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“You are a nightmare, Grace Brown.”
“Thank you for saying so, Lord Kinkirk.”
He sighed and ran the tap, shoving his toothbrush under it quickly as he shot me a dark look. “I never should have told you to stop using that, should I?”
“Terrible mistake on your part.” I looked at the bed and where he’d put his pillow, then grabbed it and switched it with the other one.
“What are you doing?” he asked around the toothbrush in his mouth.
“I sleep on this side.” I hefted his quilt into my arms and shoved it on the other side of the bed, then yanked the other over to me. “I sleep on my left side, and I don’t want to wake up staring at you. It’ll scar me for life.”
“What am I?” He spat the toothpaste into the sink. “Some kind of sleep paralysis demon?”
“I’d rather not find out for certain.” I leant over the bed to swap our phones, unplugging his from my charger, and grabbed my water bottle.
“My phone is almost dead.”
“Not my phone, not my problem.”
“Are you always grouchy when you’re tired?”
“Yes, actually.” I smiled, burying myself under the covers and pulling them right up to my chin. “That’s better.”
William paused in the doorway, looked at me, then shut off the light to the bathroom with a shake of his head. “If you’re trying to convince me that maintaining a friendship with you will be hard work back at home, don’t bother. I’m fairly stubborn.”
“Looks like we’re in a battle of wills then, my Lord.”
“I feel like I’m in a regency romance novel,” he muttered, walking into the living room. He appeared a moment later with his phone charger in his hand, and I pressed my lips together in a hard-fought smile. “Because you’re extra petty tonight.”
“My phone needs charging or I’d just let you use it,” I replied honestly. “And if I don’t leave it on, Amber will think I’ve been murdered and dumped in the loch.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, phone in one hand, charger cable in the other, and raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not an impulsive person,” I said slowly, still a human burrito in my quilt. “I’m pretty sure she thinks you’re either a serial killer or a manipulator to convince me to come with you.”
“That’s not entirely unreasonable.” He plugged his phone in and set it on the bedside table, then got into the bed. The only light was from the weak bulb in the lamp on his side, and the way the shadows played over his face when we looked at each other reminded me of the watchtower.
And how badly I’d wanted to tilt my chin up and kiss him.
I swallowed and reached out for my phone. “I should probably let her know I’m still alive before she calls the police. I haven’t spoken to her today.”
“Good thinking. I’ll check in with a few friends and see if they’re able to make the wedding or not.”
Panic bubbled in my lower stomach.
Friends.
Of course he’d have friends here.
William and Freya weren’t that far apart in age, and it stood to reason that some of his friends would also be present at the wedding.
Double bollocks.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – WILLIAM
A Series of Unfortunate Events
“Oh, no,” Grace groaned, tapping away on her phone. “I bet they’re all aristocrats, aren’t they?”
