I could blame my overtiredness or the recent breakup that had me smiling at the sexy Scottish guy with the whitest smile I’d ever seen. But ultimately it was just me who needed to pour everything out. “I was in school. Then decided to follow my boyfriend across the country for gaming conventions and some minor competitions, which didn’t make him or me any money. So I ended up full-time waitressing at a diner and haven’t gone back to school to finish my last semester.”
“Boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. Was that the only thing he got out of that?
“Ex. Recently. I apparently crushed his dreams because I wouldn’t move with him to his grandma’s basement in Tennessee so he could be a professional gamer. Never mind that we both still had only one semester left of school. So when I said no, instead of moving in with his grandma, he moved in with some other gamer girl. Now they have a cat together and post videos that I seriously need to stop watching.”
“Sounds like a real tosser,” Jacob said.
I laughed, not because the statement was all that funny, but more because I’d never actually heard that term said out loud, and in my tired stupor, it made sense.
“Yeah. I guess you could call him a tosser. Whatever that means, it sounds right. Though I could be the tosser in this situation, because I’m the one who can’t seem to move on.”
I blinked hard then took a large gulp of the drink, pushing back the emotion that was threatening to bubble to the surface. I’d cried enough the last few months when I should have been getting my act together. And now I was having the longest conversation I’d had with anyone since Chris and I had broken up, and it was a stranger on a train.
Jacob’s gaze was locked on my face as if he was studying my reaction. “Tosser means fool or idiot. And I don’t think you’re either of those. Maybe a little hardheaded, but it seems like this ex is the real tosser.”
“Is he? But I’m the one who dropped school and followed him across the country. Annnnnd my mom and sister don’t know any of this, and now I’m going to have to break it to them right before my sister’s wedding. She’s marrying an English lord, and here I am, showing up late with news of dropping out of school.” I shook my head, the emotions that were raking through me now pushing to a hard pounding in my chest.
“We’ve all done stupid shite for a relationship.”
I spun toward him, raising an eyebrow, wondering if he was going to continue.
His face was stoic, as if he was deep in thought, with his jaw tight.
Then he laughed, shaking his head, like he was trying to get rid of whatever memory crossed his mind. “If we’re going to swap stories, mind if I sit next to ye, so we don’t have the whole train listening?”
I took a deep breath as I ran my hands through my mess of frizzy red hair. If I looked half as bad as my tired limbs felt, then he couldn’t possibly be interested. But what could it hurt having a conversation—maybe more light flirting—with a guy I’d probably never see again?
“Sure.” I finally grabbed my bag, scooting toward the window, the rain pelting down beside me, the train still on the same tracks.
He grabbed his own bag and got up, sliding in the seat next to me. I scrunched into myself as if somehow I could become smaller and not have my arms rub against his expensive-looking suit coat, though I did get a nice whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing. It smelled like mint and clean laundry. I’d been around a pot-smoking gamer for so long, I forgot what normal men dressed and smelled like.
“So, where were we?” he asked, taking a small sip from his bottle before screwing the cap back on, the action so casual, yet I couldn’t stop staring at the way his lips pursed and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank.
OMG.
Stop. Staring.
“Um…relationship issues?”
He smiled. God, that damn smile and dimple were really getting to me.
“Well, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my ex, but I’m no stranger to bringing bad news home to my family when things don’t go right.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate? That’s pretty dang vague.”
He shook his head. “Let’s just say, being the oldest son in a traditional Scottish family comes with a lot of expectations about relationships, jobs, and everything else. Sometimes it’s hard to live up to those.”
“So you’re saying we’re both the odd ducks of the family?”
He laughed, raising his glass again. “Quack, quack.”
I clinked my bottle to his. “Quack, quack.”
…
It was almost an hour before the train was given the okay to move. Time crawled even as the dreary landscape sped by, the sky still blacker than a tar pit. How the heck the driver saw anything was beyond me.
I should have probably taken a nap or called my sister, but with barely a connection because of the weather, I didn’t bother.
Instead I spent way longer than I thought enthralled in conversation with a guy I’d just met, who asked me more questions about my life than Chris had in our entire relationship. Yet all I seemed to know about Jacob was that he was from Scotland and had a complicated family history, thus he was going to England to meet up with some relatives he hadn’t seen in a while.
When we finally rolled into the Webley train station, I checked my phone for a signal and caught the time.
“Holy shit, when did it get so late?” I said more to myself than anything as I hopped off the train, stepping under a metal awning as raindrops continued assaulting it.
“Shite, it is late. Do you have someone coming to get you?” Jacob asked, looking down at his own phone.
I knew he was right behind me as we got off the train, but I expected him to go off and find whatever family was waiting for him.
“Um, well, I was supposed to call my sister when I got in.” I glanced around at the darkened buildings. “But it’s really late now, and I don’t know if I want to wake her up…or my mom, for that matter.”
