“No, Jock Tamson is sort of everyman,” Allie interjects. “Like we’re all equal, yeah?”
“I get it.” Oh, I do. The duke and the girl from nowhere grand. I hide my cynical smile with a tiny cough into my hand.
“So, have you met him?” Allie asks with an avid gleam. “I have, but just the once.”
“Did you?” Emma asks sceptically.
“Aye, it was a few years ago when I was working part-time at the sweetie shop. He brought in his wee nephew for a treat. It was lust at first sight, I can tell you. Does he smell really lush, or have I imagined that?” she asks.
Emma groans, pulling a chunk of her pink hair over her eyes as though embarrassed.
I purse my lips together to stop myself from barking out a laugh. How does he smell? Try irresistible.
“I have met him, but I can’t tell you what he smells like”. Or rather won’t. I’m also not about to tell you I’m currently hiding from him.
“He was so good wi’ that wee boy,” she continues, “it’s a crying shame the man doesn’t have bairns of his own.”
“Aye, but his wife died,” Emma says, assuming I don’t know. “She was so beautiful, like a fairy princess. Her loss fair broke his heart.”
“Do you know how it happened?” Of course it’s something I’d pondered, but I wouldn’t dare ask anyone at the castle. Especially now. I know it’s not right, that I shouldn’t pry, but I can’t help myself.
“Drowned.” Emma gives a sad shrug. “Fell off a yacht in the Med a few years ago now. Her body was never found. The suffering he must’ve gone through those first few days, wondering. Clinging onto hope.”
“Devastating,” Allie adds as both girls take a sip of their drinks, their expressions bleak. At least until Allie says, “I reckon I could cheer him up, though!”
“You are such a ho bag!”
The pair bust into a fit of raucous laughter that must draw the attention of the whole pub. Not that I’m looking as pick up my purse to check the status of my Uber as my heart sinks to my shoes.
“Oh, is that a Prada handbag?”
I enjoy the rest of my evening though I have to try very hard to banish the thought of Alexander’s marriage from my mind. I know it makes no sense because he’s not mine and he never will be, but I can’t help regretting that. Which is the part that makes no sense because we’re not suited. From different worlds. We are not meant to be. I recognise that. Feel it in my bones. Yet I can’t help but mourn it.
No, I decide, on the way back to the castle in my long awaited for Uber. I’m not mourning the fact that I can’t have him. It’s just sex addling my brain. It’s the sex that I’ll miss when Alexander leaves tomorrow, not him. Because you can’t miss a person you don’t really know. And when I say I enjoy the rest of my evening and I try to push those thoughts away, I do. But the company of Emma and Allie has made me realise I miss my sister. Worse, I know I can’t call her until I’ve pulled my shizz together because that girl is like a truffle hound for trouble. So, yes, I enjoyed my evening while missing my sister and lamenting the fact that I have to give up Alexander’s dick.
And how I did that was through alcohol.
“Oh, Cooper. My head is super swimmy,” I complain, pressing my head to the cool glass of the car window.
“You’re not gonnae boak, are you?” He sounds concerned so I open one eye. “Vomit,” he qualifies.
“No.” I sigh heavily. “I promise. I’m not drunk, just pleasantly pished. Or, at least, that’s the way Emma had explained it.” My head is swimmy for different reasons. Heavier reasons, I don’t even want to think about. Reasons I’m not at liberty to share. And you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway.
You and the duke? But his wife was so beautiful. Tell me another funny, Holly!
“Emma is a bad influence,” he complains. “And she’s got hollow legs. God knows what witches brew my cousin’s been pouring down your neck.”
“Down my thrapple, you mean?” I smile. The Scots tongue is an interesting one, and Alexander’s tongue—
Nope. I’m not going there.
Cooper and Emma are apparently related, though not full cousins, she’d explained. But he’s cranky and tired, and I can’t say I blame him after driving to Inverness and back before being strong armed into taking me to Kilblair. I say strong armed when I really mean sent on a guilt trip by his cousin when she’d called him to complain about what he’d done.
She’s a single, good-looking girl, Coop. Is your conscience ready to deal wi’ her risking walking back to that castle alone? Will you be able to deal when the police find her dead, cold body and you’re reading the headline over your Cornflakes?