Chapter Sixteen
Ian was lightheaded with relief and exhaustion. After last night, he’d been halfway expecting to find out that Bella was on a train bound for Inverness. This morning he’d had to slip the housemaid a twenty pound note along with a cajoling smile to let him peek in Bella’s room and reassure himself that her belongings were still there. That had been step one.
Making it out of the hotel unseen was next.
Holding Bella in his arms again would be number three. For now, though, it was enough to feel her hand in his and know he hadn’t screwed up so badly she had given up on him.
“You should do it,” he said suddenly.
Bella yawned. “Do what?”
“Write your novel. To hell with being sensible.”
“If that’s supposed to be a pep talk, you suck at it. Finley was the designated screw-up in our family over the years. My job was to be the perfect kid. Being sensible is encoded in my DNA.”
“Finley seems to have landed on his feet rather nicely. Perhaps it’s your turn to be wild and free.”
“I don’t think people can truly change. I am who I am. I did inherit some money, though, when my father passed…Finley and I both. I could take a break from university life and not endanger my financial future.”
“There you go. Problem solved.”
She jumped to her feet. “You engineer types drive me nuts. Life isn’t neat and tidy. You can’t shove every problem into a box and slap a label on it.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight, Bella?” He held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “I’m on your side, I swear.”
She scrunched up her face and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m in a bad mood, I guess.”
“Hangover?”
“Hardly. I’ve never indulged to that extent.”
He gaped at her. “Really?”
“Yep.” She sat back down. “I told you I was the sensible one.”
“Poor baby. I suppose this is all my fault.”
“I’m sorry the paparazzi showed up.” Bella’s sympathy made him squirm inwardly.
He shrugged. “I should be used to it by now.”
“You’re not shy. I know about the stuttering thing, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s as if the reporters have some power over you. I don’t understand it entirely. Do you, Ian? Or is it more of a knee-jerk reaction?”
Well, here it was. Did he tell her the truth? “You’re very perceptive.” It wasn’t an answer to her question.
Evidently, Bella took his equivocation as a rebuff, because she stood up and brushed off the seat of her pants. “I’m going to head back,” she said casually. “I want plenty of time to get fancied up for tonight.”
He reached for her wrist and missed. “Not so fast. I’ll come with you.”
She ignored him and started walking. The first eighth of a mile was precarious. No opportunity for anything but the careful descent. Eventually, the path was wide enough they could walk side by side.
Bella stayed with him physically, but she had withdrawn mentally. She hadn’t misunderstood what just happened. He had tried to keep her out of his messy past, and she was hurt. Damn it. A man didn’t like opening a lot of those painful boxes Bella had mentioned.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” he muttered.
She stopped dead in the middle of the path and put her hands on her hips. “Forget it. I don’t care.” Her gaze was stormy.
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her softly. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the habit of airing my dirty laundry. Cut me some slack, please. The thing is…” His throat closed up. Hell. Why did Bella always have to see him at his worst?
He inhaled and exhaled. “She was a drug addict,” he said bluntly, releasing Bella and continuing to walk down the hill with her at his side. “A bad one. She was miserable and unhappy, so popping a pill helped her forget. I told you my mother ran away. That part was true. What I didn’t say was that my father took her name off all the accounts when he realized what she was doing with their money. After that, she actually started turning tricks… anything to get high. We lived in a small town. My father was a prominent citizen. The newspapers had a field day with the story. Everyone at school knew. It was a living hell.”
“So when the reporters chase you now, it brings it all back.”
“Aye. It does.”
“Are you worried someone will dig up the old story?”
“It’s crossed my mind. My mother lives at a long-term care facility in Glasgow. She totally destroyed her health, both mental and physical. I suspect she probably had psychiatric issues that went untreated for years. My father will care for her financial needs until the day he dies, though they haven’t been legally married for years.”
“But she wanted more from him.”
“More than he could give, yes. I’m afraid I’m too much like him when it comes to intimacy.”
Conversation dwindled to a minimum after that. Bella didn’t say much. Was she wondering if he had inherited his mother’s temperament? Or his father’s? In either case he was no bargain.
By the time they made it back to the hotel, there was no need for subterfuge. The reporters had abandoned ship, perhaps deciding to cover the evening’s festivities at the castle instead of trying to catch Ian out on the town. In the lobby, people milled about. A tour group had arrived and was checking in.
“What time do I need to be ready?” Bella asked.
“They’re sending a car for us at 6:30. I thought we could nip out for a quick meal at five and then come back to change into our other clothes.”
Bella shook her head. “I think I’ll get room service. I’ll be right here at 6:25, I promise. Don’t worry. I won’t make you late.”
* * *
Three hours later, Ian untied his bow tie for the third time and stared in the mirror as he maneuvered the tricky knotting process. His brow was damp and his stomach churned. Bella might have ordered room service, but he hadn’t been able to eat a bite. He’d be lucky not to barf on his shoes while he was standing in line waiting for the queen to speak to him.
