The Scotch King: Book One

by Penelope Sky

  It was a lot to do in a single day.

  I showered in a different bedroom in the castle then met with my filtrations master. He did most of his work on the other side of Scotland, and this was the only availability he had for the week. Ariel was there, overseeing things as usual.

  When he left, she and I spoke in private.

  “What do you think of him?” I asked.

  “He’s quality,” she said. “His family owned a farm fifteen years ago, but they lost it due to the downfall of cotton. He worked as a scotch apprentice in the warehouse in his youth, so he turned to that to support his family. He has a lot of experience, and he really understands how much determination it takes to make something work. I trust his work.”

  That’s why I kept Ariel around. She did her research, and she could read people very well. The only exception to that was London. She never gave my lover the chance she deserved. If she dropped her prejudice, she would probably be fond of her. “Alright. We’ll offer him the position for the factory in Edinburgh.”

  “Got it.” She made the note on her tablet. “Frans just arrived at the estate. He’s getting London ready.”

  “Good.” I was sure she was giving him an earful about it.

  “I found this lovely dress from Valentino. The colors and style will look perfect on her.”

  “I’m sure. You have great taste.” I’d never seen Ariel wear anything besides black, but she did have a knack for these sorts of things.

  “Thank you. If we’re done here, lunch is ready.”

  “Good. I’m starving.”

  When it was time to leave, I walked upstairs and to the royal quarters on the east side. I opened the door without knocking, seeing Frans standing with London in front of the full length mirror in the living room.

  “You look beautiful.” Frans fluffed out the bottom of the gown, which jutted out around her hips. It was tight around her waist, shaping her curves and leading to a sweetheart neckline that accentuated her perfect breasts. The material was gold with an subtle shine, not sparkly with rhinestones or jewels. The fabric was different than anything I’d ever seen.

  She hadn’t seen me yet because she was absorbed with her appearance in the mirror. With large curls that reminded me of a beautiful woman from the twenties, her curtain of hair was pulled over one shoulder and pinned with a diamond hairclip. Her cheekbones were highlighted with subtle blush, and her eyes were detailed and smoky, making them appear far greener than they really were. Her complexion was flawless, amplifying her already perfect skin. Everything about her was perfect, screaming royalty like she’d been born into it. I leaned against the frame of the doorway and took the opportunity to admire her, taking advantage of it for as long as I could.

  I could stare at her all day.

  “Wow.” She looked into the mirror with surprise. “Frans, I don’t know how you did it. I haven’t looked this good since my junior prom. And even then, I didn’t look all that great.” She was the only one who chuckled at her joke. Since she was obviously beautiful, I doubt Frans could believe that.

  “I can’t make an ugly woman beautiful,” he said with his deep Scottish accent. “But I can make a beautiful woman radiant.” He gripped her shoulders gently and gave her a smile in the reflection of the mirror. “His Royal Highness will lose his breath when he looks at you.”

  “I already have.”

  London turned at the sound of my voice, obviously having no clue I’d been standing there. Her eyes locked on mine, and she suddenly seemed self-conscious even though she looked nothing short of beautiful.

  Frans greeted me with a bow before he shook my hand. “The Duke of Rothesay, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Frans. Thank you for making my date look divine.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s all her.” He gave London a hug before he walked out.

  When we were alone together, I closed the gap between us and admired her. My hand moved to the crook of her arm, and I felt her utterly soft skin. My eyes trailed up her body until our eyes locked. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me before.”

  “I say it all the time.” I just said it yesterday.

  “When we’re in bed, yes. Not outside of it.”

  I never noticed before. My hands moved to her slender waistline, and I held her next to me, wanting to take off that dress and move deep inside her. But that would have to wait until later. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I think so…Duke.” She smiled like she was teasing me. “You told me you didn’t have a title.”

  “I told you I wasn’t a prince. Prince is a pussy word.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is not. But whatever.”

  “Yes, I’m a duke. But it’s just a title. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I think it means a lot.”

  It didn’t mean as much as she thought, and she would never know why. “The car is waiting for us. Let’s get going. And remember.” I pulled the useless tracker out of my pocket. “Try anything stupid, and you know what happens.”

  She was just glowing a moment before, but now her face fell in sadness. “You think I ever forget?”

  The parade ended hours ago, so we pulled into the large roundabout that led to the amazing landmark known as the Holyrood Palace. The garden party would take place within the enclosure of the beautiful building.

  When we pulled up to the front, London looked out the window and examined the wonderful arches on the ground floor that led to the inner depths of the palace. Bowls of flowers hung from every other arch, and the large windows on the second floor looked over the entryway and the courtyard on the other side. I’d been here countless times, but I still found the ancient landmark to be fascinating.

