“Well, tonight I’m drunk and I want to cry myself to sleep,” I retort. “Just… give me that. All right?”
His brow is furrowed like it’s physically painful to let me go, and he finally steps back with a sigh. “Aye. Take the first one on the right. The bed’s already made up.” His phone rings, and he checks it. “Goodnight,” he says, turning his back on me.
So, I snag the bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket on the bar and head for the guest room.
Halfway through the night, I make a list.
The Scottish Demon made me marry him and I still don’t know if he’ll kill me.
Nate. He swears that Nate and Carmella will be family too, but how can I trust him?
I’m trapped in fucking Edinburgh and I can’t call Nate. I don’t know if they’re safe. I don’t know anything.
After looking the list over, I realize I’m still pretty toasted because I apparently ripped off a piece of the bedroom’s wallpaper to write this masterpiece and that my drunken handwriting looks like a second grader’s. Then, number three makes me cry some more and I fall asleep, dangling halfway off the bed.
“Aye, this girl needs a day out with us.” There’s a voice and it’s drilling into my brain like I’m Alaska and they want an oil pipeline.
“She needs some friends,” another voice agrees.
Finally forcing my crusty eyelids open, I see four women standing by the bed. They all look close to my age and their expressions are varying degrees of sympathy and amusement.
“Oh, my god,” I moan. Maybe if I close my eyes again, they’ll all go away.
“Ah, ah. None of that, lass. We’re your emergency emotional support in-laws. Take advantage of that.” The woman speaking sits down on the bed, careful to avoid jostling me and tactfully turns my wallpaper manifesto face down. “I’m Catriona, Michael’s twin sister and daughter to our Chieftain.” She’s beautiful, long dark hair and a mischievous smile.
“I’m Kenna,” a blonde says. She throws away my empty champagne bottle and fetches a glass of water.
“We’re Edin and Eilidh,” a black-haired girl points at herself and her sister. “We’ll finish up all the genealogy shite later. You need a shower and we’re takin’ you to lunch.”
I’m painfully aware in front of these well-groomed, beautiful women that I look and smell like a cat vomited on me. Or a bunch of cats.
I can smell the tequila seeping from my pores and it’s enough to get me scrambling off the bed and into the bathroom. I’m slowly, painfully brushing my teeth after a very long shower when there’s a knock on the door and it opens enough for someone to hang up a robe.
“Ya probably want to go examine your clothing options for lunch,” I recognize the voice, it’s Catriona, “but since I bought ‘em all, I’m thinking those soft leggings and the blue sweater might feel pretty good right now.”
Wrapping the robe to my chin, I suck in a deep breath and open the door. Catriona’s leaning against it, checking her phone and I can hear the other girls in the living room, talking and laughing.
“Ya look like you’re feeling better,” she says approvingly. “I put some clothes out for ya.”
“Where’s Ethan?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. “Ishegoing to let me out of here?”
She laughs, hastily toning it down when I flinch. “Who ya think called us? It sounds like he’s made a right mess of things thus far.” Herding me over to the bed, she gently pats my back. “Why don’t ya get dressed and we’ll talk, aye?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which Sloan finds her allies.
Sloan…
“This is very nice of you all.”
Smiling uncomfortably, I take a sip of orange juice. I’m the only one who didn’t want to add champagne to their glass. Just the thought of it made me shudder.
“Well, while we know this wasn’t the plan, you’re family now,” Catriona says. I know by now that she’s the leader of this gang. “As it happens, our clan history is rife with all kinds of notentirelyenthusiastic unions, but they’ve all turned out rather well in the end.”
The others look at each other and snicker.
“You have no idea,” Kenna says. “When you’re ready to hear about them, you’ll be laughing your ass off too.” Her accent’s different, Canadian, I think.
