Chapter 14 #2
She nods, and I point to the off-the-beaten-path up ahead. “Sometimes,” I answer. “But it wouldn’t change anything. I’d still be me, heir to Dunloch. I’d still be expected to perform the duties required of me.”
“Just without the fancy house.”
“And the cottage, don’t forget about that.”
She snickers. “How could I forget about our first home?”
Our first home. Why do those three words make my stomach flip upside down?
“Just up here,” I say, guiding her to the turnoff.
It’s a bit hidden and overgrown. Mac likes to fish out here, which is the only reason the path still exists.
My parents would have forgotten about it altogether, since their main focus has been maintaining the land and gardens that surround the estate for years now.
Must put the money where people will see it.
Back when my grandfather was the earl, we had livestock and horses. Sheep and cattle roamed the land. Staff grew and harvested vegetables and grain. He invited the villagers up to the house every year for St. Andrew’s Day for a big feast and celebration.
I’ve always wondered why my father never carried on the tradition.
Mercury brakes a little too hard, and we quickly come to an abrupt stop. The seat belt presses into my chest, and I groan as she grimaces and apologizes. “Sorry!” she says over her shoulder. “My car at home isn’t this touchy.”
“It is a little fiddly,” I agree.
“Fiddly?” Her mouth tips up in amusement.
“Yes, fiddly. You know, sensitive, tricky, difficult?”
“Oh, I know what the word means,” she assures me with a snort. “I’ve just never heard you say it. It doesn’t sound very rock and roll.”
“What if I used it in a sentence like, ‘This zipper on your dress is acting a bit fiddly, and I can’t wait any longer, so I’m just going to rip it off you instead.’” Her gaze widens, and I grin. “Does that sound more…rock and roll?”
“Um…yep,” she says, barely able to speak.
“Excellent.” I chuckle. I’ve made thousands of women blush throughout my career. I’ve seen women get so flustered in my presence that they forget their own names. But nothing makes me feel like an actual king than when I render Mercury Creed speechless. “Ready for a picnic?”
With backpack in tow, we both step out of the Rover and head toward the loch. It’s on the small side, although quite a bit larger than the wee pond by the cottage that’s barely bigger than a puddle.
The sun is out, a rarity in late spring. I pull out a large wool blanket and set it down next to the water. We both kick off our shoes, and while Mercury settles in, I start pulling out the food.
As I finish laying out the cheeses and fruits, I find her staring at the water, leaning back on her elbows. She turns her head toward me. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Aye, it’s always been a favorite spot of mine,” I say, reaching out to pluck a daffodil from nearby and hand it to her.
She smiles and tucks it behind her ear. “So is this where you bring all your fake girlfriends?”
“No.” I grin. “Just the special ones.”
“Did Hendrix ever tell you that Presley and Hollis faked their marriage in the beginning?”
“You mean that quickie wedding in Vegas wasn’t real?” I pretend to be shocked, making her laugh. “I think I heard your dad or Cash talking about it when the invites for their renewal ceremony went out, but I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.”
“Hollis was Hendrix’s best friend in high school. He even lived with us for a while, and I think he and Presley sort of had a crush on each other or something.”
My gut tightens because I see the similarities. Does she?
“After they reconnected, the two of them met up in Vegas, where they got drunk and married.”
“Why did they stay married? Is Hollis a duke or something?”
Mercury snorts, shaking her head. “The bar was struggling, and she thought Hollis could help her out of a jam. I think there’s more to it, but she won’t tell me.”
“She doesn’t trust you?”
“No, she does. I think she’s just embarrassed. She’s always struggled with a fear of inadequacy, which is crazy. She has this notion that, out of the five of us, she’s the family fuck-up.”
“That is crazy. She’s just as capable and smart as the rest of you.”
“She is.” She smiles, pleased with my assessment of her big sister.
“She started working at the bar at eighteen, and from day one, she set out to prove to our dad she could run it on her own. It took a lot of work and several years, but she finally got her wish, and now the bar is flourishing. I know it wasn’t easy, but I’ve always looked up to her for that, for her strength and resilience. ”
“I think those are traits all of you possess. I’ve seen it in Hendrix and Zander. You. It must be a Creed thing.”
“Maybe.”
“Speaking of Creeds,” I say, my eyes roaming over her body. “Where’s your tattoo?”
“My tattoo?” She plays dumb.
“Your family tattoo,” I press, knowing she has to have one.