  “Wow…” When the driver came to her side of the car and opened the door, she forgot to step out. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know.” I gave her a gentle pat on the thigh so she knew to exit.

  London took Dunbar’s hand, even though she despised him, and stepped out. Other parliament officials mingled together outside the entrance, probably discussing the parade from the afternoon.

  I approached from behind her then extended my arm.

  It took her a moment to realize what I was asking. She took my arm and held herself with elegance, the way Frans taught her. She kept her shoulders back, her chest up, and she blended in with everyone else.

  She turned her lips to my ear. “Do I look nervous?”

  “No. You look beautiful.”

  She released the air she was holding, relaxing slightly.

  I guided her to the entrance but stopped to say hello to Lord Provost. I introduced him to London and we made small talk for a few moments before we continued onward. Next, I ran into the First Minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon. I made the introductions, and we discussed a few matters of the scotch business before I continued forward.

  “The President of Scotland is a woman?” London asked in surprise.

  “Yes. Why is that strange?”

  “In America, we’d be lucky to ever have a female president. So far, it’s never happened.”

  I tried not to insult other people’s countries. It was in my royal blood. “Hopefully, it’ll happen someday. Nicola has been the First Minister for three years now. She’s done an excellent job.” I continued speaking in my Scottish accent now that we were among the monarchs of the United Kingdom.

  She smiled. “I think you sound cute when you talk like that.”

  “Cute?” Cute was an insult for a guy like me.

  “Sexy. Is that better?”

  I stopped walking and stared at her, caught by surprise from her compliment. She never said anything nice to me, except when she showed her concern about my drinking and smoking. And even then, she claimed she didn’t give a damn about me. “You think I’m sexy?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not pla
y games anymore, Crewe.”

  “I wasn’t playing them to begin with.” I stared her down, watching her expression.

  “We both know I’m attracted to you. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.” I continued to walk forward with London still on my arm. Now I wished we could have a moment alone together, even if it was just to share a heated kiss. But that would have to wait until later.

  I introduced London to a lot of people and explained a lot of titles she would have to write down if she ever had any hope of memorizing them. I only knew these things because of my early childhood.

  When I introduced her to the queen, London hid her nerves well. She smiled like she belonged there, greeted her correctly, and even shared a few words with her about the beauty of the palace.

  I’d known the queen for a short period of time, since she was simply so much older than me. But I could tell when she adored someone—as rarely as it happened. And she had genuine affection for this woman she’d just met.

  The queen and I shared a few more words before we took our seats in the outside garden. Overhead lights streamed across the tables, and the garden was blooming with summer flowers. Waiters brought delicacies and never let a glass go empty.

  Lord Provost sat on my left while London sat on my right. I engaged in conversation about the general happenings in Scotland. He asked me about Stirling Castle, and I gave him a polite answer. His wife sat beside him, beautiful but clearly bored.

  Dinner was served, and the quiet conversations continued.

  London ate everything on her plate even though she hardly ever had much of an appetite. She never asked what anything was even though it probably wasn’t obvious to a foreigner. She did her best to be as respectful as possible, even though she was trapped at my side.

  The First Minister took to the stage and began the award ceremony, recognizing Scottish citizens for their contributions to the territory, as well as the United Kingdom as a whole. They listed off a few names, one man serving in the military, and another for her social work at an orphanage.

  And then they called my name.

  “The Duke of Rothesay. For excellence in preserving history and tradition, the scotch created in this glorious country continues to give Scotland its fine name. In addition to his founding and continued support of Aberlour Child Care Trust.”

  The audience erupted in applause, and I rose from my seat, catching a glimpse of the shocked expression on London’s face, and then walked to the front to be kissed by the queen and receive my award. Photographers took our picture before I returned to my seat.

  London still looked shocked. “Did you know?”

  I nodded then sipped my wine.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  “Because I wanted to see the look on your face—and I did.”

  18

  London

  As the night progressed, we were moved inside the palace for dessert and wine. Men lit up cigars, and people spoke quietly together, the mingling continuing. Even though I knew the date, it seemed like I had stepped back in time to another era. I was standing among monarchs whose blood ran deep into history.

  Including my date.

  Crewe was social as he chatted with people he’d known since childhood, princes from distant lands and monarchs from other countries. His hand was usually around my waist, keeping me close to his side like I might drift away.

  We moved away and approached the dessert table, the decadent sweets appeared almost fake because they looked so good. I wanted to try one of the brownies, but I was terrified of getting anything on my dress. Normally, I wouldn’t care. But this gown cost a fortune, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of these noble people.

  “Are you going to get anything?” Crewe asked quietly, standing beside me.

