Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
ASHER
“Isobel texted me today,” Mercury says as we walk hand in hand along the forested trail. The River Alffic glimmers in the distance, and the smell of pine fills the air.
It would all feel incredibly romantic if it weren’t for the paparazzi trailing behind us. The rocky terrain of the trail has been a bit of an obstacle, as they jostle their equipment bags and cameras, hoping we’ll take a break so they can get the perfect shot.
We haven’t.
My mother may want us to be a distraction for these tossers, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for them.
“Oh?” It’s the first time she’s mentioned Isobel since that day at the garden party, when she drunkenly apologized to us and begged Mercury to be her friend.
I selfishly hoped it might be the last.
“She wants to get together for that girls’ night she mentioned at the garden party.”
I can’t help but smirk when I glance at her. She’s dressed in dark denim and sturdy leather boots today. The wool sweater and Dubarry coat give her a distinctly Scottish look.
It’s got me thinking all sorts of inappropriate things.
Things I want but shouldn’t.
“You don’t sound so sure about it,” I reply, glancing back to catch the glare of a camera lens.
“I just don’t know whether I trust her intentions,” she says with a frown. “Do you?”
I choose my words carefully. “I think I’m a little more jaded than you are after some of the shit I’ve been through.
” Being constantly betrayed by people you know and trust, and stalked and preyed on by everyone else, will do that to a guy.
“But I don’t want you to cut yourself off from the possibility of making friends while you’re here.
Being stuck at Blackstone all the time can be isolating.
Trust me, I know,” I say with a sad smile.
“So if you want to invite her over one evening, I’ll support it.
I might even order you take-away from the pub in town. ”
“Wow.” She grins. “You really are the full package, aren’t you?” Then she lets out a dreamy sigh. “I am kind of dying for some greasy fries after weeks of salmon and filet mignon your mom puts on the menu.”
“It used to be worse. Even stuffier, if you can believe it. She’s lightened up over the years. More so since you arrived, I think.”
“Really?” She perks up.
“She’s not putting pasta on the menu for anyone else, love.”
That blush creeps up her cheeks, and she smiles softly. “I think there’s some goodness in her. Deep down, I think she believes everything she does comes from a place of love.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” I manage to say.
“No,” she says, shaking her head and squeezing my hand. “It doesn’t. Nor does it excuse the damage she’s done to you.”
It’s nothing I haven’t told myself a dozen times, but hearing her say it is oddly validating.
For so long, the media has portrayed my childhood as a rosy, privileged existence, and in many ways it was.
I’m the only son of Scotland’s wealthiest earl.
I wanted for nothing. My parents gave me an excellent education and ensured every need was met.
Except for one.
For eighteen years, I felt emotionally bankrupt living in that drafty old house.
“She’s never told me she loves me,” I confess. “Neither of them has.”
Mercury comes to a complete stop in the middle of the trail, her eyes wide with compassion. “Never?”
I shake my head. “They both live their private lives as they do their public lives. No outward displays of affection, no emotional outbursts, and they always maintain decorum.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” I agree. “And for a child, it’s confusing.”
She rubs her thumb over mine. “Of course it is. Kids need the comfort of a simple hug after a bad day or the reassurance that their parents will always love them, even if they screw up.”
I stare at her, a strange flutter in my belly, and then suddenly blurt out, “You’d make a good mum.” Her eyes widen, probably in horror at my random outburst, a split second before I add, “Not now—obviously. I just meant…”
Fucking hell, Ash…
The corner of her mouth turns up. “I don’t know,” she muses.
“The surprise-baby trope is one of my favorites. Could be an interesting twist for those guys over there.” She motions toward the paparazzi, who are doing a piss-poor job of hiding behind the bushes.
They think that by concealing themselves, they’ll make us forget they’re around and act more naturally.
Like that’s possible.
“How about we just give them an interesting twist now?” I say, a second before grabbing her hand and sprinting for the trees.
She squeals, then bursts into laughter.
I look over my shoulder, a wide smile on my face. God, she’s gorgeous. The wind is blowing through her dark hair. Her cheeks are pink from the slight chill in the air, and her dark-blue eyes brim with happiness.
“You’re gonna give us away,” I tease.
“Pretty sure you’ve already done that when you broke into a sprint.” She huffs. “Also, how far exactly are we running? Not all of us have gym memberships.”
“It’s adorable that you think I can go to a public gym.”
“It’s adorable that you think I would even go to the gym at all.”
“See?” I say over my shoulder as I turn. She collides with me, but the firm bark of a pine tree keeps us from toppling over. “Match made in heaven.”
Her eyes grow serious for a moment, then she kisses me. It’s desperate and rough, and I lose myself in the feel of her mouth on mine. My fingers dig into her long hair while my other hand slides down to grip her ass.
“You make me feel reckless,” I murmur against her lips.
“You make me feel everything,” she answers back.
I’m about five seconds away from shoving my hand down the front of her jeans when I hear the click of a camera.
“Fuck,” I mutter when we break apart. There’s no way I’m going to wrangle that photo away from the lucky motherfucker who took it.
That’ll make him a fortune.
Before I have a chance to think about it further, my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket.
There’s no way Hendrix could have seen that photo yet, is there?
My idiotic fears are replaced by new ones as I pull out my phone and see it’s my mother calling. Mercury steps back but keeps hold of one of my hands.
“Hello?”
“Are you in public?” she asks in response to my generic greeting.
“Yes, we’re taking a lovely stroll along the River Alffic.” I keep my tone light and casual. I feel like I’m speaking in fucking code.
“So you can’t say anything specific. I understand.” While I’ve turned my back on the cameras, making it harder for them to eavesdrop on our conversation, they still could listen in with a microphone.
Ask me how I know?
“Glad we’re on the same page,” I reply. Mercury raises a brow, clearly not understanding my vague responses.
That’s, unfortunately, a good thing.
It means the paps won’t either.
“Thankfully, I just need you to listen for the most part.”
“All right.”
“We’ve arranged to move your father’s care to the estate.” I start to respond, but she quickly shuts me up. “No specifics, remember?”
Right. Fuck.
I press my lips together in frustration.
“This is a good thing, Asher. He will have round-the-clock care without the risk of the press swarming the hospital. He’s safer at home.”
I have a million questions, but I slump my shoulders in defeat. “Okay,” I simply respond.
“You and Mercury can also return home. No need to keep parading you in front of the press when you have a full calendar of events awaiting you.”
Again, I want to respond, but I hold my tongue.
“The nurse just walked in. I have to go, but we’ll chat later,” she says, then hangs up before I can say goodbye.
Love you too, Mother…
I let out a frustrated sigh, then glance over at Mercury. Although the last twenty-four hours have been a bit challenging, with the constant barrage of press and a security detail at our heels, it still feels like the first time we’ve truly been on our own.
No personal assistants or valets.
No nagging countesses
No sick fathers.
“Give me another moment?” I ask.
Without even questioning me, she gives an encouraging nod. I pull out my phone again, and then I do something truly wild. I text my mother. I’m not even sure she’ll respond. She probably thinks texting is below her.
Me
I need another day. No press. No security. Mercury and I need a break. Please, Mum.
Maybe it’s the please at the end, but a moment later, my jaw nearly hits the forest floor when I get a text back from her.
Mother
I’ll make it happen.
She surprises me even further when a moment later, she sends a follow-up text informing me that her press secretary will message me with the details within the hour.
I stare at it, a little dumbfounded, then look up at Mercury, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “Didn’t you say something about french fries?”