Chapter 15 He’s About to Shove Me to my Death
HE’S ABOUT TO SHOVE ME TO MY DEATH
A massive rectangular room with two fireplaces—one at each end—and a wall of windows overlooking the ocean spreads before me.
The color scheme is bronze and gold with deep blue accents.
Despite the rugs, wallpaper, leather furniture, and thick drapery, something about the luxurious room feels impersonal.
Only three items hang on the wall. An artful painting of the castle and cliffs is positioned above the massive black wood carved bed.
Over each of the fireplaces hangs tapestries with what I assume is the family crest—a castle with a sword, belt, and crown.
Each has the same words that are tattooed on Lachlan’s torso. Fortis Et Fidus.
The room is impeccably clean and tidy as if no one lives in it.
Nothing personal decorates the space other than a picture frame of a man and woman and a young Lachlan.
The eyes are a dead giveaway. They match the older man’s—his father?
If so, then this woman is his mother. She looks graceful and beautiful with Lachlan’s same dark chocolate hair.
Her eyes are green like Rory’s and seem to carry the weight of the world.
My gaze goes back to Lachlan in his school uniform.
I’d guess he was fifteen or sixteen and wow.
No girl would have been safe around him.
He stood with the confidence of someone who knew he could get whoever he wanted.
He also looked at ease and happy. I don’t think the man he is now knows those two things anymore.
Now, his eyes carry the same hardship shown in his mother’s image.
The door opens, drawing my gaze. I flinch and watch as Lachlan walks in. At first, he doesn’t see me. His focus is on the desk near the seating area by one of the fireplaces. He drops an envelope on it and removes his suit jacket. Next, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
I should clear my throat or do something to make myself known. Instead, I stand there frozen as he strips. With his back to me, he removes his shirt then sniffs the air.
He freezes abruptly, then slowly turns to face me, his gaze dark. “How’d you get in here?”
Yep. As suspected, Lachlan doesn’t like people in his personal space. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want him in my bedroom back at the estate, but he brought me here.
“I’m your wife,” I remind him. “Where else would I be?”
He stalks toward me, tugging his shirt on and buttoning it haphazardly. “You’d be in your room.”
“Well, you didn’t show me where that is.” I plant my hands on my hips. Two can play the pissy attitude game.
He stops a foot away from me and stares down, taking me in from head to toe. His jaw muscle ticks as if the sight of me makes him angrier.
I’m starting to think his attraction to me is what enrages him. It also makes me want to attract him more—purely to mess with him.
He glances behind me at the bed then at me and at the bed again.
If he thinks I’m going to melt under his touch like I did before, he’s wrong.
When his gaze connects with mine as if he’s still debating whether to throw me onto the mattress, I raise my brows. “My bedroom.”
His jaw muscle flexes more, then he turns and walks to the far side, past the way he came in. He stops at a door and glances at me. “Are you coming?”
“Where to?”
“To your room,” he says with agitation.
I fold my arms. “Ask me nicely, and I will.”
He inhales a deep breath, his gaze on the ceiling or heaven as if he’s begging the Lord for patience. “Would you like to see your room?”
Not exactly what I meant, but his tone has less bite.
I walk over with my shoulders back and chin held high, just as my mother taught me, and join him at the door.
“After you.” He gestures to it.
For a brief moment, I imagine the door leads to open air and he’s about to shove me to my death.
Slowly, I turn the knob and push open the door. My jaw drops. I blink and blink, certain my eyes are playing a trick on me.
The room is spacious, done in shades of silver and light blue that are fit for a snow queen.
The damask wallpaper shimmers like it’s covered in snowflakes.
The ivory wood four-poster bed has plush bedding in white and light blue.
Windows, with a view of the wild ocean, flank a huge marble fireplace.
The cool colors are warmed by the glow of a golden chandelier that hangs above a regency style sitting area anchored by a cream furry rug.
If I were a dog, I’d be all over that rug.
It begs to be laid on. I might snuggle on it myself—when Lachlan isn’t watching, of course.
The room is exquisite, but I school my features, not wanting Lachlan to know I’m impressed despite my initial jaw drop. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I peruse the room, absorbing the fresh flower bouquets and gilded trinkets throughout.
A gold framed painting of the castle hangs above the bed. It looms in the distance beyond a garden filled with white flowers and artfully sculpted topiaries.
“Whose room was this?” Do I want to know? It’s luxury and one hundred percent feminine. A lady’s room.
