Chapter 21 A Ray of Sun #2
“So much land.” I watch it out the window, spotting clusters of sheep now and then. “This is so different from where I grew up.”
“Greenwich is quite different. But your family has a house on the ocean too, yeah?” he asks, drawing my gaze.
“Nantucket,” I say unable to hide my surprise. “How much do you know about me?”
“Only what Lachlan has told me.”
“Which is?” It might be uncool of me to press his brother for information, but I’m curious if my theory is right.
“He likes you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It wasn’t.” I turn my flaming face away. “And he doesn’t.”
“Do you know what Lachlan does when he doesn’t like a person?”
Murders them. I shake my head and stare at the narrow road out the front window.
“He doesn’t waste his time. He won’t be pleasant for the sake of being pleasant. He won’t even look your way. He analyzes then acts. You throw him off his guard—and his carefully orchestrated plan. It’s good for him. I think being knocked on his ass by you is just what he needs.”
All of this is said with a smile. He loves his brother, respects him. He also genuinely thinks Lachlan likes me. I’m not sure I agree.
Remnants of what looks like a medieval castle draw my gaze. It sits far back from the road. Two walls stand tall, the windows glassless. The rest of the structure is crumbled with a fair amount buried in the tall grass.
“He also said you were like a ray of sun, which I believe he meant physically. He’s not wrong.”
A ray of sun. The sun is yellow or gold. My golden princess he called me. And here goes my heart again, melting like chocolate in a fondue pot. I can fight this. I have to.
We turn down a side road and arrive at an old stone building that could be a two-story house and a matching warehouse that looks kind of like a barn. Duhnill Distillery is in big letters at the roof line. Two red garage-sized doors are on either side of the arched entrance.
A few casually dressed men walk up the short road that connects the house-like building to the warehouse.
“Is this open to the public?” Fear creeps under my skin as flashbacks to the bathroom in the airport invade my mind.
A warm hand covers my fingers that are clenched together on my lap. “It’s all right, Emery. You’re safe. This place has been closed to the public for a while now.”
I didn’t expect to react like this. That attack messed me up more than I thought.
“Put your mac on.”
“My what?”
He points at the raincoat.
“Oh! A mac?” I verify the word as I slide it on.
He grins, but then he’s always grinning. “Now all we have to do is teach you to roll your Rs”
“I can roll my Rs just fine,” I say with what I think is a damn good Scottish accent.
That earns me a wide smile that reminds me of Lachlan. “You are full of surprises, Emery.”
Rory takes me through the distillery where massive barrels called hogshead line the inside.
A giant copper vessel is at the far end and another different looking one is surrounded by a metal catwalk with stairs.
He introduces me to a few burly male workers.
Each explains the process. I can’t understand half of what they’re saying with how thick their accents are.
I get to sample the Scotch Whisky, though, and down each shot with a forced smile as the liquor scorches my throat.
If I were a scotch drinker, I’m sure I’d love this.
It’s not bad, just not my thing. I do, however, have a new appreciation for the scotch making process.
After my sixth shot, I realize the men are looking at me in a funny way. Like I’m a rare necklace out on temporary display.
Rory asks them to stay with me and excuses himself to the office—the house-like building that connects to this part of the warehouse through a door.
I make small talk as best as I can with—what were their names again? Donald, Fenn? Finn? And another with a lot of Rs. Too many for me to understand.
I stumble and right myself before anyone notices. “Is there a place where I can sit down?”
“Certainly,” Donald says.
I follow him to a large office with a window that looks into the distillery and sit on a couch against the far wall. The dark green paint and wood furnishings create a soothing atmosphere.
“Would you like some water?” he asks.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
The door closes, and silence fills the space. Nice.
I rest my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes as the room spins.
Noises stir within the office, but I’m too dizzy to look around. Apparently, I have zero tolerance for Scotch Whisky.
Time passes slowly. I might even drift in and out of sleep.
A woman’s voice has me stirring.
“It’s fine,” she says with an English accent. “You don’t need to explain anything. We talked about this. I’m a big girl.”
“You are. You’re also upset.” Lachlan’s voice jolts me to awareness.
I blink my eyes open.
Kat and my husband stand on the far side of the office, oblivious to me sitting over here.
She’s taller than me by a few inches, which makes her height ideal for him, and her refined appearance matches his style. I always look nice—near perfect when I’m around my family—but I’m stylish and sexy in a way that might seem unrefined to conservative people like her… and him.
Her back is to him while she shuffles through papers on the desk. Is this her office?
He moves to stand behind her and touches her shoulder in an intimate way. “I didn’t plan to bring Emery here. I would have told you if I had out of respect.”
She whirls around as if his touch is too much. “I know. I also knew that no matter how many times we fucked or how incredible it was, the years we shared together would end.”
Maybe she’s not as prim and proper as I thought. And how many years are we talking about? Sharing what? Sex? A relationship?
“I don’t want to make this harder on either of us. That was never my intention. I…” She sighs and touches his sweater near the hem. “I never meant to develop feelings. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I didn’t want to tear my clothes off and have you bend me over this desk the way you used to.”
My stomach rolls. That’s enough of show-and-tell for me. I stand but end up falling back onto my ass with an oof.
“Emery?” Lachlan stares at me with confusion and anger. “Fuck,” he hisses and stalks toward the couch.