At last, he was ready. Wallet. Check. Room key. Check. He even had a condom in his wallet just for the hell of it. Maybe if he could fantasize about having sex with Bella in Holyrood Palace, it would take his mind off other less enjoyable matters.
When he loped down the stairs and spotted his date for the evening, his heart stumbled. He paused on the landing to catch his breath. Bella hadn’t noticed him yet. Mrs. Duffy deserved a dozen roses for knowing exactly what was appropriate for tonight’s ceremony. The black dress was sexy but still demure. The hem hit right at the top of the knee, baring Bella’s beautiful legs. Until this morning at breakfast, he hadn’t realized quite how spectacular those legs were. His prickly American friend was the epitome of class and elegance.
With a quick glance at his watch, he straightened his tie one last time, and told himself it was going to be a great evening.
He almost believed it.
Bella looked up and smiled at him when he approached.
“You look amazing,” he said gruffly. He wanted to bundle her back upstairs and keep her all to himself.
“Thank you. I hate to add to your healthy ego, but you look pretty darn good yourself.” Her blue eyes were clear, no hint of anything troubling her. Good. Perhaps his confession hadn’t done lasting damage.
“Shall we go?” He held out his arm, feeling like an adolescent on prom night. In the car, he outlined the evening. “I don’t think we get to sit together. The honorees will be up front. But you’ll be in the special VIP section, and during the reception afterward, I’ll have a chance to present you to the queen.”
“Present me?” Bella’s voice went up an octave.
“Not like that,” he said, grinning. “No curtsies.”
“Thank God.” She touched his knee lightly, sending a bolt of heat through his body, though he was sure she didn’t mean anything sexual by it. “Ian?”
He covered her hand with his. “Yes?”
“When and how do we deal with your paparazzi? That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Something about that irritated him. “I don’t know. I was going to make it up as we go along.”
“’Cause you’ve done so well with that up until now…”
Her sarcasm made him laugh. “Fair enough. Honestly, though, I doubt we’ll have to deal with it going in. There are guards at the gate, and we’ll be admitted that way.”
“No press inside?”
“I didn’t think of that… maybe. Still, those would be more serious journalists. Surely they wouldn’t care about the list thing.”
“Denial. Table for two. Don’t be naïve, Ian. You’ve won a major award. You’re meeting the queen. Tonight’s ceremony is big news. If you’re smart, you’ll have a sound bite ready.”
“Maybe I should hire you as my communications director.”
“Not in a million years. I’m an introvert, remember? The only difference between me and you is that I’m a nobody, and I like it that way.”
“Very funny.”
* * *
Bella wasn’t joking, not really. She was definitely glad that Ian was the one who had to handle the limelight. Her role was to sit in the background until he wanted to use her as arm candy in his quest to get off the bachelor list.
All else aside, she was deeply moved to be entering the grounds of the famous castle. Nothing in the good old USA could compare to the centuries of history on this side of the ocean. In her head she tried to name the men and women who had walked the halls of Holyrood. The roster was staggering.
Their car pulled around in front of the castle and joined the queue waiting to enter. Palace guards flanked both side of the massive, ornate gates. At last, it was Ian and Bella’s turn. They presented their credentials and were waved through. Moments later, the driver deposited them in front of a doorway where men and women dressed in formal wear made their way inside the palace.
Ian helped Bella out of the car. “Some other time if you’re visiting Finley, you should come back to Edinburgh and see all of Holyrood when it’s open to the public. The gardens are stunning, and as a history buff, you would enjoy the narrated tour.” He paused just before they stepped inside. “That section to our left is the ruins of the original abbey.”
Bella tried not to act like a country bumpkin in the big city as she was escorted through the entrance. She was actually standing inside a palace. Everywhere she looked, incredible artwork and architectural details jumped out at her. Soon, pleasant men and women in matching clothing, ushers presumably, began handing out thick vellum programs and seating the guests. Bella was lucky. Her gilt chair was at the end of a row with a clear view of the dais and the semicircle of seats where the honorees were assigned.
She squeezed Ian’s hand. “Try to enjoy yourself,” she said. “This is a night to remember.”
He squared his shoulders, but managed a tight grin. “That’s the way somebody described the Titanic’s fate, isn’t it?”
“You’re a riot. Go on,” she said. “And don’t be a smart ass. I’ll see you afterward.”
While she waited for the remainder of the attendees to be seated, she flipped through the very formal program which included a condensed history of the palace. Mary, Queen of Scots, was one of Holyrood’s most famous residents. Queen Victoria was very fond of the Scottish palace as well. Tonight’s assemblage was seated in the largest room in the castle, the Great Gallery.
The ceremony commenced at the stroke of seven. The program was long but fascinating, beginning with music from a stringed ensemble that included a massive harp. After that, a series of introductions and welcome to dignitaries. At last, it was time for the awards.