All the Creeds do—even Zander, who was basically adopted into the family.
“Hendrix’s is obvious and hard to miss, right there on his forearm.
The same goes for Zander. Presley’s is a little daintier but just as obvious. Yours? Not so much.”
“Maybe I don’t have one.”
My brow rises. “I highly doubt that.”
She shrugs. “It’s not a requirement. It’s not like they would kick me out if I didn’t get our last name tattooed on my body.”
I don’t know why, but the idea of a secret tattoo hidden somewhere under her clothes makes my dick start to twitch.
What can I say? I’m a big fan of tattoos.
“No, but you love your family. I can’t see you refusing to partake in something that connects all of you together.”
“Is that why you have your coat of arms on your chest?”
“Partially. It’s to remind me where I come from,” I say with a smirk. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“What if I just show you?”
She rises from her spot on the blanket and shit, I think I might be the one who’s blushing now. She tugs off the cashmere cardigan, revealing the yellow sundress underneath. It’s sleeveless and elegant. Demure, even. My thoughts are far from it.
I’ve seen her bare legs, arms, and shoulders. I know exactly where that tattoo isn’t, so I understand what’s about to happen and that I should probably stop it. Or at least turn around.
But I don’t.
I just look up at her and watch as she grips the hem of that dress, pulls it over her head, and tosses it onto the blanket.
Fuuuck.
“Find it yet?”
I double blink as I try not to stare. But, god, I can’t help it. Pale-yellow lace covers her perfect, perky tits. I want to lick and suck every fucking inch.
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Kind of distracted, if I’m being honest.”
But as soon as I say it, I spot those five letters of her last name written out in delicate cursive down the left side of her ribcage, right below her bra.
Rising from my spot on the blanket, I take a step toward her and run my thumb over it.
“That’s a bold choice for your first tattoo. ” Ribs hurt like a fucking bitch.
She shivers. “Myles got his here because he needed to be able to cover it for roles. I liked the idea of it being hidden under my clothes. Like a secret only I know about.”
“And me,” I remind her.
“Can I trust you to keep it?”
“I don’t know.” I grin. “Maybe I should give you a secret of mine just in case.”
I start to unbutton my shirt.
If she’s unsure where this is leading, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she watches with rapt attention as I unfasten each and every button until the shirt parts, and her eyes fall on my naked chest.
I’ve never had an issue with my body. I have a wicked fast metabolism, and I keep in shape. Having women fall all over themselves for years has a way of boosting your confidence too.
But nothing has ever made me feel sexier than the way Mercury looks at me. She watches as I slowly pull off my shirt, one shoulder at a time. Her eyes roam over every inch of skin. Every defined muscle. Every tattoo.
But there’s one she hasn’t seen.
“I’m gonna have to take off my pants,” I warn her, just before I drop them, leaving me standing there in just a pair of boxers.
Her lips twitch, but her eyes stay fixed on my face. “Is this just an excuse to trick me into seeing your dick?”
“Believe me, love. I wouldn’t need to trick you,” I say, my gravely tone deceiving my emotions. “But exactly how were you planning on going skinny-dipping?”
Her lips press together as her face flushes. “I’m kidding, Merc. I was planning on turning around when you undressed. I can be a gentleman when I want to be.”
“Only when you want to be?”
“Believe me, love. There are times when you don’t always want a man to act like a gentleman.”
She looks up at me, wide-eyed and curious. “Like when?”
Like when he’s got you bent over the back of a sofa or his tongue buried so deep in your pussy he can barely breathe.
The way she’s looking up at me…
I need a distraction.
I need a distraction now.
I grab her around the waist, lift her into my arms bride style, and then break into a sprint. “Like…right about now!” She squeals as we both hit the freezing water at the same time in nothing but our undergarments.
Not exactly skinny-dipping, but much, much safer.
Given how this day is going, if I got this girl naked, there’s no telling what idiotic choices I’d make. My brain would probably short-circuit, and then my dick would end up making all the decisions from there out.
We’d both be doomed.
“Oh my god, it’s so cold!” she yelps, a hint of laughter in her voice as we break apart.
“I thought you’d be used to it. The Pacific is colder than this,” I say, then dunk my head under.
“I haven’t swum in the ocean since I was a kid.”
There’s a touch of sadness in her voice, and I know it’s one of those things she worries she’s missed out on. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this, then. Swimming in a loch in Scotland is way better than some beach in Malibu.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. “You think so?”