“No, no.” I slur and wave him off as I slide to the far side and try to stand again.
Rory opens the door and takes in the situation. His features fall. “Fuck.”
“You’re damn right.” Lachlan glares at him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
“You told me to entertain her.” He shrugs.
So this was a set up. I knew it! With the help of the arm of the couch, I finally stand. The room tilts and my stomach sloshes. No. Not here. I gag and cover my mouth to keep from vomiting.
“Trashcan!” Lachlan orders.
My eyes blur as I fight the soup and Scotch Whisky at the back of my throat.
“Here.” Lachlan reaches me, holding out the small trashcan.
As hard as I try not to get sick in front of an audience, especially this audience, I fail. Clumsily, I snatch the trashcan, drop onto the couch, and place it between my legs a second before vomiting.
It burns and smells. Lachlan crouches near me trying to help me hold back my hair. If I could, I’d shove him away.
“Stop,” I murmur as my stomach spasms, threatening to come up next.
“Christ, how much scotch did you give her?” Lachlan calls out.
“No more than usual,” Rory answers.
“Usual for us,” Lachlan barks. “Not for her.”
“Oh god. I can smell it,” Kat says and gags. “I have to get out of here.”
Kill me.
Lachlan hands me some tissues. I take them and wipe my mouth. After a deep inhale, I wipe the sweat from my forehead and straighten.
“Better?” Lachlan asks.
I nod and avert my gaze, the humiliation too much. This is the final straw. One way or another, I’m leaving this castle.
Lachlan takes a bottled water from the coffee table. Guess Donald brought it while I was sleeping.
He twists the top off and hands it to me. “Sip it.”
“Fuck off,” I whisper but follow his orders. I’d kill for a toothbrush and privacy.
Lachlan sits beside me and puts his arm around me. “Can you walk?”
I weakly push his hands away and slowly stand. My stomach doesn’t roll, but I can’t say I’m at full capacity. Like a granny with bad knees, I creep forward.
“Dammit, let me help you.” Lachlan appears behind me.
I hold up a hand for him to back off. I can’t with him right now.
I hate that I’m jealous at how effortlessly Kat seems to move through life.
Now that I know she’s some vixen who’s been sleeping with Lachlan for years I feel even more inadequate.
I hate that, too, because I was just starting to feel differently.
I shouldn’t feel anything for Lachlan. That was the plan.
Here I’m his arranged wife forced upon him by my father. But Kat was someone he chose. For years. And there’s Wes’s sister, Tessa, who means something to him too.
I can’t compete with these women. I don’t want to.
I want to be left alone. I want what I thought I agreed to in the pool house.
And I want this hold Lachlan has on my heart to go away.
It’s nothing I’ve ever known, not even with Gabe.
I don’t like it. I didn’t give it to him.
He took it with his attention, his attraction to me, his orgasmic touch, and his vulnerable moments.
I haven’t even made it to the desk in the office when Lachlan is at my back, stopping me with his hands on my arms, and his mouth at my ear. “Let me help you or I’ll carry you out of this office and to the car for everyone to see.”
I almost fight him on this, but it won’t look any better with me crawling like a snail through the massive building.
For the helluvit, I ask, “Can you clear the warehouse?”
“Rory.” He nods at his brother, who’s watching me with concern.
He leaves the office with me shocked that Lachlan agreed.
“Why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Accommodate me?” Before he can answer, I add, “Don’t say because I’m your wife. It means nothing.”
“It was supposed to,” he murmurs, confusing me like always.
“What?” I don’t dare turn my head.
He’s too close behind me, his hands still on my arms, supporting me as much as I hate to admit.
“It was supposed to mean nothing.”
Here we go again. “I don’t believe you.”
He doesn’t say anything, just breathes on my hair.
“If I weren’t here, you could have had your ex right on the desk like she wanted.” My stomach turns, not with vomit but with disgust. Certainly not with heartache. Not for him.
“I wouldn’t have touched her.”
“You touched her for years!” I don’t even like myself right now. I try to inch away.
He keeps me in place and moves so close his body presses against mine. His lips are on my hair at the top of my head. “We need to straighten out a few things.”
“No, we don’t. We need space.”
“What if I can’t give that to you? What if I don’t want to?”
If I didn’t just witness his interaction with Kat, and I weren’t gross with sweat and vomit mouth, this might have been a turning point for us. But this isn’t a romance novel. We’re not main characters on the verge of falling for each other.
“Did you love her?” I ask, not to hurt myself but to weed out some of his character.
“Tessa?”
“No. Kat. The woman who was just here.”
“That was Tessa. Her name is Katessa.”
My brain connects the dots. She didn’t want me to know who she was when we met, in case I’d heard about them being together. On the plane, he talked about her like he cared. I thought they dated. All this time she was the Tessa I’d heard about. Wes’s sister. No wonder he hates me.
“Did you love her?” It’ll hurt to hear this, but it will also clarify something.
“No.” His breath blows my hair at the top of my head.
I’m right again. He was with Kat—Tessa—for years yet he never fell for her, proving he’s incapable of love. Why does that leave me disappointed?
Rory returns. “Everyone is gone. I moved the car to the back entrance so it’s closer.”
“Thank you.” Lachlan nudges me to shuffle forward.
“When we get back, I want to be alone.”
His grip tightens on my arm, but he relaxes it quickly. “Fine.”