The expertise of the dozen recipients ran the gamut from medicine to the performing arts to philanthropy and various fields of science. Only one person was not present, because he was in Africa dealing with refugee issues. The honorees were listed alphabetically in the program, thus placing Ian squarely in the middle. Bella waited impatiently as the first five had their moment in the sun. Then it was Ian’s turn.
The queen looked diminutive standing alongside Ian. She spoke with charm and dignity about his accomplishments. Then on cue, he bent his head and she placed the beribboned medallion around his neck.
Bella had applauded dutifully after each award was presented, but this time was different. This one was personal. She beamed as Ian returned to his seat. At the last moment before he sat down, his gaze caught hers across the distance separating them. His head gave a quick bob. He was glad she was there.
It was enough for the moment.
At the conclusion of the festivities, the crowd adjourned to the far end of the Great Gallery, but the movement was carefully orchestrated. Beautifully presented hors d’oeuvres on silver trays were spread out on a succession of linen-draped tables. Two champagne fountains, both silver and undoubtedly antiques, served the thirsty guests.
Bella wanted to make her way to Ian, but he was surrounded by well-wishers. In the meantime, she grabbed a glass of bubbly so she would have something to do with her hands. Her small black evening purse hung from a narrow strap over her shoulder.
With time to kill while Ian did his thing, she studied the enormous room with interest. Its signature feature was the collection of paintings encircling the gallery, one hundred and ten in all, documenting the monarchs of Scotland going all the way back to Fergus I in 300BC. The royal highnesses were a motley crew. Young and old. Hearty and sickly. Male and female. Not all of them had lived here, of course. The palace was not built until the sixteenth century.
Her interest in the past waned abruptly when a warm male hand grasped her elbow. “Finally,” Ian said. “I’ve been trying to get close to you for half an hour. Do you want to grab some food?”
They decided to share one plate of hors d’oeuvres. He fed her strawberries and laughed when her chin ended up covered in juice. Primly, she dabbed herself clean with a napkin. “You acquitted yourself admirably with the queen, Mr. Larrimore. Nicely done.”
“Thank God I didn’t have to say much.” He took a sip of her champagne without asking. The casual intimacy of the moment made her stomach curl in a good way.
Handsome seemed a nondescript word to describe him. The classic lines of his profile were ruggedly masculine. Though tailored for his tall frame, the tuxedo seemed almost straining to accommodate the width of his shoulders.
Unfortunately, their intimate tête-à tête lasted barely more than ten minutes. One of the award committee members commandeered Ian and led him away. Moments later, Bella’s mouth fell open when she saw Prince Harry conversing with her date.
The invited press in the room were quick to notice the unique opportunity. Bachelor #1 and Bachelor #2, side by side. Photo ops didn’t get any better than that. Fortunately, Ian hadn’t noticed the cameras yet. The photographers were subtle in their attentions.
When Ian beckoned her, she wound her way through the crowd, telling herself not to say something dumb. Fortunately, the prince was funny and relaxed. He won Bella’s approval by praising Ian’s contribution to naval rescues.
The moment was, of course, brief. Everyone wanted an opportunity to rub shoulders with royalty, particularly the red-haired, younger prince.
Ian grabbed two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and laughed at Bella. “You’ve got stars in your eyes. Should I be jealous?”
“He’s so sweet and down-to-earth. I can’t believe he hasn’t found his own happily-ever-after.”
“Not all men want marriage,” Ian said. “Perhaps he’s enjoying his life too much to settle down with one woman. Either that or he doesn’t want to parade his private life out in public.”
The offhand statement depressed Bella. Was Ian trying to tell her something without hurting her feelings? His comment about marriage could be general or personal. She hoped it was the former.
Then it struck her. She was writing a tale in her head that was more fiction than fact. In the midst of the glamor and the champagne and the storybook evening, she had begun to regard Ian as hers. That was a sure recipe for pain and heartbreak. Besides, they weren’t even compatible in bed. That didn’t bode well for any kind of relationship at all.
She might as well suck it up and face the truth. Ian had a life in London that didn’t include her and likely never would. Their paths had crossed thanks to Finley, but that was more accident than destiny.
After meeting Harry, the Queen’s quiet greeting half an hour later was almost anticlimactic. Bella nodded and murmured her gratitude for a wonderful evening. Ian repeated something similar. Then Elizabeth moved on to the next group of guests.
Ian rolled his shoulders and yawned behind his hand. “I think we can go now. I’d like to get out of these clothes.”
“Of course,” Bella said calmly, trying not to think about Ian Larrimore naked. “I’m ready when you are.”
They headed toward the exit, but Ian was caught at the last minute by one of his fellow honorees. “I’ll wait in the anteroom,” Bella whispered. It was far cooler, and unlike the gallery, there were benches along the wall where she could perch and rest her aching feet.
Nothing prepared her for what happened next. One moment she was sitting quietly with her eyes closed imagining what it must have been like to attend a royal ball several centuries ago. The next instant, the twenty-first century present intruded rudely.
“May we have a statement, ma’am? You’re Ian’s Larrimore’s date tonight, aren’t you?”