“Everyone is waiting for us.” His voice came from the inside the room, muffled. “Father has even brought the horses to the front door. And two pairs of boots for you to try on.” He emerged from the closet, bringing her black LV monogram sneakers and a red patterned shahtoosh. “Here. Put these on. It’s cold outside. And it doesn’t matter that you’re wearing jeans or that you don’t have the right clothes. I want to go riding with you.”
“Humpf,” she complained, lacing her sneakers. “This isn’t right.”
He hit the arm of the armchair hard with his crop startling Sophia, who craned her head to look up at him, surprised. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, “Maybe it’s not right, but it’s what I want.” He dropped onto his haunches to stare into her eyes, “And what I want, I get.” The sound of the crop hitting the armchair rhythmically rang out in the room.
Hello, Lord big-ego-Julius-Caesar! “Should I bow, say amen, or something similar, my Lord Ells?” she mocked, scooting to the edge of the armchair, caging him between her thighs.
“Aye, it’s better if you start learni-.”
Oh, please. She grabbed him by the velvet lapels and pulled him in an openmouthed, scorching kiss. He fell to his knees and his arms went around her, hauling her flush to his body, the shahtoosh, and his crop dropping from his hands behind her.
He was panting when she stopped the kiss.
She shoved the armchair back and jumped off it with an agile movement, “Dream on, my lord,” and ran away from him, waving, “dream on!”
Alistair watched dumbfounded as Sophia flew through the door, leaving him kneeling in the room. He picked up the fallen items and looked at them, daftly.
Unbidden, a smile spread on his lips and his sun shone brighter than it had in many months.
3.22 p.m.
Sophia pushed the doors to the pool lounge and looked around, searching for Alistair or Alice. No one. She entered the artfully decorated room. Palm trees in earthenware pots were placed around the high-ceilinged room. Soft music was playing in the background. The remoteness of the place appealed to her. Yes, this castle is enchanted.
She strolled to one of the lounge chairs and took off her gold and diamond Havaianas from H. Stern and the green, blue, and pink Indian sari she wore as a skirt folding and putting it in her straw bag. She started to take off the matching short jacket with long sleeves, but decided to keep it on. She looked at her watch. Why am I so damn neurotic about time? She sighed, lay down on the reclining chair, and switched on her Kindle.
So engrossed in the story, Sophia didn’t notice the door open and close, or the approaching steps.
Tavish cleared his throat, disgusted by the woman in her small bikini and barely there jacket lying on the chair.
Looking up, Sophia viewed two strong legs wearing long Vilebrequin shorts in a Bengal tiger print. A blue linen long-sleeved opened shirt showed off a spectacular torso with sculptured abs, broad chest, and shoulders. She sucked in a breath. Hot, hot, hot.
Her gaze lifted and she became acutely conscious of his turbulent stare taking in her Adriana Degreas bikini and how his brows were lifted with scorn. Oh, please, spare me. I’m not in the mood for a bullying rugged giant right now.
“There’s a shop upstairs that sells clothes and bathing suits,” he snorted.
Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward, but didn’t utter a word and turned back to her Kindle.
“So, what’s your plan? This feigned naïve behavior doesn’t fool me. No innocent young woman would hang around Alistair.”
What? Why not? She raised her brows at him and lifted her Kindle to avoid his stare, giving him the cold shoulder.
“Oh, no,” he said, walking to her side. “You won’t dismiss me as if you didn’t understand a word of what I’ve just said. I won’t be dismissed by someone like you.” And sat by her thigh.
Such a bold move startled Sophia. She snapped her Jimmy Choo Kindle cover shut and put it on the table, with a grim look on her face. She rose from her lounge chair, spine stiff, asking, “Someone like me?”
He rose carefully and circled the reclining chair. As he walked to her, trying to maintain a nonchalant pose, Sophia noticed his slight limp.
A sudden pity filled her heart, but she suffocated it deep down in her irritation.
“Why are you here?” Tavish hissed at her. “Aren’t you like the others?”
“What cryptic questions, my lord,” her voice was icy. “I came because of your father’s invitation. And how would I know how the others behaved? I can understand your words, but the manner of questioning must be old Scottish. Maybe it’s derived from your ancient barbaric Picts’ ways of torture, because I can’t make heads or tails of it. And quite frankly,” she lifted one eyebrow at him, “I don’t care.” She put on her sari and stepped away from him toward the door, too angry to care about her bag, Havaianas, and Kindle.
“Stop,” he said and gripped her left arm. “I want to talk to you.”
“But I don’t,” she answered, moving her arm brusquely away from his grip. She winced as a shock of pain lashed through it.
“What are you planning, Mrs. Leibowitz? What do you wish? I want to know why you really came here. You don’t need his money. Do want the title? His international status? Want a replacement for your late husband? A man to father your daughter?”
Sophia’s face fell at the aggressive and incoherent accusations. “Pardon?” she asked, flabbergasted. Breathe, Sophia, breathe. Remember your promise to Alice.
She looked straight ahead at the glass windows, focusing on the view of the extensive lawns outside, inhaling and exhaling deep and loud, “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Coward,” he muttered under his breath. “Just like the others.”
She turned her head back slowly to look at him, her chin high, “Did you just call me a coward?” Her hazel eyes darkened.
“I did. Go ahead,” he taunted, “run back to the arms of your dark lover and complain about my fucking bad manners.”
Go screw yourself, Lieutenant-Colonel-Doctor-Lord-Arrogance. This is it. The last straw. She seethed. No one talks about my family like that. Or calls me a coward. After everything I’ve been through, that is one thing I am not. The thought made her anger bubble and spill.
She fisted her hands, trying to control her temper. “Oh, you do have bad manners, my lord. And your language is deplorable.” Her eyes were thunderous as she turned to face him in a fluid motion, hissing, “I don’t need a replacement husband. Gabriela and I are doing just fine.” She stomped toward him and whipped her neck back to look at his face. She felt as a joint cracked with her sharp movement. Damn. Does he have to be so tall and handsome? “And I don’t look for anyone’s protection. I’m going to show you who is the coward here.”
Tavish’s face showed his surprise at Sophia’s fearless behavior. None of Alistair’s other women would have the audacity to confront him.
“Now, my lord,” she spat the words, past all reason, taunting him, “let me make some things clear. I don’t like this bullying of yours. I don’t understand what I’ve done to prompt such antagonism. But, you know what? I don’t give a damn. I’ve had enough of your abuse. Do you think you can go around throwing unfair accusations or creating scenes just because you were a prisoner of war? Do you?” She stepped in his direction, furious. “Well, let me tell one thing. You’re still alive and you have to live the best way you can. I won’t take pity on you. And people will tire of your wailings.” She invaded his personal space, poking at his chest. “Come on, man up. Look around. There are people suffering much worse than you.”