Page 27 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

G io

When I heard Eilidh’s family lived in a castle, I somehow imagined it would be some modern building masquerading as the real deal.

As we pull up to her home I’m shocked to find I was mistaken.

Dunblair Castle is, in fact, a genuine medieval building.

We drive, in the chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce that met us at the airport, over an actual drawbridge, across a moat that would once have been filled with water to repel invaders.

The castle is constructed from massive stone slabs.

It has towers at its four corners, joined by longer, lower buildings.

I’m amazed as I glance up to see arrow slits in the walls.

“They removed the portcullis when we were kids and put in an ordinary steel gate,” Eilidh says as if living like this is normal.

I guess it is to her. “There was a hell of a fight with the historical society, but the thing had become dangerous. It fell once when we were out playing, and it was only by sheer luck someone didn’t get skewered. ”

“Fuck, kitten.” This place has me completely in awe. “You grew up in a castle. I didn’t realize I was marrying a real-life princess.”

Eilidh snorts in a distinctly un-princess-y manner. “Why do you think I chose to marry a dragon slayer?”

Though her question is playful, it’s a reminder of why we’ve returned to Scotland.

I’m here to vanquish her enemies. Alexander called last night to say he had Jason Henry and Tommy McCain in his dungeons.

Now that I see this place I realize that wasn’t just a turn of phrase.

The castle has everything else. It must also have dungeons.

Alexander’s call put an end to three days of bliss as Eilidh and I spent time getting to know each other better while exploring the Italian countryside. It was as close to idyllic as I’ve ever experienced.

“When was this place built?” I ask as we cross the courtyard over cobbled stones.

“Oh, it’s quite new,” Eilidh says, her tongue firmly planted in her cheek. “It dates to around 1440.”

My mind has trouble absorbing that. “Has your family had it all this time?”

“Sort of. We’re a distant branch of the original landowner’s family. Dad inherited when there was nobody left in the main line.”

“Wow! Have you got a title you haven’t told me about?”

“Nope, but if you want to call me Your Highness I won’t stop you.”

That makes me laugh. I’ll bet she’d love to have me bowing and scraping to her on a full-time basis. “I’ll stick to kitten. It suits you better.”

“Why is that?” she asks as we pull up at a huge wooden door with large metal studs driven into it. “You said you reminded me of a thistle, but you call me kitten, so which is it?”

“It’s both.” I smile as she frowns in confusion. “Think about it. Kittens are cute and cuddly, but have claws. Thistles are nice to look at, but have spiky bits. Kitten and thistle are two sides of the same coin really.”

“If you say so.” Eilidh turns to look out of her window as the door opens and a man comes out to greet us.

“Who’s that?”

“No idea,” Eilidh says. “Must be new.”

“Welcome home, Eilidh,” the man says in a broad Glaswegian accent as he opens her door. “I’m Nico.”

Eilidh gets out of the car, and I follow. Nico is tall and heavy set. He’s not much older than me and the way he carries himself as if on permanent alert tells me he’s some sort of hired muscle rather than a butler.

“Nico.” Eilidh acknowledges him. She stops to stare at the man for a minute and then a smile spreads across her lips. “Nico MacFarlane?”

Nico grins. “You remember me?”

“I’m not the one who lost their memory,” Eilidh quips. “Of course I remember. You were at school with Jamie. You played… urgh!”

“Rugby.”

“That’s right. You were both on the rugby team. You were a prop forward.”

Nico nods. “Good memory.”

“Mind like a steel trap.” Eilidh taps the side of her head. “So, how come you’re here? You work for Sandy?”

“I do. I have a very particular skillset that comes in handy.”

“I won’t ask what that is.”

“Probably best not to,” Nico agrees. He offers me his hand and we shake. “Welcome, Gio. You don’t mind if I call you Gio? We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

I’m not fond of formalities myself. “Gio is fine.”

Nico motions toward the front door.

“You’re in Eilidh’s old room. Go on up and get settled. I’ll have your luggage brought up later.”

Thanking him, I let Eilidh lead me into the hall. It’s a bit austere with cold stone walls and floor. A family crest is carved into the ceiling.

“My dad wanted people to be intimidated when they walked in so he left this in its original state,” Eilidh explains. “The rest of the house is cozier.”

We walk up a steep stone staircase and emerge into a more modern part of the castle with carpeted floors and wood paneling on the walls. It’s warmer here and as Eilidh promised, cozier. We pass several doors.

“My sisters and I occupied this part of the castle with my parents. When my brothers were teenagers, my parents let them move into the North Tower.”

“What’s this part of the castle called?”

“The range. It was the easiest part of the building to modernize.” She stops at a pink painted door. “This is my room.”

She opens the door and shrieks. Covering her mouth, she turns to me.

“Oh, my god, this is so embarrassing. Please bear in mind I was fifteen last time I was in here.”

She steps into the room, and I follow, immediately seeing the reason for the deep crimson blush in her cheeks.

