Chapter 3
Lucy
Jamie stopped the Jeep at a low wall to the side of the castle. He got out and George jumped into the driver’s seat, looked at me as if to say, come on! and followed Jamie. At least someone was pleased to see me even if he did have four legs and a tail.
I opened the door and stepped out, and the icy wind cut right through me in spite of his jacket. Jamie looked so tall and solid. Serious. I pushed down the vulnerability. What had I expected after three years?
His less than welcoming reaction was only making me more eager to get this thing over with now. I shouldn’t have been waiting for a sign from him, or his people. I should have done this ages ago.
He said, ‘Come on, this way.’
He went under the arch and I followed him into what looked like an old stable-yard.
There were stables but they looked as if they’d been empty for some time.
Jamie was shouldering his way into a door that led into a boot room.
I closed the door behind me. It was still cold in the house – castle – but at least it wasn’t as cold.
He put down my bag and took off his hat and I could see that his hair was as thick and messy as I remembered with that tendency to curl.
It looked longer. He kicked off his boots and then I fully noticed the worn jeans hugging his muscular buttocks and a woollen jumper that did little to hide his broad chest and powerful arms.
He looked at me and frowned, ‘You’re shivering.’
I was? I noticed it then, the tremors running through me.
It wasn’t the cold, because I had his jacket, it was the shock that I was actually face-to-face with my husband again, three years after we’d got married in a haze of amazing-sex pheromones and giddy recklessness and maybe a smidge too much of alcohol.
He’d been at a wedding that I was working at as part of the events team.
We’d bonded over our mutual lack of faith in the whole wedding thing.
And Happy Ever Afters. A bit ironic as that was literally my job but as I said – I liked to think it gave me an edge.
An edge that Jamie had ultimately seen right through, shining a forensic light on everything I’d believed about myself.
The connection we’d made had been instant and visceral. I’d never felt anything like it. The fact that he’d been wearing a kilt the first time we’d met may have had some influence on the overall impression.
When the wedding was over we’d both had a couple of days free and we’d spent them together, mostly holed up in the hotel bedroom, either his or mine, coming out for food or to throw some money in the slot machines.
He’d said to me on the street, when we’d gone out at one point to breathe actual fresh air, and to remind ourselves if it was day or night, ‘You’re so full of it, Collins, I bet that underneath all that snark about weddings that you’d secretly love to get married.’
I could still remember the way I’d felt that like a punch to a raw nerve because in spite of my avowed aversion to marriage I had harboured a little shameful fantasy of an idyllic wedding day and finding that one true love forever.
I’d spluttered at him, ‘Don’t be ridiculous.
Last thing I want. I’m going to have my own business and that’s what’s important. ’
He’d looked at me and I could remember thinking how gorgeous he was against the backdrop of the fountains of the Bellagio. Then he’d said, ‘Prove it. Marry me now.’
I’d gaped at him. ‘How does that prove anything?’
He’d nodded. ‘Well, if it means nothing, then what’s the big deal?’
In that moment, as he’d been looking at me, eyes dark and molten, I’d known that I would marry him, but not to prove a point. Because of something much deeper and terrifying. I’d only spent one night with him by then, but already felt connected to him in a way I’d never felt with anyone else.
And then I’d realised he was bluffing me. I’d narrowed my gaze on him and had bluffed him back. ‘Right so, come on, let’s find the nearest chapel.’
He’d blinked at me and I’d crowed at him, ‘I knew it, you’re all talk.’
Then a look of determination had come over his face and he’d taken my hand and flagged down a cab.
‘No I’m not.’ And before I’d known it we’d been in the clerk’s office obtaining a marriage licence and then standing outside one of the iconic Vegas wedding chapels where he’d said, ‘Look, maybe this has gone far enough...’
But something slightly desperate inside me – a need to forge an indelible connection with this man - had galvanised me and I’d said, ‘Chickening out, Jamie?’
He’d looked at me and let out a bark of laughter. And then he’d walked up the white-fenced path with me in tow saying, ‘Let’s see how brave you are at the altar.’
We’d goaded each other all the way to saying actual legally binding vows in front of Elvis.
And then as far as ordering the marriage certificate.
Just in case we hadn’t made it completely official.
A truth I’d not really acknowledged until afterwards was that we hadn’t even been all that drunk by then. So we’d been in our full faculties.
Jamie was handing me something and I looked at it blankly for a moment.
A jumper. His jumper. He was wearing another long-sleeved top underneath.
A thermal? It was flimsy enough to hint at the musculature of his chest underneath.
He said, ‘Take off the jacket and put this on, Lucy, you’re freezing. ’
Scotland. We were in Scotland. Not Las Vegas. I took his jacket off and put it on a hook and then I pulled the jumper over my head. It was warm from his body heat and instinctively I closed my eyes and breathed his scent in.
It drowned me, falling to the tops of my thighs, sleeves falling over my hands. I rolled them up.
‘Take your shoes off and put these on.’ He was handing me a pair of woollen socks. I slipped off the high heels and pulled on the socks.
‘Come on,’ he said gruffly, ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’
Did he remember that I could barely function in the morning unless I’d had my coffee? After all, we’d only spent two mornings together...
I followed him into a huge flagstoned kitchen. Warmth emanated from the biggest AGA I’d ever seen at one end and George was already laid out in front of it. I gravitated towards it because the chill coming from Jamie was almost as biting as the one outside.