Chapter 17 He Wants Me Watched
HE WANTS ME WATCHED
Lachlan carries me into the orangery, where the air is warm and humid. In here, what happened outside seems surreal, like a nightmare I woke up from. The dirt on our clothes and the salt stuck to my skin says it was as real as the scent of citrus in this glass room.
“I need a shower,” I whisper, suddenly embarrassed over my behavior.
I turn my head away. The last person I wanted to see me break down is Lachlan.
Yet. He didn’t shame me or blow me off. He literally saved me from falling to my death.
How careless I’d been. Out of my mind and not thinking.
He didn’t leave me either. He kissed me with more passion than I’ve ever gotten from him, like he was desperate and needed the connection, needed to know I was real and still there.
He asked me what happened and is withholding sex if I don’t tell him.
Not that that is a problem. I vowed to withhold sex from him first. Then he went and made a joke—to cheer me up. Never thought I’d see the day.
Now he’s literally carrying me to my room.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his grip on me tightens as he moves through the castle, and then climbs the massive staircase. So far, no one is around to see us, though I wouldn’t mind running into Kat like this.
“I wasn’t scared,” he says to my surprise. “I was terrified. I thought you were…” His Adam’s apple bobs with a deep swallow.
“I wasn’t.” I don’t want him to think I’m suicidal. He’d probably lock me in an institute. “I was upset, and I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you weren’t.” His tone is harsh, his fingers digging into my side and thigh with bruising force.
I let out a soft yet sardonic laugh. “I knew it wouldn’t last. You’re incapable of being nice for longer than ten minutes.”
His jaw muscle ticks, and he keeps his gaze straight ahead as we climb more stairs. His breathing is barely labored, even though out on the cliff he seemed as out of breath as I was.
He climbs the final set of stairs.
“I guess you don’t want to talk after all.” I sigh and close my eyes. I don’t want to either.
“Lorna,” he says. “Thank you for clearing the house.”
I open my eyes to a tall, slender woman with an athletic figure.
She wears a black collar shirt and black pants.
Her brown hair is twisted into a neat French braid.
I’d guess she’s around my mom’s age, only she looks it whereas Mom appears in her thirties thanks to Botox and lasers.
Mom. My heart constricts, and my features fall.
“This is Emery,” Lachlan says, continuing down the hallway with the housekeeper at his side. “Emery, this is Lorna.”
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Sorry to meet you like this.” She wasn’t the lady who showed me the way out. That woman was younger and had auburn hair.
“Not to worry.” She gives me a kind smile. “You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.” Her Scottish accent is thick but not to the point that I can’t understand her. “A hot shower can do wonders for the soul.”
She eyes Lachlan with a fondness that suggests they’re close. I can’t picture someone as rigid as him forming a bond with a woman so warm and genuine. And yet, she looks at him with both respect and love.
Pippa’s husband treats his staff the way my dad does—like they’re beneath him.
Pippa follows suit, even though she leans heavily on one housekeeper, just like Mom does with Candace.
But what Lorna seems to feel for Lachlan isn’t forced or obligated—it’s earned through mutual kindness.
Which means he has a softer side. A caring side he doesn’t want to show me except in fleeting moments like this and on the plane when he held me like I mattered.
Maybe he keeps it hidden because, unlike Lorna, I haven’t earned it.
If I’m being honest, he’s never actually lied to me.
Withholding information isn’t the same. I was the one who assumed he was gay—he never said a word to confirm it.
I wanted him to be. It made it easier to agree to something I knew I had to go through with.
Dad wouldn’t quit until I was married, and Lachlan didn’t turn me off the way my previous suitors had.
It probably helps that I find him devastatingly handsome.
Regardless, he didn’t trick me into this.
I agreed. I signed the legal documents that stated I would play the role, but instead of upholding my end of the agreement, I ran out of frustration and desperation, needing a break from the chaos and to pretend I had control over my life, no matter how short-lived.
If I don't show Lachlan respect and openness, how can I expect the same in return? My mom devoted herself to my dad. She gave and gave, and she was still discarded. But she was looking for love, and for a time, she had it. I’m more interested in common ground, a friendship that will make living together easier and perhaps help Lachlan to respect me enough to let me live my life like I planned when I agreed to marry him.
