“Scottie, wait.I didn’t sayyourlife was silly.I saidtheywere.The gawkers, the curious, the haters, even the lovers.”
“Then choose your words better.”
At the bar, she tried to pay, but Ernst refused.“On house,” he said, patting the scarred countertop.“Back.Come.Michael.”He thumped his chest.“Better.Give time.”
Outside, the May night carried a sharp chill and a slice of silver moonlight.Maybe she shouldn’t have come to Lauchtenland.Maybe she should’ve declined the title Lady Royal.Michael called her a stir stick and rightly so.How could she support her mother, the queen, if her very presence caused trouble?
Beside her, Michael’s even stride carried them up Wells Line toward Centre Street, away from the quay and the echoes of the night.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.“It’s just…overwhelming.More than I realized.”
“My apologies as well, Lady Royal.”His voice gentled.“We’ll figure this out together.”
“I should check on Kate,” she said.“But she’s probably asleep.”
“We can inquire of the nurse.She’ll be awake.”
At the security gate tucked behind the trees, Michael punched in the code and stood aside for her to pass.
The path through the woods toward the palace, lined with lavender, heather, was narrow and uneven.Scottie ducked beneath a low branch, stubbing her toe on a root.Yet here, she felt she could breathe.
“What are these woods called?”she asked.
“Don’t know that they have a name.”
“Everything royal has a name.”
He chuckled low.“I’ll find out.Maybe something simple like Dalholm Woods or Hadsby Forest.”
Scottie emerged on the north side of the castle.Lights burned from nearly every ancient window.
“It’s stunning, isn’t it?I try to imagine the centuries of life lived here.”
“There used to be a high stone wall round the grounds until the eighteenth century,” Michael said.“After Perrigwynn was built, the family neglected this place for a hundred years.When German bombs from the second war nearly destroyed the castle, they changed their ways.”
“I’m glad.I love it here.”
“As do I.”His tone made her turn.His eyes were fixed on her.“Ah—shall we go?”
“Michael,” Scottie said as they walked.“What did Ernst mean when he patted his chest and said ‘better’?”
The man lengthened his stride, moving ahead.
“Was that a personal question?”She hurried to catch up.“About you?”
“Yes.And one not suited for this late hour.”
“I disagree.Late hours are perfect for personal questions.The dark makes us honest.”
He stopped and faced her.“I am your equerry and protection officer.Personal matters aren’t part of the equation.”
Yet his tone carried something deeper, and she waited.If she’d overstepped, he’d brush it off.If not—
“Why do you want to know, Lady Royal?You’ll be away by June’s end, back to your life in Tennessee.”
“It’s how we do things at O’Shay Shirts.We’re a family.Since you’ll be my shadow for the next month and a half, I’d like to know what’s in your chest.”
“Purnell Lindholm,” he said quietly.“She’s in my chest.”
