Chapter 12 You’re Human #2
When we clear the woods, the rode splits in three directions, but my gaze stays forward.
Large bushy trees sit on two low hills of equal height and line a long driveway.
At the far end, in the dead center and framed by trees, stands a white castle four or five stories tall.
The windows are all different sizes, which makes it hard to tell.
The symmetrical structure has round turrets on each of the four corners that remind me of Cinderella’s castle, but the massive size is more Merida’s castle from Brave.
I pictured something medieval. Although this definitely has that vibe with the window shapes, dark wood accents, and large gate door, the two flags anchored at the peak of each front turret makes it more fairy tale.
The closer we get, I notice something else. The castle sits on a cliffside with the ocean spreading behind it as far as the eye can see.
Holy Chanel!
The trees lining the driveway end and two sets of stairs cut into the hills on either side, leading to where, I’m not sure. I can’t see over the hills from here.
We pass between two large lion statues that connect to a wall surrounding the large parking area and castle. There isn’t any landscaping other than grass from here to the castle entrance, but with the ocean backdrop, I suppose it’s not necessary.
I don’t see any gardens or orangeries, just more grass and cliffside that stretches far to the left and right.
I have no idea how old this castle is, if it has a name, and any of the wonderful things that come with a piece of history like this. I would ask, but after Lachlan’s dickish remark, I don’t want to speak to him ever again.
From the looks of this place, my plan to escape is slim unless I steal a car or a boat—if there even is a way down that steep cliff.
From here, it seems far too high for even a set of stairs.
More like multiple sets or an elevator. I wouldn’t be surprised if this castle has a bat cave hidden underneath.
Connal parks near the front entrance.
Lachlan has been watching me from the corner of his eye, probably loving my impressed expression—more to fuel his ego.
He turns his head my way, arrogance sparking in those bright aqua eyes, and lifts a hand toward the castle. “Welcome home.”
Welcome to house arrest is more like it. I frown as I stare at the fortress that belongs to my husband. Seeing his ancestral home for the first time could have been a beautiful moment. It should have been. Now this experience will forever be a tainted memory.
“Why isn’t she smiling?” Connal asks, his brutish voice jolting me from my depressed stupor. “Most people smile when they see Duhnill castle.”
“I assume those people aren’t prisoners brought here against their will.” With my eyes on the castle door, I inhale a shaky breath and release it with the same vibration.
I can feel Lachlan’s gaze on my face, the intensity hot like a branding iron. I don’t dare look at him, although from my peripheral vision, I might notice a frown—as unlikely as that seems.
The second I peer his way to glimpse his expression, he looks away and opens the door. He and Connal climb out of the SUV at the same time. I’m about to scoot across the seat and exit through Lachlan’s door when mine opens.
“Mrs. Ashford,” Connal says, rolling the r in his Scottish accent.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me. “Call me Emery.” I climb out. “I prefer it to that other name you just used.” I wiggle my fingers the way my mother does when she shoos me away. Never thought I’d mimic her.
You’re not my daughter, plays in my head, the words as slurred as when she said them to me.
My chest crumbles inward. You’d think that after years of being labeled as the worst daughter and the least valuable family member, my skin would be as hard as diamonds, but this new ache feels like an amputation.
Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. I haven’t experienced it yet, so I don’t know how to ignore it.
I’ll learn. If I’m good at anything, it’s pressing on.
Although the sun has melted away much of the fog, it feels colder here.
A salty wind blows through my long strands, sending them in every direction.
I shiver and hug myself—being this close to the ocean makes the temperature chillier.
Seagulls squawk in the distance stealing my attention.
I don’t know why I’m surprised to hear and see them.
We’re literally on the ocean, but when I think of Scotland my brain pictures mountains in the Highlands, Hogwarts Castle, and Loch Ness monsters.
Not crashing waves and seagulls. I watch the birds soar above the ocean, envious of how easily they can leave here and fly wherever they want.
For a second, I forget I’m cold until a warm coat settles on my shoulders.
“Thank you.” I spy Lachlan behind me and scowl. “Is this yours?”
His gaze narrows as if he knows I’m a second from throwing the thing to the ground. “Rory’s.”
He’s lying. At least I think he is. However, since I don’t know for certain and I like Rory, I can’t risk ruining the coat.
Wes brushes by with his phone pressed to his ear and his leather bag on his shoulder as he races into the castle.
I glance around and find Rory helping Connal get luggage from the back of the SUV.
Pasting on my sweetest smile, I shuffle over to him. “Thank you for the jacket.” With my hands on his chest for balance, I push onto the tip of my wedges, and whisper in his ear, “I promise to return it once we’re inside.”
Stomping sounds from behind me, drawing closer.
Rory glances over my shoulder and frowns with sympathy.
In an instant, big hands grip my waist, and I’m hoisted off my feet. With a groan, Lachlan hauls me against his hard chest and carries me like a child into the house, my legs dangling.
In my ear, he snarls, “My castle. My wife. My rules.”
Heat shoots straight to my core, flooding it as his hot breath caresses my skin. My body’s reaction to this Neanderthal behavior is surprising. Instead of being enraged, I’m turned on.
Wait. I can’t be turned on. I don’t like him. In fact, I hate him.
To prove that I do, I grumble, “I hate you,” through clenched teeth.
Lachlan swings me down a hallway on the right. My hair hangs over my face in a mess, blocking my view of the castle corridors. His shoes, slapping over hard floors, echo throughout the vast space. Even with my view obscured, I can feel how big and cold the hallway is.
We turn again and climb stairs, Lachlan’s steps echoing everywhere. The space seems tighter and curves around and around as we climb. On the second or third floor, he leaves the staircase and stomps down another hallway, one that is carpeted based on his quieter footsteps.
“Put me down,” I order and wiggle to get free, which only sends more hair over my face.
Between the outside wind and this, it’ll take me an hour to brush out the knots.
Fine hair like mine tangles easier than a pile of necklaces.
People think because I have a lot of hair that it’s thick. They couldn’t be more wrong.
Now I have another reason to be mad at Lachlan. I doubt he’ll help me comb through this mess.
How long is this hallway? I’m about to tell him to put me down again when he jerks right. Holding me with one hand, he fumbles to open what I’m certain is a door.
The second he puts me down, I plan to run.