Page 69

Lachlan is standing near the front doors, waiting for me. I expected a suit. I expected a tuxedo. I did not expect a kilt, and I certainly wasn't prepared for what it would do to my heart rate.

He is wearing a tailored, midnight-black jacket with silver buttons. Beneath it, a dark tartan kilt in deep greens, blacks, and subtle lines of crimson wraps around his hips, paired with a silver-mounted sporran and heavy knee-high boots. A thick, woven wool fly plaid is pinned to his broad left shoulder with a massive silver brooch that glints in the light.

I’m not mad at it. A little thrill goes through me, because he’s my fiancée. Fake or not, he’s hot as hell.

His back is to me, his hands clasped behind him. As I take a step forward, the click of my heel echoes on the tile.

He turns.

For a second, the entire house seems to hold its breath.

Lachlan’s eyes rake over me, starting from the toes of my heels, traveling up the slit of the velvet dress that flashes the gold and opal hilt of my dagger, up the fitted bodice, and finally locking onto my face.

His pupils swallow his irises entirely, and his eyes glow. The air in the foyer suddenly feels too heavy to breathe.

"You clean up nice," I manage to say, my voice coming out squeakier than I expected.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. He takes a step toward me, the heavy wool of his kilt swaying with the movement.

Without a word, he reaches out. His large, calloused fingers brush against my bare arm, sending a shock of electricity straight down to my toes. He slides his hand down to my wrist, his thumb gently tracing the frayed edges of the glowing Celtic knot branded into my skin.

He slowly lifts his eyes back to mine.

They’re still glowing.

I wish I’d had time to read that fucking bear culture book, but after lunch and Jekyll, I took a nap. Fell asleep on my bed the minute I opened it.

I want to know what those glowing eyes mean.

"Remember the rules, Vivienne," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight through my core. "Tonight, you belong to me. You let them see it. You let them believe it. And you do not leave my side."

"I remember the rules," I whisper, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

He nods once, his eyes burning into mine. He offers me his arm, the silver cuffs of his jacket sliding back just enough to reveal the matching knot glowing on his own wrist.

"Then let's go," he says.

I swallow hard, and my stomach growls, lunch too long ago now. I grit my teeth.

It won’t be the first time I’ve gone hungry, but it seems especially egregious tonight.

"Sounds like you're hungry," Lachlan says. "Let me guess. You didn't head to the kitchen to eat anything for dinner. You haven't eaten since lunch."

His tone, surprisingly, is amused, as though me being hungry delights him to no end.

I frown up at him, confused. "Yeah, I forgot to eat." I grimace. "Do we have time for me to grab something? I have a feeling it's a bad idea to go in there hungry."

"Och, it's a terrible idea, lass," Lachlan tells me with a chuckle. "Worst idea I think I've ever heard, in fact. So it's a good thing I'm taking you to dinner first."

"What?" I ask. "How?"

"Well, there's this thing called a restaurant, and there's this thing called walking, and there's this restaurant, if you follow me, where they serve you dinner that we can go to together. Walking distance from the house."

I beam up at him, completely delighted.

"Well, hell yeah," I say.

"Good answer. I thought it would do you some good to have somewhat of a normal night before I throw you to the leeches."