He nodded. “We both don’t want to bother our family members or make them get out in this weather, so why don’t we check into an inn? In the maps I’ve seen online, there’s one right on the square. I’m sure they’ll have two rooms for us.”
Warning bells went off in my head about the casual way he was making plans for us. I mean, it was a good plan and we’d each get our own room. I could also send a text to Natalie once I was settled and let her know where I was.
Jacob reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver coin as he took a step closer, holding the object between us.
“How about we flip a coin?”
“A coin?”
He nodded. “Heads, we go to the inn and get a room. Tails, we go our separate ways now.”
Maybe it was jet lag or the long ride, but my lips moved before I could really think. “Okay, flip it.”
He grinned, his eyes meeting mine as he tossed the coin up, catching it and holding it on his palm.
The face of Queen Elizabeth looked at me in profile.
Heads.
Chapter Two
Jacob
I had a solid plan when I booked my ticket. First, get on a train to Webley, England. Second, use the invitation addressed to my great-grandfather, from a family member we’d never met or spoken to, to get inside the manor. And third, save the MacWebley legacy. My legacy.
Easy enough.
Except the MacWebleys and the Webleys had been on the outs ever since my great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother had split. Since divorce had been frowned upon back then, and so Grandmother Mairi could keep her title as a Lady, Grandfather Arran had given her Webley Manor before he went back to Scotland.
I’d only ever heard of the place from Great-Grandfather’s stories when I was little. He’d told me how the MacWebleys had tried to reach out to pass the olive branch in years pa
st, but all instances had been ignored. Then when my family’s financial situation had gotten worse, my grandfather and father had tried again to talk to the Webleys and ask for some help. They’d even sent a formal letter and gotten nothing in response.
This familial feud was all I had thought about for years.
These days, Great-Grandfather didn’t speak much of the family. Actually, he didn’t talk much at all except to ask one of his nurses where the damn remote was so he could watch Limmy’s Show. But he’d supported me when I failed out of uni and became the odd duck of the family, and restoring our legacy was the least I could do for him.
It would also put me back in everyone’s good graces.
As the oldest of the MacWebley clan, I figured Webley Manor or at least some part of it should be mine to inherit. It might have been granted as a gift, but technically it was the MacWebleys who had poured everything into building it from the ground up. Some part of it should belong to us, right?
I just had to find proof of this, cash in with the Webleys, and redeem myself to my family by easing our financial situation.
It was this or marrying the woman my parents had picked.
But the vile baroness was my last resort.
The former was the better option.
And I could get on with step two of my plan if the rain would ever die down. Did it bloody always storm like there was going to be a flood in England?
“So…are we going to do this?”
Madison’s southern twang sprung me out of my own mind as I looked from the window and back to her.
She was the kind of woman who I normally wouldn’t pay any mind to, with her wavy hair in a small ponytail, a few strands framing the freckles that dotted along her face. She was dressed plainly in a faded shirt that read “Raleigh Beer Trail” and looked like either a tourist shop find or a free pub shirt.
But not only was she darn cute and funny, she was also the sister of the soon-to-be Lady of Webley. The exact place I needed to get to.
Couldn’t hurt to be on her good side.
I tilted my head. “Do what? Try to make it to the inn in this rain?”
She giggled again, her nose wrinkling and eyes at half mast that brought attention to the tiny trail of freckles that ran along the corner of each eye.
Bloody hell, she really was cute.
She almost made me forget what I was really going to Webley to do.
After the invitation to the Webley wedding wound up at our place after years of not even a Christmas card between the families—or, hell, an answer to any previous requests for help over the last one hundred years—I’d promised Great-Grandfather to meet the family in his place and tell them his dying wish was to see them.
History showed that our pleas wouldn’t sway them, so I’d have to make them see that the MacWebleys were still around and that we had a claim to Webley. If there was any proof in that damn manor, I would find it.
So now was not the time to get distracted by a pretty face. Although arriving with Madison could help ease the way in with the Webleys. That was my reasoning for sticking with her. Nothing more.
I searched around until I saw the wooden sign, flapping in the breeze. I pointed at it. “Look. Over there.”
“Webley Bed and Breakfast” was barely visible, scrawled against birchwood, a small light shining on it. Hopefully the old Tudor was still open. The porch light was on, at least, so that was hope for something.
I glanced at Madison, her bleary eyes struggling to stay open. “Are you ready to make a run for it?”
She nodded. “Ready.”
“Wait…” I stopped and quickly shucked off my jacket, holding it out to her. “Here.”
She blinked. “Um, don’t you need that?”
“I’m not going to let you get drenched. It’s not an umbrella or a pair of wellies, but if you hold it over your head, it should give you some protection.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Really, Jacob.”
I thrust the jacket closer to her. “Please? I wouldn’t be a proper gentleman if I didn’t.”
“Really? You’re going with the gentleman thing?” She raised her eyebrows, putting her hands on her hips.
