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He inhaled and exhaled. “She was a drug addict,” he said bluntly, releasing Bella and continuing to walk down the hill with her at his side. “A bad one. She was miserable and unhappy, so popping a pill helped her forget. I told you my mother ran away. That part was true. What I didn’t say was that my father took her name off all the accounts when he realized what she was doing with their money. After that, she actually started turning tricks… anything to get high. We lived in a small town. My father was a prominent citizen. The newspapers had a field day with the story. Everyone at school knew. It was a living hell.”
“So when the reporters chase you now, it brings it all back.”
“Aye. It does.”
“Are you worried someone will dig up the old story?”
“It’s crossed my mind. My mother lives at a long-term care facility in Glasgow. She totally destroyed her health, both mental and physical. I suspect she probably had psychiatric issues that went untreated for years. My father will care for her financial needs until the day he dies, though they haven’t been legally married for years.”
“But she wanted more from him.”
“More than he could give, yes. I’m afraid I’m too much like him when it comes to intimacy.”
Conversation dwindled to a minimum after that. Bella didn’t say much. Was she wondering if he had inherited his mother’s temperament? Or his father’s? In either case he was no bargain.
By the time they made it back to the hotel, there was no need for subterfuge. The reporters had abandoned ship, perhaps deciding to cover the evening’s festivities at the castle instead of trying to catch Ian out on the town. In the lobby, people milled about. A tour group had arrived and was checking in.
“What time do I need to be ready?” Bella asked.
“They’re sending a car for us at 6:30. I thought we could nip out for a quick meal at five and then come back to change into our other clothes.”
Bella shook her head. “I think I’ll get room service. I’ll be right here at 6:25, I promise. Don’t worry. I won’t make you late.”
* * *
Three hours later, Ian untied his bow tie for the third time and stared in the mirror as he maneuvered the tricky knotting process. His brow was damp and his stomach churned. Bella might have ordered room service, but he hadn’t been able to eat a bite. He’d be lucky not to barf on his shoes while he was standing in line waiting for the queen to speak to him.
At last, he was ready. Wallet. Check. Room key. Check. He even had a condom in his wallet just for the hell of it. Maybe if he could fantasize about having sex with Bella in Holyrood Palace, it would take his mind off other less enjoyable matters.
When he loped down the stairs and spotted his date for the evening, his heart stumbled. He paused on the landing to catch his breath. Bella hadn’t noticed him yet. Mrs. Duffy deserved a dozen roses for knowing exactly what was appropriate for tonight’s ceremony. The black dress was sexy but still demure. The hem hit right at the top of the knee, baring Bella’s beautiful legs. Until this morning at breakfast, he hadn’t realized quite how spectacular those legs were. His prickly American friend was the epitome of class and elegance.
With a quick glance at his watch, he straightened his tie one last time, and told himself it was going to be a great evening.
He almost believed it.
Bella looked up and smiled at him when he approached.
“You look amazing,” he said gruffly. He wanted to bundle her back upstairs and keep her all to himself.
“Thank you. I hate to add to your healthy ego, but you look pretty darn good yourself.” Her blue eyes were clear, no hint of anything troubling her. Good. Perhaps his confession hadn’t done lasting damage.
“Shall we go?” He held out his arm, feeling like an adolescent on prom night. In the car, he outlined the evening. “I don’t think we get to sit together. The honorees will be up front. But you’ll be in the special VIP section, and during the reception afterward, I’ll have a chance to present you to the queen.”
“Present me?” Bella’s voice went up an octave.
“Not like that,” he said, grinning. “No curtsies.”
“Thank God.” She touched his knee lightly, sending a bolt of heat through his body, though he was sure she didn’t mean anything sexual by it. “Ian?”
He covered her hand with his. “Yes?”
“When and how do we deal with your paparazzi? That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Something about that irritated him. “I don’t know. I was going to make it up as we go along.”
“’Cause you’ve done so well with that up until now…”
Her sarcasm made him laugh. “Fair enough. Honestly, though, I doubt we’ll have to deal with it going in. There are guards at the gate, and we’ll be admitted that way.”