“No one’s,” Lachlan answers, his tone even.
“I don’t believe you.”
“No one has ever stayed in here. You’re the first. At least, since my family has lived in the castle.”
Still skeptical, I ask, “Who designed it?”
“Why?” He walks past the sitting area and stops near one of the large windows.
“It was designed for a woman.”
“It was designed for you.”
I laugh.
“You don’t believe me,” he states rather than asks, his tone calm but also condescending.
“No. You never planned to bring me here.”
He sighs and frowns, his gaze back on the ocean view. “She did. My mother. She wanted you here.”
Shock grips me. “She did?”
“Yes.”
“How’d she know me?”
“I told her about you—showed her your picture.”
I cringe. Not my high school graduation photo. “What picture?”
“The ones from your social media accounts.”
“You stalked my Insta,” I say aghast while wondering what pictures he showed her. Now I find myself wanting to impress a woman I’ll never meet. “What… what did she think?”
“She thought you were beautiful. And that you looked like you knew how to have fun.”
More shock, but also my heart warms. “She said that?”
He nods and glances at the view again, sliding his hands in his pockets. His somber demeanor catches me off guard. He cared for his mother dearly. He feels her loss.
“I bet I would have liked her.”
“You would have.” His features soften with nostalgia.
It makes me think of my mom and her confession. I need to call my sister to see if she knows anything about this. If she does, I’ll be furious. My family is far from normal, but to be betrayed by your mother and sister in this way… that’s a different kind of hurt.
Lachlan strolls to another door and opens it. “I had this filled on the flight here.”
I walk over. Again, my jaw drops. A variety of clothes, from formal to casual, fill the dressing room. My eyes narrow. “Whose are these?”
“Yours,” he says as if it’s obvious. “They’re new, and in your size and style.”
Upon a closer inspection, I can tell they are all items I would wear. “How’d you know what to buy?”
“My assistant got information from the personal shoppers you used at the hotel.”
Clever. The suitcase I got from Reveena rests on a top shelf. The clothes I bought must be here too. Knowing that doesn’t comfort me like my own belongings from home would.
I face him from where he stands near the door, grateful but also angry. “Thank you.” My tone reflects my mood.
“You don’t like them.”
“I like them fine. But you wouldn’t have had to buy them had you let me pack my own things, or better yet, returned me home.”
He relaxes against the doorframe and folds his arms, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “To the place you hate?”
He keeps pointing that out.
I can’t argue it’s not true, so I sigh. “Do I get a new phone? I lost mine when I was drugged. And a laptop,” I add. “I have research to do for my business, which I still plan to open once my sentence here is over.”
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me for a while, amusement dancing in his eyes. Finally, he says, “I’ll have new ones sent up.”
“Am I bound to this room?”
“Of course not.”
“I suppose getting a tour is out of the question.”
He straightens from the door and slides his hands in his pockets, seeming much more relaxed. “How did you find my room?”
“Some woman.” I shrug. “Kat.”
He stiffens, but it’s gone quickly, and his shoulders relax.
“Dinner is at 8:30. I’ll send Lorna up to give you a tour after you’ve showered and changed.
Everything you should need is in the bathroom.
” He gestures to another door in the dressing room before ambling back into the bedroom without a glance in my direction.
“No goodbye?” I call out with annoyance. “Do you even know how to be a husband?”
He pauses and turns his head, giving me his profile. “Not any more than you know how to be a wife.”
I let out a heated breath. “I’m not a wife. I’m a prisoner.”
His features shift with thought and possibly anguish. “Perhaps in time, you’ll come to enjoy the castle and all it has to offer.”
“Why are you… calmer now?” Fickle still but less combative. Is it this place?
“You’re safe here. I can relax.” He continues to the door as if the conversation is over but stops and looks over his shoulder before leaving. His eyes connect with mine. “For the record, I’m generally a calm person. You, however, bring out a side of me that’s hard to tame.”
His gaze slides over the length of my body as if he can see through my clothes and wants to devour me.
Tingles race throughout my body and settle in my core. No one has ever looked at me the way he does. It makes me wonder if I react the way I do for that reason or if it’s just Lachlan and his sexual appeal that turns me on.
Abruptly, he pivots and disappears into his bedroom, closing the door a bit too hard. At least it would appear I affect him too. Good. It’s only fair. We may not like each other, but we want each other, even if it’s against our will.
This man, my husband, might be the death of me.