“We could keep arguing about this just so you could prove a point, but then we’ll both be soaked.” I wiggled the jacket at her.
“Fine,” she huffed, finally taking the damn thing and holding it over her head. “Happy?”
I didn’t answer, only smiled before stepping beside her. “All right, on the count of three. One,” I said slowly, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Two, three!” She yelped before shooting out into the watery night, her beat-up trainers splashing in a huge puddle.
I darted after her, yelling over the pelting rain. “You cheated!”
“It’s not a race, unless I win, that is.” She laughed, her voice drowned out by the rain.
“Oh, it’s on.” The water had soaked through my trousers, dragging me down like wet cement, but through every little puddle, Madison’s squeals of delight came louder, and so did the heavy beating of my heart.
Being with her was the first time I’d relaxed or laughed in days, and even though it was freezing and I was soaked, I would have stayed and played in the rain with her as long as she asked me.
By the time we landed on the front porch, I almost wanted to say screw it and go back into the stormy weather. But one look at her clothes, just as soaked as mine and weighing her down like a pile of rags, I knew it was probably best not to give her a cold before her sister’s wedding.
“Ladies first,” I said, opening the door of the inn.
A gray-haired lady stood behind a small desk, half asleep as she kept poking at a piece of needlework. She stirred in her seat, adjusting her glasses and giving us a small smile. “Hello, welcome. Just get in from the train? We had a big rush.”
I smiled politely, half my mind focusing on the lady, the other trying to calculate exactly how much this would cost, because there was no way I was going to make Madison pay for her own room. But my own budget was limited.
Maybe the lady would accept my Prada loafers as an exchange? They were the last ones I had been able to keep, and at the price tag my sister paid for the pair from Harvey Nichols, I’d be able to get at least a few hundred pounds on GumTree.
“Yes, we were hoping to get two rooms for tonight.”
Her face fell as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but we only have one room left.”
My shoulders stilled as I glanced behind me to the floral settee where Madison had sat under the bay window as the rain continued to pound outside. Did she hear what the woman said? If so, she didn’t show it, too busy trying to keep my soaked jacket from creating a puddle on the floor. A lost cause.
I leaned on the desk, so the water dripping from my hair landed in large drops on the mahogany counter. “Does it at least have two beds?”
“Sir, I assure you that our rooms are quite comfortable, being that this was the first inn built in Webley. We have updated with modern amenities, and a lovely new chaise was just added to our Iris suite that would work for sleeping while your, uh…” She stopped briefly, her smile barely faltering as she glanced at Madison soaking into the couch. “Your travel companion could take the bed.”
I ran my fingers over the intricate carvings on the desk. The thistle intertwined with the rose. How many times had I seen this similar symbol? Scotland and England’s symbol of unity. This was what I was here for, to preserve this family history. The MacWebleys needed this.
I just had absolutely no idea where to start my search, even with the sister of the Webley heir’s bride sitting right behind me.
A good night sleep would make it all clear.
What precious little money I had left in my account probably shouldn’t have been going to a room, but
it was either that or march into Webley without a solid plan and soaking wet from the rain.
Not the best first impression.
And hopefully this would all be worth it in the end.
“Wonderful,” the woman said, her hands flitting to the computer as she booked us in.
After getting a key and a town map of Webley, I sauntered over where Madison sat on the couch. “Looks like they did have room for us. But there is only one room.”
She gulped, her eyes widening. “Um…I thought we agreed to two rooms?”
I sighed. “Yes, I know. Unfortunately, they’re pretty booked and only had one. Don’t worry. There is a couch that I’ll sleep on. And if that makes you uncomfortable, I can just leave. Find somewhere else.”
I tried to hold my face still, but my shoulders shook. I just paid a pretty penny for the room and was out of options of where else to go.
“It’s fine. We can share, the room that is, not anything else,” she blurted then stopped, her hand on her suitcase as she clumsily fumbled with the handle.
Yanking the lever up on her luggage, I pulled it next to my own. She blinked as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing but didn’t argue. Then she walked in step with me down a golden-wallpapered hallway until we reached the last door. It read “The Iris Suite,” engraved into the dark wood.
“This is the room, I assume,” I said, pushing the key to the lock and letting out a silent sigh of relief when it opened.
For the price I’d paid, I assumed the greatest of opulence. I was sure when this place was built, it probably was. But now the gold and green filigree wallpaper and the canopy bed draped in maroon and gold lace looked more like something out of an Edgar Wallace movie.
“So, this is updated,” I grumbled, rolling our luggage to the small coffee table that sat in front of a maroon chaise.
Madison’s shoes creaked on the wood floor as she surveyed the room. “I bet my sister would love this place. She’s a historian and could probably tell you every little thing about every piece in here.” She glanced through the open bathroom door. “Like how this clawfoot tub has royal origins or something and why it needs to be here instead of the shower I was hoping for.”
Heirly Ever After Page 2
