Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Relief radiated from her.
“Have you lived here all your life?” I asked.
“Nope. We used to live in Glasgow and only vacationed here. Da said we gotta stay here now so people won’t come to take pictures of us.”
Pictures, as in media? Was this a berserker thing to help immortals blend in for centuries to come?
We didn’t get a chance to speak more. Gavina returned, Mackenzie behind her, carrying a bag filled with everything I’d requested.
Mirren rushed to the bed to check on the doll. “Oh no,” she cried. “Skye is dying right now! She’s not gonna live for surgery.”
“Oh yes she is.” I dove into the supplies and got busy, cleaning off the marker with acetone before starting on the gash.
Mirren paced like a concerned parent. Gavina tried and failed to distract her. Mackenzie took off.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed as I cut, fit, cut again, glued, and painted, in a zone. At some point, Gavina ushered Mirren out of the room and into the dining room for lunch. I continued, ready to get this done and begin my sleuthing. Minutes ticked by unnoticed until aches erupted in my neck and back.
Needing to stretch, I set the unfinished Skye aside and stood. Oh wow. My entire body protested, my knees nearly buckling. And okay, yeah, I was starved.
I glanced at the clock and grimaced. Dinner had come and gone. Maybe I could sneak into the kitchen, snag a quick snack or whip one up, and return to put the finishing touches on the doll. That way, I’d be fresh and ready for sleuthing tomorrow.
If I ran into Mackenzie, even better. We could chat about the seduction thing and Tavish. Did she work with him or not?
Chapter
Seventeen
Boundaries or Bust: Drawing Lines in the Sand Without Tripping Over Them
From A Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss
Author Unknown
Imade my way to the kitchen. Women and men of various ages bustled still about, cleaning. The eldest—Cook—noticed me and bounded over like a mother hen concerned for her chicks.
“You look famished, Mrs. Bruce. Are you famished? Come, come.” She wrapped an arm around me, herded me toward a counter separating the kitchen from an employee break room, and urged me to sit. “I’ll make you a plate.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to trouble you. I’m happy to grab a snack all by myself and—”
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble.” She waved away my words and marched on, issuing orders to the others. All hints of sweetness were gone. A commander had taken over. “Only the best for the lady of this house,” she called.
Gah! “I’m not cozying up to Callen to buy your affections,” I stated flatly.
For some reason, I received more grins and even a thumbs up. A heavy sigh escaped. They didn’t believe me.
Voices rose from behind. I turned my head to face the servant’s quarters. Multiple tables and chairs, a tea and coffee station, refrigerator, and sitting area complete with a big screen TV, couch and two rockers. Dang, I missed my classroom and sanity breaks with my fellow teachers.
Two maids entered the kitchen, deep in conversation. Spotting me, they stopped and quieted before remembering they were supposed to like me; they forced smiles and waved before hurrying out.
An agitated Mackenzie raced past the doors. Relief glittered in her eyes as soon as she spotted me. “There you are.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Miss Mirren is headed to her bedchamber, about to tuck in for the evening. No one wants her to see the doll in its current condition.”
Good point. My questions about Tavish could wait. “Tell Mirren that Skye is in the critical care unit, where she’ll spend the night, but her doctor is expecting a full recovery by morning, then return here to collect my food and bring it to my bedchamber. Most importantly, remind everyone I refused your deal.” I was queen. Might as well take advantage of my position in some way.
“I have. Many times,” she said, arms spread. “But Mr. Bruce didn’t beast-out at the ceremony of kings, and he hasn’t killed anyone lately, so no one believes me.”
I puckered my lips. He had not killed people all willy-nilly before the wedding. Had he? “Well, be prepared to stay in my room a while.” We’d finally have our talk.
“Of course,” she said, giving me a nudge toward the door. A familiar gesture. Almost friendly. “The doll, remember?”
Right. I raced to the room, gathered my tools, supplies and Skye, then beat feet to Callen’s suite. Thora stalked from the closet and watched as I set up shop at the desk, aka the critical care unit.
“Hey, baby girl. Miss me?” I checked my phone for messages. Nothing from my nemesis, but there was a text from Callen. Anticipation pricked me.
Mr. Bruce: Are you staying out of trouble, wife?
Warm pleasure spread through my veins as I reclined in the chair. Yes, I might have smiled as I typed my response.