“What’s the fundraiser for?” I ask, taking Alastair’s arm and lifting my skirt so I don’t trip on it.
He shrugs. “I have no idea. My secretary picks a few invitations at random and I attend, offer a large donation, and leave.”
“You’re a philanthropist,” I say, “a true do-gooder.”
“Careful darling,” he says while kissing my cheek, “you do not want to be naughty tonight.”
“Or what?” I’m struck with an irrational desire to bite his firm, perfect jawline. He looks so good tonight. Damn him.
“I will spank your perfect bottom,” he slides his hand down, squeezing my arse just before we walk into the opera house.
The fundraiser is for the dolphins. I never find out what dolphins or what they’re doing with all this money, and I suspect no one here does.
“Who is this radiant creature?”
A woman nearly as tall as Alastair bustles up to us, offering her cheek for his kiss. She’s dripping in diamond jewelry, but it doesn’t hide her warm grandmotherly vibe.
“Emily, allow me to introduce my beautiful wife, Sorcha. Sorcha, this is Emily Park-Hughes, our clever and charming hostess.” Alastair smiles at her while putting his arm around my waist.
I’m blinking up at him like a numpty. Where did this charming bastard come from and what did he do with my husband?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” She squeezes my hand with a warm smile. “This is a surprise, Alastair, and a pleasant one.”
“It happened quite quickly,” he says smoothly, drawing me away. “We’ll have lunch soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that!” Emily calls after us.
The entryway is magnificent, a four-story glass arch leads into a massive entryway with marble floors and gold leaf detailing on every surface. A string quartet is playing on the raised dais next to enormous monitors showing videos of frolicking dolphins.
I’m not a stranger to magnificent events, my family throws a massive fundraiser at the MacTavish estate every year, in fact, that’s how my brother Dougal met his wife Isla. She broke into our safe and nearly made off with a priceless necklace.
Just two weeks ago, I was standing on the bank of our river, wondering if I could ever cross it. Now I’m married, attending this elegant affair and it has just occurred to me that I’m not panicking. I’m okay.
I squeeze Alastair’s arm and he looks down. “Are you all right?”
“Aye,” I say, “and that’s… what’s surprising me, I guess.”
“You’re doing beautifully,” he says, turning me to meet another expensively dressed couple.
The realization warms me.
I can do this. I’m not broken Sorcha MacTavish here.
***
Numpty - Scottish slang for a simpleton
True braw - Scottish slang meaning really hot, or attractive
Chapter Twenty
In which certain Evil Triad Villains just cannot take a hint.
Alastair…
I watch Sorcha move through the room next to me with increasing admiration. This is a girl who hadn’t stepped foot off her family’s estate for seven years, yet she’s smiling and nodding as I introduce her to a dizzying array of people. I’ve been watching carefully to see if anything could trigger a panic attack for her, but my wife steps into this role gracefully. Her grip on my hand is a little sweaty, though she hasn’t tried to pull away.
My wife.
