Page 21 of Loched in Love

I turn to look at Lachlan, watching how delighted he seems with his face pressed to the glass, like he has been for the last thirty minutes.

“You guys are going to have so much fun,” Bernadette says.

“Could I possibly see the itinerary?” I ask. I want to see what they’ve set up for Lachlan and I, especially since most of the planning has been done in hushed whispers by the other women.

It’s clear they’re all quite close and are fond of him, but if we’re going to be on our own, I’d like to be prepared.

“Yup, I’m texting it to you right now,” Bernadette says. “We’ll be landing in Bucharest soon, after that you both have commercial flights to London. And from there a car will be waiting at the airport to take you straight to Loch Ness. If that’s okay with you?”

“Does this work for you, Elena?” Lachlan says, suddenly behind me, “After a quick pop in at home, we could travel to see the whales and wee beetles like you wanted.”

Warm hands touch at my shoulders and a surge of affection rocks through my middle. I tip my head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles causing his long red beard to twitch with the movement. His lengthy red hair is swept back in a partial man bun at the back of his head, and it makes me want to touch it to see if it’s really as soft as it looks.

God he’s beautiful.

“Sounds good to me,” I reply, butterflies dancing the two-step in my stomach when he softly boops me on the nose.

Warmth and a steady hum of comfort rocks through me as he moves to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. An unfamiliar sensation coasts through my middle along with a swift desire to reach out and touch him back, causing my palms to itch as I watch him lumber back to his seat.

My gaze latches on his frame for any hint that he could be turning into his other form, and Aubrey snickers at my side. My brows come together as I glance back at her, but she gives me a knowing look and nods back at Lachlan.

“Trust me when I say this, but he’s very interested in you,” she says.

A tiny thrill goes up my spine at the prospect of the large redheaded merman being interested in me.

The odds of someone being attracted to someone like me? Slimmer than slim.

Glancing back at him, I watch as he tilts his head back and laughs at something one of the other men have said. He looks like Gaston and a viking made a really hot baby when he’s not covered in the prettiest scales I’ve ever seen.

I hold back a scoff when Aubrey turns her attention back to her phone, reality setting in when my legs squish together as I settle back into my chair. She’s just being nice.

My phone dings, and texts begin coming one after another full of tickets. The first is for a flight to London, and the next a bus ride presumably to head to Scotland, but when more start coming in for different activities and just keep coming, I start to panic. “What are all of these for?” I ask, my nose wrinkling a bit when I read the words “water excursion across the Loch.” My phone continues to light up with new messages, my stomach sinking with each one.

“All those are just in case you guys get bored. You’ll basically be able to stop and do anything you want anywhere in the U.K. for the next week and a half,” Bernadette says.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“I booked you the best tickets to any fun event anywhere within a hundred miles of Scotland. You’re welcome,” she continues.

“You did what?” Aubrey says, her mouth hanging open from shock.

Bernadette shrugs, looking very much like a cat who enjoys cream often. “What, like it’s hard? With Frank’s money at my fingertips, I can practically do anything. Booking a romantic vacation is nothing, but your first flight is going to be commercial, and they unfortunately didn’t have first class.”

“That’s fine. Wait. A romantic vacation?”

“Where would you like to stop first?” Lachlan says, suddenly at my side.

His voice washes over me like warm velvet, and my heart pitter patters hard in my chest. A romantic vacation with the Loch Ness monster?

“Or non-romantic if you like. Consider it my treat for helping me,” he continues.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and the laugh lines there send a wave of longing shooting through my middle. I want to be the reason for this smile. It’s dazzling in its intensity, and the hopeful expression on his face has me melting in my seat.

I swallow the lump that’s suddenly in my throat and the light taste of champagne I enjoyed earlier coats my tongue. “Okay,” I find myself saying, just as the rabble of butterflies in my stomach take flight anew.

Chapter 7

ELENA PIERSON