I tried to imagine what it would have been like when the MacWebleys lived here. Whether my ancestors had used this same fireplace. Whether they’d always had this many books.
I had to find my family history, a definite proof of who I was and what this would mean for the MacWebleys.
I thumbed through the first collection of books closest to the door, noticing the alphabetical order of the fiction works. I scanned the rows, wondering how in the hell they had this all organized. Was there some sort of a Dewey Decimal system in place? Maybe a computer catalog?
Rounding the leather settee near the fireplace, I made my way to the large desk by one of the French windows. A gold magnifying glass sat on top of a stack of yellowing books, the writing handprint instead of the usual stamped method I’d seen in some of the older books that were still around our home.
Pushing aside the magnifying glass, I leaned closer, inspecting the words. It seemed I wouldn’t need to dig through the entire library to find what I was looking for.
On 1st of June, Lord Lachlan MacWebley asked for the hand of Mairi Cornish, daughter of high-ranking military official, Charles Cornish.
I read over the words again carefully. So, this was where Natalie had been getting her information about the wedding traditions.
This was also the first time I’d seen Mairi’s name, my great-great-great-grandmother, mentioned, since she hadn’t been brought up much outside of the scandal of her divorcing the MacWebley family.
In honor of their engagement, the MacWebleys have broken ground on Webley Manor, a wedding gift for the couple from the elder MacWebleys.
That part I didn’t know, but did that mean for my family?
Did this prove it did belong to the MacWebleys originally?
Maybe I needed someone to look over this. Or at least my sister.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I took a few photos of the pages and then flipped to the next few.
“This doesn’t look like the bedroom.”
A chill crawled down my neck as I slowly turned to see Madison standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She was still as stunning as ever in the long black gown, but instead of the blush on her cheeks, she wore a stern expression, eyes narrowed and lips turned into a frown.
“I was just checking out some of the material your sister was talking about. Thought it would be some nice reading before bed.” I leaned against the desk, placing my palms against the cool wooden surface as I tried to keep my bearings straight, not getting distracted by her words.
Or her legs, for that matter.
She slinked into the room, each step going to the same rhythm as my heart that felt like it was about to leap out of my chest.
“Really? Or was this just an escape from my future brother-in-law’s family?”
I let out a breath and laughed. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, you know? You could have just said you needed a break,” she said, stopping within a few centimeters of me, giving me a full view to appreciate the dress and how her slight curves fit into the silky material.
She could have worn a paper bag and still been gorgeous. But the way she stood in this dress with a new air of confidence strutting forward had my mouth watering.
I kept my hands gripped on the desk to force myself not to touch her and keep from complicating things.
“Thought you might be used to all of this fancy nobility stuff,” she said. “You even knew all of those dessert names.”
I couldn’t even bite back my laugh. “Cranachan is nothing more than oats, cream, berries, and whiskey. Hardly a fancy dessert. Neither are the fondant fancies or sponge, that is, if you know how to use the mixer.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. You’re so funny.”
“Not trying to be funny, just telling you the truth. I’m not a man who goes out of his way to have lavish seven-course meals every night.”
She raised her eyebrow, her hips brushing against my leg as she pushed past me, then leaned on the desk next to me. Our bodies weren’t touching, but the heat from her was palpable. One little movement and I could have my hands on that dress.
Have it on the floor.
Have her.
I had to get a grip and stay in safe territory.
“The MacWebleys aren’t exactly the same as the Webleys.”
Madison nodded. “I could tell that about you as soon as I met you.”
“How is that?” I raised an eyebrow, watching that cute blush spread to her cheeks again.
“Well, one, you smile more. And two, I could never see Gavin or any of his family taking public transportation.”
My shoulders slumped. If only she realized that I hadn’t had any other choice.
“Probably not,” I said, “though I didn’t expect the bride’s sister to be on a train, either.”
She sighed, the blush draining from her cheeks as she looked down at her hands, picking at the skin around her fingernails. “Natalie offered to send a car for me so I wouldn’t have to take the train, but there’s something about growing up poor that just made it seem like I was taking advantage.”
“Poor?” I asked.
The Webleys were marrying peasants now?
She laughed, but there was no humor to it. “Well, not like we lived in poverty, but my dad died when I was really young, so my mother raised Natalie and me the best she could with little money…until she got sick.”
My chest tightened as she continued.
“Cancer. It’s a real bitch. And medical bills were piling up just as Natalie graduated college. She took care of Mom and me the best she could but wouldn’t let me drop out of college to get a job, even if it was just fast food. So she ended up here, working as the curator.”
“Medical bills? They charge someone for cancer in America?”
She sniffled. “Yeah, absurd, isn’t it? Hospital bills are ridiculously high, and since we couldn’t pay them right away, they went to collections. Thousands upon thousands of dollars in debt and my sister had to leave the country just to make a dent in expenses.”
