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)
“Not another word from you,” Mr. Bruce muttered.
“Or what?” I demanded, glaring up at him. I’d already broken his original command. Twice! What would he do? Kill me, as threatened? Well, go ahead. Better to die now than after whatever torture he had designed.
The muscle under his eye jumped faster, but he said nothing more. None too gently, he hauled me past the mahogany reception desk, other luxurious furnishings and artwork that celebrated the Scottish landscapes. With each forced step, my feet sunk into the plush carpet. We veered down a wide hall, toward another set of closed double doors guarded by a pair of men as burly as the bodyguards. Difference was, these two sported kilts, reminding me why I’d ventured to this magnificent country in the first place. Surely they’d rush to my rescue, determined to save me even at the cost of their lives.
“If you give me any more trouble,” Mr. Bruce said conversationally as we approached, “I’ll give it right back to you.”
A warning I refused to heed. Since shouting hadn’t helped me, I used my own conversational tone, telling the kilted pair, “Hello. I’ve been kidnapped. My life is in grave danger.” Maybe a calmly stated fact would do the trick. “Please be so kind as to save me from my captor.”
Both men frowned and looked to Mr. Bruce, silently seeking instruction.
“Role play.” He flashed a smile. “Apparently, I’m a besotted abductor today.”
The pair smiled in return and elbowed each other before leaping into action, opening the doors.
I gnashed my teeth. “Must be nice, having people aid you without being asked.” We soared inside a large ballroom.
“Aye. It is.”
Jerk. I scanned my new surroundings. Mirrored walls, a vaulted wooden ceiling, and an open fireplace reminded me of times past, though no fire currently blazed. Men and women of varying ages filled the space, all dressed in their best. A colorful array of suits, kilts, and formal gowns. Wait staff strolled about, offering finger foods and flutes of bubbling champagne.
Mr. Bruce paused just beyond the doorframe, the powerful arm around my waist locking tight, ensuring I paused as well. Every gaze swung our way. Conversations ceased and heads bowed in deference.
I opened my mouth to try one more time–
“Don’t,” he commanded for my ears alone. He even gave me a little squeeze and bent to set his lips near my ear. “Announce you’ve been kidnapped again, and you’ll regret it.”
He…I… Oh! I fumed up at him, silent.
“Good girl,” he muttered.
The condescension cured me of every last bit of fluster, and I snapped, “Bad boy.”
He double blinked, as if surprised.
“Callen,” a handsome man called, striding our way. He had rich brown hair, eyes a shade darker, and a mischievous grin that failed to evince the same reverential fear projected by the others. “Have you come to help me console the mourning females, or is that my solo mission?”
“What if I’m the one in need of consoling?” Mr. Bruce asked, his voice dry.
Handsome snorted. “You’re on your own.”
The two hugged and slapped each other on the shoulder in a bro friendship fashion I’d always found endearing. Until this moment. Wait. Callen. Finally, my companion had a first name.
“Isobel,” Callen said, any hint of affection leached from his tone. “You know Jamison Stewart.”
“Do I?” Surely this Jamison guy would spot the real me.
Handsome lost his smile and glanced my way. He presented a clipped nod of greeting. “Isobel.”
I wilted. He didn’t see me, either, only the redhead. Talk about a roundhouse kick to the face.
Maybe we’d all been drugged? Except…
Unease surged anew, a suspicion I’d avoided now as probable as it was incredible. We’re going to trade, you and I.
As wild as it sounded, what if Isobel and I had actually…switched bodies?
I stood there, wide eyed, my mouth floundering. We couldn’t have switched. But what if we did? But we couldn’t have; it was impossible. Yet here I stood.
Deep breath in, out. My gaze shot to Callen, as if he possessed the key to truth. How silly. He might be one of my bigger problems. Whatever had happened to me, I was trapped in a situation I knew nothing about with total strangers and a supposed husband who wasn’t my biggest fan.
“She’s overcome by her good fortune,” he said, resurrecting his driest tone. “We’d best greet the other guests. The sooner I get her home, the better.”
Jamison inclined his head in understanding.
Too dazed to protest, I let my new husband lead me toward a group of partygoers.
“Why did you threaten to kill me earlier?” I croaked. What had I done wrong, and how could I avoid doing it again?
He stiffened. “For the last time, I didn’t—”
“Please,” I interjected. “Just tell me.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “You hinted at—” His lips compressed into a thin line. “Your words veered toward a subject that isn’t to be mentioned, ever. There are some rules even I canna break.”