“Okay…” I watch him leave the room, already focused on his phone again and I change in the bathroom. There’s an outrageously large copper tub with elaborate fixtures sitting on the white granite slabs and skylights in the domed ceiling. My family’s wealthy, but this house is a whole new level of luxury, especially when I’ve been living in student housing for the last three years.
I wash my face, brush my teeth. I moisturize and eye the lacy little thing my mother (or maybe it was Mimi, wedding planner from hell) packed for me. With a sigh of resignation, I put it on. It barely brushes the tops of my thighs and my C-cup breasts look ready to spill out of the top.
“I’m tougher than this.” I shake my hands, like I’m warming up for a workout. “Mason’s gorgeous and he’s been very kind.” Climbing into the comfortable bed still feels a bit like marching to my execution. I’ve kissed maybe two boys during sloppy rounds of Spin the Bottle and that, sadly, is the extent of my sexual experience.
Sinking into the mattress with a groan of relief, I lace my hands over the covers, looking up at the moonlight peering through the skylights.
It’ll be fine.
Chapter Seven
In which there is the Glasgow Necropolis and dirty talk. Not at the same time.
Afton…
I fell asleep waiting for Mason to come in and take my virginity.
My eyes open, squinting a bit at the sun streaming through the windows, and I feel a little foolish. All the time spent trying to keep from panicking about having sex with a relative stranger was for nothing. Maybe Mason doesn’t like virgins. Maybe this marriage will be in name only.
But…
He put me in his bed, in his room. My few clothes are in his closet.
“Mrs. MacTavish? It’s Davina, may I come in?”
Hurling myself out of bed and shrugging on a robe, I open the door first. “Good morning, Davina.”
She’s carrying a huge tray and her sweet, weathered face droops. “Ach, I was supposed to be bringing ye breakfast in bed. Boss’s orders.”
“Oh, well.” I smile awkwardly at her; she smiles hopefully at me. “All right,” I give in, climbing back in bed. “That’s very kind of you.”
“It was Mr. MacTavish’s instructions. Though,” she hastens to add, “I would have been chuffed to have thought of it first. I thought we’d start ye off with a proper Scottish breakfast.”
I’ve eaten Scottish meals a few times while traveling through the country on European vacations. Apparently, those did not include proper Scottish breakfasts, because the heavy tray placed on my lap is pinning me to the mattress, loaded with several covered dishes, a rack of toast, a little flower arrangement, china plates, crystal, and silver…
“I feel like I should get dressed up properly for something so grand.”
“Oh, no.” She smiled modestly. “It’s just baked beans, bacon, link sausage, Lorna sausage, black pudding, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, and fried eggs.”
“That’s… amazing.” The enormous tray is groaning with food and I’m not even sure where to start. “Would you mind sitting with me for a moment? I have so many questions.”
Davina hesitates, but she finally settles in an armchair close to the bed, smoothing her hair. “What would ye like to know?”
“Well, how long have you been working with Mason?” I take a bite of the bacon. It’s perfectly cooked and crisp.
“I mind all four houses here on the square,” she says. “Michael’s not often in town, so his home is an easy one. It’s a joy to work for Kai and Logan, their wives and bairns are so sweet.”
“I can imagine. Babies are freaking adorable.” The eggs are seasoned with something wonderful and earthy, maybe turmeric, and then I detour into the mushrooms. “Is Mason easy to work with?”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “You’ll not hear a complaint from me. Aye, he’s very particular and insists on a certain standard of orderliness, but a spotless house is very restful.”
“When you live a wildly unsettled life, I can see where that would be important,” I agree. “I’m good at cleaning up after myself. Cooking, not so much. These scones are to die for! You have to teach me how to make them.”
Which is how my new husband finds us, my cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s storing nuts for the winter, buried under enough food for forty-seven people and Davina’s cute little sneakered feet propped up on the ottoman.
“Ladies, good morning.” Mason looks like sex in a suit. It’s dark blue with a green paisley tie and he is mouthwatering. “Thank you, Davina, for this breakfast masterpiece.”
“Good morning,” I swallow the bite of scone stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Would you join us? As you’ve noticed, there’s plenty and everything is amazing, thank you very much, Miss Davina.”