“Is your mother better now…?” I asked tentatively, thinking about her quiet demeanor.
Madison nodded. “Yeah, thanks to my sister and, you know, really good doctors.” She sighed. “But I could have done more. Mom and Madison kept saying, ‘No, no, don’t worry, just finish school.’ They never let me know how bad she was. I was off dancing at clubs with a fake ID and not having a care in the world while my sister was struggling to support the woman who raised us. Then…you know…one shitty boy and of course I screwed up everything they worked for.”
Her words trembled as the air around us changed, cocooning us in the space together.
“They didn’t want you to worry. And I’m sure they’ll understand what happened with the shitty boy,” I assured her, putting my hand on hers without meaning to and instinctively brushing my thumb against her knuckles, hoping to soothe her.
“I just had no idea how bad it was with Mom. Then Natalie left and we kept getting all these bills. I just stared at the numbers, wondering how the hell we would ever afford it.” She blew out a breath, shaking her head so a few loose curls brushed against her shoulders. “Sorry, I shouldn’t spill all of this to you. You probably don’t understand any of this, just like I don’t understand fancy desserts.”
If only she knew.
“My great-grandfather’s very ill. We don’t have the same problem with medical bills, but there’s a certain shift when the head of a family falls,” I said softly, thinking about the man laying back in his bed, waiting with his last breath for me to come home with good news. News I wasn’t sure I could deliver.
“It’s weird seeing your protectors helpless.”
I nodded, rolling my thumb over the back of her palm. “It’s why I bake. It’s th
e only solace I can find. When the world spins too fast around me, I can get lost in something else. I don’t have to think about his ailments or what my parents are doing. Just me and the dough.”
“Sounds like me with art,” she mused softly.
“Should have stayed around to work on the fondant fancies with me.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know if I could have done that after the dish room.”
Hell, I could barely get back to work after that, either. So I understood.
“Well, some other time, then,” I said, nodding as if it were that easy. But I was sure deep down we both realized that this could be the last week we ever saw each other.
That we should both stay away.
Yet as my thumb moved up to her wrist, I found my hand itching for more of her. To not only feel her, but to talk to her. To keep her close and stop pushing away.
“Yeah, maybe some other time.”
We sat there in silence. Not a sound between us but the heavy beating of my heart.
This wasn’t only about breaking the girl’s heart anymore. She had an entire family riding on all of this. It explained why she was so attached to her sister and why she wanted this to go smoothly.
Shite, this was even bloody more complicated than before.
“I guess I should probably return this dress to Cecily,” she said but didn’t stand, her breathing shallow.
“So that’s why you two were so chummy at dinner? Sharing clothes and secrets now?” I said, smiling to try and break the tension, even though my damn cock wasn’t getting the memo as my eyes roamed over the curve of her breasts in that tight dress.
“I didn’t tell her anything bad about you and she didn’t ask, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she blurted, turning her head away. Probably so I wouldn’t see embarrassment on her face.
But I didn’t want her to fear me. To hide anything.
And she wasn’t.
I was the one keeping things from her.
“That’s not what I was asking,” I murmured, leaning forward as I put my hand to her cheek, slowly turning her to face me.
Those hazel eyes met mine, her lips parted slightly. That one look said everything I was feeling.
That there was something here.
That we both knew what was at stake.
Yet I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
My mouth crushed to hers, a guttural moan escaping her throat. She tasted sweet, like sweet red wine, her hair brushing my cheeks as my senses overloaded with the smell of her perfume and feel of her warm skin to mine.
Deepening our kiss, I put my free hand to her hip, the soft fabric of the dress gliding through my fingers as her skin warmed beneath.
She moved as close as we could while sitting next to each other. But that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to get lost in her. I’d find a way to fix everything later, but for now I needed this. Needed her.
Gripping onto one of her legs, she gasped as I shifted her body to my lap, her legs straddling my hips. My cock strained at my trousers as she pressed her heat against me. Nothing between us but my pants and her panties, the dress pushed aside.
Moving my other hand to her waist, I grasped her hips, moving her body against mine as our tongues danced together.
She moaned into my mouth, her tongue flicking against my lips as she rubbed her core against my aching cock.
Shite, I should have stopped it. I needed to stop this.
“I want you so bad right now,” she whispered into my lips.
I didn’t have a condom or any protection. Though it would probably be the ultimate screw-you to the Webleys if I impregnated the sister of the bride on the library desk.
“Not here, Madison,” I whispered, nipping at her bottom lip.
She stopped, her entire body going rigid in my lap. “Yeah…um…you’re probably right.”