  “I want to but…” My hand moved to my stomach. “I shouldn’t.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and you know it. You can eat everything on this table and still be the most beautiful woman in this room.”

  His compliment swept through my entire body, making me feel warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. “I’m just afraid I’ll stain my dress…”

  “Oh…” He smirked and covered it as he drank his wine. “Well, yeah. You better not do that.”

  I had the strength to turn away from the delicious morsels, but I secretly knew I would regret not trying everything at this dinner. “I have to ask you something.”

  “Great,” he said with a sigh. “I knew the questions would start eventually.”

  “You sell intelligence to people, right?”

  His eyes darkened at the topic. “Yes. It’s one of my many businesses.”

  “So, you mingle with all these monarchs like you’re friends and then turn around and sell their secrets for cash? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem rich enough to not have to resort to such betrayal.” I couldn’t keep the accusation out of my tone. Sometimes he did thoughtful things that surprised me, and then I remembered he did unforgivable things too.

  “You’re right, for the most part.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  He didn’t even bother to pretend to look guilty. “I have my reasons.”

  “There’s a reason besides money?”

  He discreetly glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on us. “I don’t sell intelligence from my allies. That would be treason.”

  My eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand…”

  He turned his back to the rest of the room, giving us more privacy. He lowered his voice as he spoke. “A lot of these officials have information about other parts of the world, from threatening countries. I extract that information and sell it to the highest bidder.”

  While I was still confused, that didn’t sound nearly as bad as I initially thought. “And what’s the point of all this?”

  He brought his wine to his lips and took a drink. “You take down leaders without declaring war.”

  This had to be about more than just money. It seemed like a lot of work for a rich man of royalty. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  His eyes softened as he looked into mine. “As a member of Scottish royalty, I can’t directly do anything against the men I despise. If I did, it could be considered an act of war from the United Kingdom. The queen is a very peaceful person and has already lived through one great war. I doubt she wants to live through another.” He took another drink, his eyes dark with simmering aggression.

  “So you’re basically selling intelligence to men who have a common enemy?”

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  “And you’re making money off it at the same time?”

  He nodded again. “You’re bright and beautiful.”

  The compliment washed over me without seeping into my skin because I was too invested in the conversation to care about anything else. “Who is your enemy and why?” It was a personal question, but since I’d been sleeping with him for two months, I had the right to ask.

  He inserted one hand into his pocket and glanced around to make sure no one was looking. “Russia. Not the people but the leaders. Secretary-General, Boris Peskov, was responsible for the death of my parents, and later, my older brother, Alec.”

  I’d wondered about his family halfway through dinner. If they were alive, they would have been there, so I already made the assumption they were dead. I didn’t realize their death was caused by an international breach of code. “I…I’m sorry.” I actually felt pity in my heart, instantly sad for this man who kept me as a prisoner against my will. When he hurt, I hurt too. He didn’t deserve an ounce of my sympathy, but yet, he had it. I moved into his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him because that was all I knew how to do.

  He stiffened at the touch then wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my head and took a deep breath, his powerful
chest expanding against my cheek. “It was a long time ago.”

  When I pulled away, I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. Our soft mouths pressed together, both tasting like wine and scotch. I stepped back, knowing I shouldn’t give him too much affection in a public place like this.

  He stared at me blankly, like he could hardly believe what I just did.

  “What happened?” I finally asked.

  He stared at me for a few more minutes, his brown eyes soft like melted chocolate. He set his glass down on an empty tray a waiter carried as he passed, and then Crewe inserted his other hand into his pocket. “My father was a duke as well as a diplomat, so they traveled to Russia to discuss an international children’s program. During transfer from the airport to the palace, a lone gunman fired into their car and shot both of my parents. Alec survived and was rescued by Russian police. But he mysteriously fell ill during transport and died before he returned home. At the time, I was very young, so I stayed in Glasgow with Finley. I was just six at the time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. The story was appalling and devastating. One day, his family left and never returned home. “Did they ever figure out who the gunman was?”

  Crewe shook his head. “No. I think the Secretary-General of Russia was behind it.”

  “That’s quite an accusation…”

  “I have my reasons,” he said quietly. “I found out he used to be in love with my mother. He pursued her, but she denied his advances. Then she married my father, someone with more money and power. I suspect he never got over the rejection. So he murdered all of them, including her oldest son.” He said everything without an ounce of emotion, like this wasn’t his own family he was discussing.

  “The queen never moved against them?”

  “Russia is a terrifying country. Without any evidence, there was nothing we could do. The public was angry for the first year, but eventually, people moved on with their lives. Obviously, I never have. So I encourage Russian enemies to do the dirty work for me.”