“It’s not so bad,” I tell her as I walk around getting a good look at everything.

The carpet is a deep shade of pink that matches the curtains.

The walls are painted in a lighter pink and there’s a patchwork cover on the bed.

Family photos sit on top of a dresser. There are posters of boy bands everywhere and in corner is one of those basket chairs that’s shaped like an egg.

“You had a real thing for baby-faced, blue-eyed blonds.” I pick up on the theme of the posters.

“Apparently I got over it.” Eilidh comes and stands next to me. “Now I’m into rugged Italian Americans with darkly handsome features and permanent scowls.”

“I hardly ever scowl since I met you,” I protest.

Eilidh grins. “Only when you’re spanking me, right?”

Behind us, someone clears their throat. We both turn to find Alexander standing there. Eilidh’s face was already red, but now she goes a beetroot color.

“It’s consensual,” she says, “the spanking. Well, maybe it isn’t, but I like it. Oh, fuck! Don’t get the wrong idea.”

Alexander massages his forehead as if he’s already regretting his sister’s homecoming.

“Too much information, pipsqueak.” He steps forward and hugs her, then shakes my hand. “You made it.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” As I speak, the atmosphere in the room becomes more serious.

Alexander nods. “Do you want something to eat or drink? You’re too late for lunch, but we can raid the fridge.”

“Just like old times?” Eilidh smiles, clearly reminiscing. Then her face falls. “No, I want to see our guests first, since that’s what we came all this way for.”

“They’re down in the dungeons.” Alexander looks pensive. “Eilidh, you might be better sitting this out.”

My wife folds her arms across her chest in what I already recognize as her battle stance. “Whatever you’ve done to them, I’ve seen worse. I want to look these assholes in the eye.” A shudder goes through her shoulders as a nasty thought occurs to her. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Alexander shakes his head. “They still have their eyes if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Good.” Eilidh waves a hand toward the door. “Shall we go?”

Alexander leads the way along to the end of the corridor and down a stone staircase. We cross a large open room with an enormous fireplace.

“This is the medieval banqueting hall,” Eilidh tells me. “It’s a great space for parties.”

We step up onto a wooden platform and go through a small door. Alexander pushes on a wooden panel in the wall, and it slides open. Behind it is another staircase. I can’t believe Eilidh grew up in a place like this. My brothers and I would have loved it. There’s so much to explore.

We head down at least forty steps before we come to another dimly lit corridor.

“I’ve always hated it down here,” Eilidh whispers. “It smells like death.”

It’s definitely less pleasant down here than in the more modern part of the house and Eilidh is right about the smell. It’s a combination of damp, blood, and piss.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back upstairs?”

Eilidh smiles sadly and shakes her head. “I need to do this.”

“Okay, but if I think it’s too much…”

“I know, you’ll throw me over your shoulder and carry me out of there.”

“Something like that,” I agree.

We come to a huge iron door with a padlock. Alexander takes a key from his pocket and unlocks it. As he opens the door, he casts another concerned look at his sister. She lifts her chin defiantly and he sighs.

Alexander enters the room first. I try to go next to make sure there’s nothing in here I don’t want Eilidh to see, but my wife barges past me. She comes to an abrupt stop.

Jason Henry and a man I assume is Tommy McCain are chained to the wall.

Both have obviously suffered brutal beatings already.

The scene before us is bad, but the table laid out with implements of torture hints at worse to come.

Eilidh pales as she stares at the tools her brother and I will use to exact revenge on their enemies.

“Kitten,” I murmur, still hoping I can persuade her to go back upstairs.

She smiles weakly and shakes her head.

“How could I ever have thought I could kill them myself?” she says quietly so only I can hear.

“It’s one thing to think it, kitten. Doing it is different.”

Eilidh nods. She walks closer to the two men. I tense, afraid they might lash out at her, but neither man is in a fit state to harm her. Jason looks up. His lip curls into a sneer when he sees her. Tommy has the good sense to keep his head bowed.

“Look at me, McCain.” Her voice is strong, clear, commanding. Tommy lifts his head. There’s a nasty gash on his forehead and his lip is bleeding, but he’s in a better state than his boss who’s already received thorough attention from Alexander.

For a long time, Eilidh just stands there staring at the two men. She glances back over her shoulder, and I offer her an encouraging smile. If she has something she wants to say to this asshole, she deserves to get it off her chest before I give him the painful ending he’s earned.

She turns back to the two men. Her spine stiffens and she holds her head high. Then she takes me completely by surprise.

“I forgive you, Tommy.” She turns her head to look at Jason. “I forgive you both.”

With that, she turns and walks toward the door. She pauses to speak to me. “Do whatever you have to do to get them out of your system. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom whenever you’re done.”

As I watch her go, my chest swells with pride. She isn’t the princess I called her when we first arrived at the castle. That woman is a fucking queen and she’s all mine.