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She shrugs a shoulder. “Who knows? Have you met Keir? He doesn’t exactly like to live by other people's rules.”
She opens a door and passes through it, turning around and stopping me from entering.
“Seriously? I have things to do. You are supposed to be babysitting Isla. Not asking me twenty questions.”
She gestures dismissively and I narrow my eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until…” I pause, unsure how to end my sentence. “It sounds like Keir hasn’t been clear with me about when I am supposed to leave.” I pinch my lips together and draw in a breath. “You won’t get anywhere with me being nasty. But you haven’t gotten a fair shake either. Can we just start over?”
Her laugh in response is cold and distant. “I don’t know what Keir has been telling you. I still don’t know why you’re here. But I definitely do know one thing. When Lord Grayrose stops letting his libido make his decisions for him, you’ll be gone. And I’ll be here, as always. And then it will be just me and Keir once again.”
My brow arches. “What do you mean? Isla has been here the entire time, hasn’t she?”
She screws up her face. “Well, yeah. But that’s really not my point. Keir needs to be free of your hedonistic temptations in order to think clearly. And he’ll do that. Soon, I’m sure.”
“My hedonistic temptations?” The words roll off my tongue awkwardly.
“Is that your way of saying that you think that Keir will open his eyes and see you as a future wife?”
She sniffs. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter what you think. No one asked you.”
I half out a laugh. “I can’t believe you have been here for three years, pining after Keir. You realize that he’s a total asshole, right?”
Natasha surprises me by pushing at the center of my chest, making me back away. “Leave the members of this household alone. This is the last time I’m going to tell you. The next time, I won’t be nice about it.”
I screw my face up. But before I can get an another word, she shuts the door firmly in my face and I hear a lock turning.
As I head back downstairs, my phone buzzes in my pocket. My right knee wobbles for just the faintest moment as I dig deep inside my pants for my cell phone. I stretch out a hand and clutch the wall beside me, waylaid by my own body.
I push out a hiss and tip my chin upward, making a face at my own knee. After a moment, the muscle in my knee stops spasming and I push upward onto my tiptoe, trying to straighten it completely. Pain lances through my knee like a bolt of lightning and I wince.
I mutter a curse to myself and make sure the balls of my feet are flat on the floor before I look down at my phone screen again.
“What’s up?” The text reads. It’s from my sister. I know, because it is followed by a string of incomprehensible emojis. My lips turn upward and I smile at that. It’s been a long-standing joke between the two of us to make our signature a long string of nonsensical images.
I text her back. “Not much. No big news here. Anything over there?”
I follow it by a picture of a shrimp, a fire truck, and an arrow.
“Nope. Just missing you. Do you have any news on when you’ll return?”
I scrunch my face up. “Not yet. Soon. I’ll be back before you know it. You doing okay?”
There’s no follow up text for almost a minute. I slip my phone in my pocket and continue downstairs, my mind halfway on the text message thread and halfway on making sure I am going to the right place. After all, I wouldn’t want a repeat of yesterday, where I ended up in a dormant seller instead of going outside through the back of the castle. No, today I will do better.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again. I check it quickly and find that my sister has written me back. “I have to run. But I miss you? I hope we can FaceTime soon?”
“Of course. Love you.” Then I text her a lobster, a pig, and a CD picture. She responds with a simple Chinese character and for some reason that cracks me up.
Putting my phone away, I look up as I head outside in search of Isla.
CHAPTEREIGHT
I have the distinct impression that I’m being followed. As I cross the street, the city rushes all around me, working at a dizzying pace. It’s Glasgow, not New York City. But there are still plenty of people pouring out of the offices around me, I thought, as I head to my limousine.
I stop, looking both ways, taking in the pedestrians around me. But it’s hopeless to find one person watching me while there are bike messengers whooshing past and men in business suits with papers under their arms and serious expressions talking to each other. I frown, adjust my cuffs to my crisp white shirt, and slide through the limo door that the chauffeur holds open for me. The feeling that I am being watched seems to dim when I am out of view of all the passersby. But I noticed that it doesn’t ever quite leave, not even when my driver pulls onto the narrow two-lane highway leading me to my ancestral home.
I pass the time by checking media reports and sales figures on my phone. But really, in the back of my mind, I keep wondering two things.
