Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Four months ago, after trying to destroy Catriona’s wedding to Lord Callum Bruce, Darcy and her lies and backstabbing finally crossed an unforgivable line. And finally, Lachlan saw the light. He banished her from his castle, his lands, and his life, and the marriage was annulled. When it happened, I wasn’t sure what was to happen to me. After all, for the last few years, I’d actually been living abroad—sent to Paris by Darcy to live with her cousin. And with her now banished, and Catriona living with Callum, her husband, where exactly would I be going?
As it turned out, nowhere. Lachlan made it quite clear that this was my home, and that I could call it that for as long as I like. And so, for the last four months, I’ve been living at Castle McDougall, practically alone with the one man who’s invaded my every fantasy and fever dream since I can remember.
And now, we’re here, in his study, with those words still hanging in the air as if my fantasies have broken free into the real world.
“Her people—well, your people,” Lachlan growls. “Have made a claim that her—” he scowls. “Her banishment was without proper notice or…” his look darkens even more. “Or without proper compensation.”
My brow shoots up.
“She wants to be paid?”
I cringe a little. Darcy’s crassness and rudeness has frequently embarrassed me, but this one cuts deeper. Maybe because extorting the very people who gave us a home for all those years is just wrong, especially when Lachlan had every right, for years, to get rid of her.
“She does,” he growls. “As does your grandfather, Lord Campbell, and they’ve managed to rally a few of the other Campbell households, in Scotland, in England, and those living in France, to their cause. They want war, Iona.”
I pale, turning to shake my head as I look into the fire.
“Which brings me to why I’ve asked you here.”
His voice rumbles over me, and suddenly, I shiver as those first five words tease through my head.
I’m going to marry you.
Not “I want to marry you,” not “do you want to.” Just “I’m going to.”
I shiver.
Any other man, and it might be crude, or offensive even. But not Lachlan. Not with the way those eyes blaze into me. Not with the way just thinking of him brings a sinful heat to my body.
“Why me?” I say quietly, chancing a look back into his eyes.
Big mistake.
I falter, blushing red and biting my lip the second his eyes latch onto mine, holding my gaze unflinchingly and with this power that makes my very knees shake.
“You’re a Campbell,” he says quietly, his eyes burning right into mine. “It won’t appease them all, but I know it’ll appease enough of them do stop a damned war.”
I nod, only half aware of what he’s even saying, since the blushing girl in me is still fixated on those five little words.
“It’s just politics, Iona,” he says gruffly, his eyes holding mine without flinching—the firelight dancing in them. “And again, I apologize for springing this on you, but we’re out of time, and this is the only option.”
I reach for his wine again, this time without being prompted, or without asking, and I can see the hint of a smirk on his face as I take a big gulp.
“When?” I manage to choke out before I take another sip.
“Two days.”
Wine sprays from my lips, and the embarrassment blooms over my face as I quickly apologize and look for something to blot the table with.
“Leave it,” Lachlan says gently, just the power of his voice stopping me and sending a shiver through my spine. He plucks a cloth from the breast of his tunic. He ignores the table as he reaches across it, and before I know it, he’s deftly dabbing the wine from my mouth. His knuckle brushes my lip, and another heated thrill flashes through me before he pulls away back into his chair. His eyes meet mine, holding my gaze once more as he steeples his hands in front of him.
“Two days, Iona,” he growls quietly. “In two days, we’ll be married, and you’ll be—”
Mine, I think in my head, blushing fiercely as I do.
“—my bride,” Lachlan finishes, his baritone voice lingering in the darkness.
“Two days,” I whisper, swallowing thickly.
In two days, I’ll be married to man who I’ve married a hundred times in my head. The man who’s taken me to bed ten times that number in my dreams.
Twice my age. My best friend’s father. My husband.
…I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter 2
Lachlan
This is wrong.
My eye dance over her as she rises, bowing and taking her leave of my study. And still, my gaze follows her right to the door, staring at it long after she’s closed it behind her.
On the surface, this is a simple, and if I do say so myself, an elegant solution to a problem. That it also has a bit of a snub towards the Campbells is the icing on the cake. But again, that’s all surface. It’d be easy to say this is all a political move, but then, that isn’t entirely true. Yes, my lands need stability, and history has shown many times than an unmarried lord governing over lands has a way of breeding instability. It suggests a lack of commitment, or resolve. It implies that he’s unable to govern his own home, which in turn, opens his land up to naysayers and rabble-rousers who would use his unmarried status as a weapon to bring down his banner.