Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
So he hadn’t implied his intention to end my life. Had only meant I verged on breaking a rule punishable by death, all because I’d spoken of a subject that shouldn’t be named. Which was…what? Not being the real Isobel? I swallowed. In order for a subject to receive a not-to-be-discussed designation, it had to be discussed at least once before. Had this kind of travesty happened to someone else?
But maybe I was wrong and misunderstood his point. Maybe Isobel hadn’t switched bodies with me. Please, be wrong. In a few hours, the drugs might wear off, ending a mass hallucination.
The crowd congratulated us on our nuptials. While Callen smiled and enchanted one and all, I stood silent, mostly ignored by the attendees, desperate to stroke a coin no longer in my possession, expecting someone, anyone, to clock my true identity and make the madness go away. But one hour bled into another, and all I got was dirtier, sorer feet. People noticed my black cherry-tipped toenails, the focus of many surprised glances and frowns. Absolutely everyone referred to me as ‘Isobel’ or ‘Mrs. Bruce.’ Worse, my reflection remained unaltered. A tall, disheveled redhead with freckles.
We’re going to trade, you and I.
A sense of doom swirled in my mind. This was real, wasn’t it? No matter how farfetched, there was no denying it anymore. Somehow, Isobel Campbell—now Isobel Bruce—had truly traded bodies with me. Callen believed I was his brand-new wife, someone he apparently disdained with every fiber of his being. The rest of Scotland concurred.
As my new hubby ushered me toward the next group, his fake smile vanished. He glanced at me once. Twice. A third time. Finally he deflated a little. “I think I preferred the accusations to the silence. Say something.”
“I’m probably closer to screaming than speaking.” I reached for my coin for the thousandth time. Still gone. Sighing, I hugged myself. “I won’t cause you problems anymore,” I told him softly, and I meant it. This sham of a marriage wasn’t his fault. He’d clearly been duped. And, until I found a way to reverse Isobel’s meddling, I kind of needed him as a safeguard against any other rules I might inadvertently break. Plus, I knew no one else in the area and had nowhere to stay but his castle.
“What changed?” He released me to claim two champagne flutes from a passing tray. One he drained. The other he passed to—nope, he drained it too. After replacing the empty glasses, he delivered a drink to me.
“Can we discuss this when we’re not surrounded by prying ears?” Or never. Yeah, never sounded better. I consumed my beverage. Mmm. Good. I snagged another glass at the first opportunity. Down the hatch. I rarely imbibed, but my new body craved more. And more.
“Very well,” Callen agreed. “Come. There are only a few more council members we must greet. Then we’ll go home and talk.”
Ugh. What I didn’t want to do? Spend more time trapped inside the small confines of a vehicle seated next to this grump of a man.
Without warning, the champagne hit, and hit with a vengeance. My head spun. Oops. We’d been so busy chatting with guests, I hadn’t noticed any of the waitstaff near me. Maybe I should go to them.
I searched for someone, anyone with a tray.
A server approached a group to my left, saying, “Smoked salmon with crème fraiche on a tattie scone?”
Oh, yes, please and thank you. Nearly drooling, I broke from Callen’s side to snag one. At the first bite, I moaned. Dang, that was delicious. Need another! But the server had already moved on.
Pouting, I headed back to—hey! Where was Callen? No sign of him in any direction. No sign of the bodyguards either. Their fault, not mine. On the hunt for more smoked salmon, I acquired and drained two more glasses of champagne, the body fully in charge. Bonus: My tornado of impending doom downgraded to a soft rain shower. Despite everything, I was safe, and no longer steeped in confusion about the situation. Err, not as much confusion. Armed with truth, I had hope.
All I had to do was pretend to be Isobel until I figured out everything else. Which I couldn’t do right now. At this point I had only one choice: enjoy myself. I mean, wouldn’t Isobel? I must do whatever it took to keep up appearances. Thankfully, I knew how to kick off my newfound outlook. More of those tattie scones. But where was the waitress?
There. She stood with two thirty-something women, waiting for the pair to decide which morsel to select. I hurried over.
“—her? Really?” one of the women was saying. “I can’t believe Callen actually did it.”
“I know,” the other replied. “Tae be stuck with Isobel Campbell.”
My ears twitched, and I hesitated to reach out.