Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(30)

Of course, I’ll be getting all big and stretch-marked, so maybe having my mojo back won’t even matter. Whatever. Who cares.

I’ve decided to go to Gael first, and then Scotland. I figured it might be helpful when I break the news to Liam if I learn a little more about his country first. I have an escort from the airport to my ferry, which I’m taking because the plane from Edinburgh to Gael was going to be teeny tiny—like, a two-seater. No thank you, ma’am. I’m not looking to pull an Amelia Earhart.

I shudder in the back seat of the Mercedes, en route from the airport to the eastern Scottish coastline. After texting practically my whole phonebook, letting everybody know I’m still alive, I try to distract myself from my churning stomach by petting Grey’s nose through the slats of the carrier, then looking out the window at downtown Edinburgh. It’s a beautiful city, one I’ve always liked, with lots of stone buildings; clean, tree-lined streets; and a general “Scottish” sort of look: orderly and tidy, and lush and stately at the same time.

My escort/guard’s name is Herb. He’s red-haired, pale-skinned, and freckled, maybe five or six years older than me, with faded-looking blue eyes, thin lips, big ears, and a bulky body that doesn’t go with those features at all. He’s like the love-child of Chris Hemsworth and Rupert Grint.

I guess he’s paying attention to me behind his sunglasses, because right about the time I start feeling pretty sure I’m going to hurl, he pulls over at a gas—no, petrol—station, holds up one finger, and locks me in the car.

“What the fuck?” I moan in the silent car.

Herb returns with saltine crackers and a can of ginger ale. I take them gratefully, then blink as he holds out the plastic bag, one eyebrow arched.

Oh.

“Thanks.”

Three crackers, eaten in the universe’s smallest increments, and a bunch of well-timed sips of ginger ale prevent me from ruining the inside of Herb’s car. When he parks at the ferry station, he turns and gives me a quick thumbs up before getting all my luggage. I follow behind him, clutching Grey’s carrier, feeling like Madeline on an outing from the orphanage as he gets us checked in and leads me onto the ferry.

We must have boarded early, because no one else is around. And it appears we have some kind of ferry penthouse. We have to climb a bunch of stairs to get to it. It’s just a box room with dark glass window-walls and a stomach-churning view of the ocean.

Ugh.

I’m grateful when Herb excuses himself, mostly so I can puke in peace in the tiny bathroom. I dig around in my purse for the small bottle of rose water I keep on hand and spray the bathroom, then our room. When he’s still not back, I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face, throwing the wash cloth away because I’m not putting that back in my bag. I’m murmuring to Grey, whose carrier is on my lap, and feeling like death when Herb returns.

“You’re from that Rhodes show!” he says the moment he steps in, holding a drink.

“Is that a beer?”

He’s clutching the handle of one of those giant glass mugs, and has the grace to look embarrassed. “Do yeh mind?”

“Does it matter?” I laugh, semi-shocked.

“I’ll toss it if you want,” he says, taking more care this time to hide his thick accent.

I roll my eyes. “Drink away, captain. Drink for both of us.”

“Yeh can’t drink?”

“I can,” I say sharply. “But I have a stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be smart.”

“So are you her? The little one? Er, the youngest, that is?”

I lean my head back, peering at the ceiling, which is made of square sheets of metal, welded together and then white-washed. “The little one.” I scoff. “How did you get a job as my security detail without knowing who I am?”

He shrugs. “My boss doesn’t tell me. We Scots value discretion.”

About an hour later, when Herb is on his third giant mug of beer, his feet propped on the wall, his big arms stretched behind his head, I’m starting to doubt that.

“So did yeh like the show? Why did you leave it?”

I shrug. “Wanted my privacy.”

“You dated that bastard, yeah? Bryce? The grocer?”

I rub my forehead. “Yeah,” I mumble.

“You can do better than him!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Thank you?”

After that, I try to focus on my iPhone’s Kindle app. After that, I’m sick again. When the ferry docks an hour later and Herb weaves his way down the pullout bridge from boat to dock, I make a quick decision.

I follow him to the rental car booth and let him get the keys. He manages to lead me to the car and load my bags, a feat I’m not sure how he manages.

I take the keys from him before he notices.

“Thanks so much, Herb. I’ll bring the car back in two weeks, just like the company said. Just pretend you’re with me. Take your own vacation.” With a quick wink, I hop in the car, speeding off, then jerking over to the roadside when I realize I’m in the wrong damn lane.





FOURTEEN Lucy





I’m jet-lagged as hell, so I stop at the first hotel I see in Clary, use a fake I.D. proclaiming me Sarah Alabaster, pay in cash, and fall face-first into bed. I then remember I haven’t set up Grey’s travel litter box, and have to drag my sad self up and do that. I spend a minute watching him before I decide he seems okay and collapse.