It’s not like he needs me for sex. He can get laid anywhere by anyone. Who would deny him?
I almost laugh out loud. Me. That’s who?
The thought of him sleeping with or even kissing someone else unravels something dark inside me. I refuse to admit it’s jealousy.
Lorna opens a door that’s two away from the one that leads to Lachlan’s bedroom. We enter a narrow hallway with two other doors. Passing the first, she opens the second. We enter the dressing room connected to my bedroom.
And here I thought Lachlan’s room was the only way into mine.
The door is hidden behind a full-length mirror on a paneled wall of my dressing room. Cool.
“I’ll start the shower,” Lorna tells Lachlan. She slips into the bathroom. Water sounds and cabinet doors open and close.
Lachlan sets me on the round ottoman in the center of the space. He takes me in, my dress, the dirt, my tangled hair, and tear-streaked face. Emotions swirl in his penetrating eyes. That fear from before, turmoil, and something that resembles helplessness.
“Are you all right to shower?” His accent is still thicker than usual, and his tone is filled with tenderness.
It makes me want that tenderness all the time.
Would he be capable of giving it? If he did, would I want a life with him instead of living apart?
Could I care for him? But that isn’t what this is.
Lachlan isn’t offering me compassion. Fear is guiding him as well as the concern that I’ll do something reckless again.
What happened out there really messed with him.
“I’m fine. I promise.”
He searches my gaze again as if looking for proof that I speak the truth.
Lorna returns. “Everything is ready. Would you like my assistance?” she asks me.
Lachlan straightens to his full height. The loss of his heat and comfort hits me instantly.
I want to pull him back to me. For that reason, I turn away and face Lorna. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
He gives her a look, a silent exchange of something.
She smiles warmly at me. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”
He wants me watched. Understandable, I guess. As long as he doesn’t think I need mental help. I don’t. I’m not suicidal. I’ll have to make that clear, but after I look less like a train wreck and can convince him I’m of sound mind.
Lachlan nods at Lorna then leaves the room headed for the adjoining door to his bedroom.
“Can I pick out something for you to wear while you shower?” Lorna asks. “Dinner is semiformal. I can leave a few choices for you.”
“I’m expected to go to dinner?” After this? I want to rest and collect my thoughts.
“It’s a small gathering. The usual. Chef Henri,” she pronounces it On-ree, “is brilliant. He’s excited to cook for you.”
I nod. How many times did I put on a good face and attend dinner at home when I didn’t want to so dad could show off his “perfect” family? Countless.
“A few options would be wonderful.” The closet is filled with clothes of my style and taste. She can’t go wrong. “Thank you.”
I enter the warm bathroom and get a full view of myself in the mirror before steam obscures the surface.
No wonder Lachlan looked terrified. I am terrifying to behold.
Worse than after my near kidnapping. My pale face, colorless lips, swollen, red-rimmed eyes, tangled, wild hair, and cream satin dress give the illusion of a corpse bride.
Twice now, Lachlan has seen me at my absolute worst. How can he want anything to do with me, let alone be attracted to me?
Maybe this has finished him off for good. The kiss on the cliff wasn’t charged by desire. Anger and control drove him to act that way. The need to assert dominance, which he achieved.
I have to stop offering myself up to him in those moments. Talk about sending mixed signals.
I shower for longer than I intended, staying under the hot water until my skin resembles a prune.
Lorna has towels and a robe ready for me. I just cleaned myself, and yet, I feel dirtier than ever. The dirt is on the inside though and can’t be washed away.
What would my family have been like had I not been born? Better? Worse? The same?
This secret—this truth—explains why I always felt like I didn’t belong. Some part of me knew I was different. A hybrid from cross pollination like a bergamot orange. We have those in the orangery at the estate. Only one tree.
Mom prefers clementines.
I sink onto the makeup chair at the vanity in the bathroom.
How do you apologize for unintentionally causing so much pain in someone’s life?
She could have treated me worse. Adelaide’s stepmom treated her like trash.
Mine treated me like her own, knowing I was another woman’s child.
A woman Dad flaunted in her face. Much like Hunt did to Pippa.
In those regards, my marriage isn’t half as bad.
An ironic laugh escapes me. Really? I’m a prisoner in a castle, and this is better?
Yeah. I’m messed up.