn’t told me what happened.
“Ibuprofen,” he orders Rory.
His brother pours pills from a bottle and hands Lachlan two.
“Here.” Lachlan sets them in my palm.
I slip them into my mouth, and again, he helps me drink water to swallow them down. “Thanks.”
I take in the private jet. Wes stands by the door with a leather backpack slung over his shoulder, ready to get off. A flight attendant is in front of him, staring toward the cockpit like she’s waiting for something.
Wes’s gaze sweeps over me, a scowl curling his lips. Why does he hate me so much?
“Do you feel well enough to stand?” Lachlan asks. His legs are probably asleep.
I nod and let him help me up, confused about why my hair is down and not in a braid anymore. Rory takes me by the arm to keep me steady as Lachlan rises behind me.
“Where are we?” I mumble to Rory.
“Northern Scotland.” He grins with pride.
I consider how long it took to fly here from New York. Eight or nine hours? I was out for that long?
“What happened to me?” I ask Rory, who’s still helping to keep me steady on my feet while Lachlan stirs behind me.
His gaze leaves mine to focus on Lachlan’s. He can’t answer without permission?
“I deserve to know,” I add.
“Can you walk?” Lachlan asks, his chest brushing my back. His strong hands are on both my arms now that Rory has let go and stepped out from the four seats that face each other.
“Do you want me to take her?” Rory asks Lachlan.
Part of me wants him to. He’s gentler and kinder—Lachlan’s recent actions aside. He might also answer my question, considering the control freak behind me isn’t telling me anything. But another traitorous part of me wants to curl against Lachlan’s heat like a kitten and purr.
“I want Rory,” I say with more strength in my voice than before.
Lachlan’s grip tightens on my arms as he pins me against him. “Wait for us in the car.”
A noise draws my gaze to the opening jet door. Wes exits with the flight attendant, and Rory walks to follow behind them.
The pilots wait and one of them makes eye contact with Lachlan.
“Go ahead,” he tells them.
They leave, and it’s just me and my domineering husband.
He angles his head to peer over my shoulder and stares down at me—not hard to do when he’s more than half a foot taller. His aqua eyes collide with mine. “Those words will never leave your mouth again. You’re my wife. You can only want me.”
Anger builds in me faster than seems possible after being out of it for so long. My lips press into a hard line. “That wasn’t in the agreement.”
“Did you read any section that said we could have an open marriage?”
I think back to that hour in my dad’s office.
The fuzziness lingering in my brain doesn’t make it easy.
I also can’t remember any section that stated we could date or have affairs.
I just assumed it was implied. Dammit. Why didn’t I insist on adding it?
I was overwhelmed at the time. So much has happened and so quickly.
My phone conversation with my mom returns to me, but is gone the minute Lachlan says, “That’s right, Cat-fiadhaich.”
The name of the castle’s stray cat sends annoyance roiling through my veins. “Stop calling me that!”
He ignores me. “I’m the only man available to you. Your wants belong to me. The sooner you except that, the happier we’ll be.”
I scoff. “Happy my ass. I hate you. You won’t even tell me what happened to me.”
His jaw muscles tick. “You want the truth?” he asks like it’s a threat.
“Yes.” I try to wiggle from his hold, my anger giving me strength I didn’t have before.
He allows me to turn so my shoulder rests against his chest, keeping me close with his grip on my arm while I stare up at him.
“Centuries ago, a feud began on the Scottish side of my family that endures to this day. An earl from the 1600s had two castles—one in the highlands and one in the south. He left the northern one, his land, name, and even his noble title to his mistress and her son from another man, whom the earl had raised as his own. That decision fractured the MacReid bloodline. My cousin Angus, a direct descendent of the earl and full-blooded MacReid, believes the estate is his birthright. Legally, he has no claim, not unless I relinquish it. I’ve been working on a solution to appease him for some time.
The airport was a message—he’s tired of waiting. ”
I take a moment to let this brief history lesson sink in, as so many different things fight to get to the forefront of my mind.
My conversation with my mom in the bathroom.
Vomiting. Being stabbed in the neck—with what I now know was a needle.
I was drugged. Prickles of ice coat my skin, and I shiver.
“He wanted me kidnapped as leverage?” I whisper with fear. What is wrong with families and old legacies? Even my dad adheres to archaic traditions, like marrying off his daughters, although that seems minor in comparison.
“Yes,” Lachlan answers.
“But you stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“What would they have done to me if you hadn’t?”
Lachlan pulls me tighter against his chest. “They shouldn’t have gotten close to you at all. It won’t happen again.” His tone is like a vow.
“What if they do? What will happen?” As ridiculous as it sounds, my brain conjures an image of me being tortured in a dungeon. I can handle a lot on an emotional level. I can’t say the same about pain.
“They won’t,” he says with finality.
Laughter twists up my throat. “I’m surprised you didn’t let them keep me. We’re already married. Having me removed from your life would have made things easier for you.”
“But much less fun.” His gaze falls to my lips, the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
He’s turned on again? “I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t have to understand me. But I am a man of my word. I will keep you safe.”
It would make my life easier if I could believe him, but I’m not there yet. Still, I nod and force down my fear. “My father doesn’t know about this, I take it?”
He drags his gaze up to my eyes. “It won’t affect my business with him.”
“If I go missing, it will affect him.” Probably not—the man gave me freely to Lachlan. Still, it feels good to say.
“You won’t. My castle is secure. No one gets in or out without my knowledge.”
Meaning, I can’t leave without his permission. “So I’m to be your prisoner.”
“The feud will be over soon enough. Until then, consider my castle and all the land around it your playground.”
“Like I said, a prisoner.” I cross my arms, my elbow pressing into his muscular abs. “What if I want my mother to join me?”
“And risk putting her in danger too?”
I didn’t think about it like that. Dammit. There goes that plan. Stifling a groan, I spin on my heel to walk away, not wanting to be near the man who nearly got me kidnapped and plans to trap me in his castle.
Lachlan’s hand stays on my arm. Good thing. Dizziness swarms my head, and I teeter, almost falling down.
He scoops me up into his arms, bride-across-the-threshold style.
“I can walk,” I argue, although that is debatable.
“You could also stumble down those metal stairs and land on the asphalt, scraping up this beautiful face and skin. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“And what an excellent job you’ve done so far.” I hold his gaze.
His jaw ticks again.
To my surprise, he doesn’t have a comeback. He just carries me off the plane and down the stairs like he’s an expertly trained firefighter.
The first thing I notice is that it’s late morning with a hazy sky. A crisp, cool breeze brushes across my skin, drawing goosebumps. At least it’s not raining. Isn’t it always raining here? Or is it dryer in June?
I feel like an idiot being carried from the plane to one of two waiting black Range Rovers.
Lachlan settles me into the back seat of the one with the door already open and closes it behind me, trapping me with the beefy driver I remember as Connal.
Then he climbs in on the other side, and shuts the door, sealing us inside the warmer space.
“Go,” he instructs.
My guess is Rory and Wes are in the Range Rover in front of ours.
I focus out the window, ignoring Lachlan’s oak and rain scent, and the way my heart softens every time he calls me beautiful.
He’s not trying to compliment me. He wouldn’t bother.
I know that much about him. He means what he says, and what he doesn’t say has meaning too.
His silence isn’t him being agreeable. It’s calculating.
A mistake I made during our first conversation in the pool house bathroom, and a mistake I won’t make again.