It was as if a bucket of cold water had doused the situation as she slid off my lap and then pulled away, giving me a fantastic view of the open back of her dress and the small dimples right above her arse.
There went my cock back to life and questioning my reasoning for stopping her.
“I’ll see you back in the room, whenever you come in. I’ll probably be in bed, though. Um, first going to return this to Cecily,” she said quickly, already straightening the dress and walking toward the door.
“Madison, wait,” I called, putting my hand out since I was unable to stand up at the moment unless I wanted to give her a view of the large tent in my trousers.
She shook her head, only looking slightly over her shoulders. “Don’t. Okay? Let’s just call it a night.”
With that, she turned back and headed out the door before I could utter another word.
I couldn’t even think about getting back to my research at that moment.
All I could think about was her taste still on my lips.
Her words ringing in my ears.
Now things just got a whole lot bloody more difficult that I knew what was at stake for her if the MacWebleys did have a real claim to this manor.
Fucking hell was I in trouble.
Chapter Eleven
Madison
What in the hell was I doing?
I had no business grinding on some Scottish royal guy in the middle of a library. The library of a large manor that my sister was set to own because she was marrying said lord’s cousin in a few days.
I needed to stay far away from Jacob MacWebley and everything that came with him.
From the way Gavin’s parents eyed him, I had a feeling there was more to the bad reception than just him being the odd duck of the Scottish side of the family. Maybe it had something to do with what he’d been doing in the library. Looking for a book? But of what?
I could figure out a way to subtly ask my sister or Cecily, but after the little library excursion, I just wanted to go to my room, shut the door, and hide out in there as long as I could.
Peeling off Cecily’s dress, I folded it neatly and left a note for one of the maids who would come and take it in the middle of the night, like they seemed to do with all of my clothes. Even my dress from earlier in the day was already laundered, smelling of fresh lilacs, and hung up in the wardrobe across from the huge four-post bed.
The one I was currently alone in.
There wasn’t a TV in the bedroom, and I hadn’t seen one in the sitting room. Even if there was, I wasn’t going to go out there and see if Jacob had come back.
Nope.
Like the coward I was, I would hide out for as long as I possibly could.
Pulling my phone off the nightstand, I absently scrolled through social media. I saw so many friends from college or high school with drama-filled posts that I instantly forgot about as soon as I went onto the next meme. What was the point of social media? And why did I stay on so many sites when I rarely interacted with anyone? Although it was a great way to get info on others.
Hmm.
I typed in a name in the search bar.
Lachlan Jacob MacWebley the Third.
There wasn’t much on the guy; hell, he didn’t even have a single social media account. Not even LinkedIn. But another Lachlan MacWebley popped up. The black and white photo of an older gentleman with a dimpled smile that I’d recognize anywhere.
Clicking on the article, I read over the headline.
The End of the MacWebleys?
What the hell?
So I sat up and read on.
The surname MacWebley used to be associated amongst the top clans and nobility of Scotland. At least that was the case over one hundred years ago, before ancestor Laird Lachlan MacWebley split from his wife Mairi, giving her Webley Manor in England.
But that was only the beginning.
What once was a family with one of the largest manors t
his side of Loch Ness now has seen their historic home fall in ruins as the last remaining members sell off their own historic valuables just to stay afloat.
When asked for a comment on the familial situation and the state of the great-grandson of the original Lachlan and his health, the family declined, saying it was a private matter.
I leaned back against the fluffy pillows.
Holy. Shit.
I knew there was more to Jacob’s story, but I didn’t think it had to do with his family being broke. Was that the real reason he was here? Would he ask for a loan from the English family? Should I ask him?
Shaking my head, I let out a breath. He would ask how I knew, and then I’d have to admit searching him online.
This kinda explained why he hadn’t looked at me with pity when I’d told him about my mom and our bills or my breakup. Because he understood it.
I groaned, putting a pillow over my face.
That just made the guy that much more appealing, knowing that he wasn’t just some spoiled nobleman.
Maybe I could talk to my sister about all of this.
Or maybe she already knew?
The thoughts kept roaming my head all night. I tossed and turned, barely able to get any sleep as I debated on what to do, until the morning light streamed in through the windows and I couldn’t stay in bed any longer.
Which meant I’d eventually have to face Jacob with the new information I had.
But first I had to get ready.
So what if I spent an extra-long time in the shower then did my hair and makeup with precision before I got on my riding outfit? Also, not my fault he was already out of the room when I headed out toward my sister’s sitting room area.
The doors were open, and if I thought Cecily was a goddess in a dress before, she looked even more like she just walked out of a magazine in her tight khaki pants, tall brown riding boots without a speck of dust on them, and tailored black jacket. We might have been wearing similar outfits, but there was no way I filled out mine like she did with her curves.
Heirly Ever After Page 13
