Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Artair

Returning from a parliamentary meeting in London usually offered me time for introspection—time to ponder and turn over all the legalese discussed and find a way to navigate a path through that best honored the Scottish people, our land, our heritage.

However, that wasn't the case this trip. Instead, I found myself consumed by watching a young woman waiting to get on the same plane as myself. Or at least I assumed so, based on her frequent head-turning toward the screen that showed our take off time and any changes.

Our flight had already been delayed twice, making me groan that I'd chosen business class over my personal jet, but as it was an all-expenses-paid trip, I couldn't charge the crown for my personal fuel as there was a limit to what they'd pay for.

After she'd turned her head, the young woman would go back to looking at her phone for maybe thirty seconds before wiggling in her seat and looking once again at the screen.

She appeared like a typical American, but on a longer perusal, her looks reflected a Scottish or perhaps Irish ancestry. Her pale, delicate skin and gorgeous, piercing blue eyes were accentuated by the rich auburn-brown color of her hair which hung in heavy waves down just past the middle of her back. She was a real looker.

She hadn't stood up yet, but from the flair of her hips in her tight jeans, her arse promised to be full and firm. That was my favorite body part on any woman, but on her, with so many other assets, it would be hard to choose only one.

The screen had changed several minutes ago, but contrary to her persistent scanning of the board, she didn't move, staring off into space. She was looking, but not seeing, and was in danger of missing her flight. I waited as long as I could and was about to approach her when she blinked several times and jumped to her feet. She swung an enormous pack that a woman as tiny as she should never have to carry. As she did, something tore and tiny beads bounced as they dropped to the floor, scattering in too many directions to be retrieved, had she the time.

Huffing, she finished tossing on her pack halfway and almost ran toward the departure stand. As tall as I was, close to 6'7", I was at her back in just a few strides. I smiled at the gate agent. The young woman in front of me froze and attempted to turn. Her pack slipped, throwing her off balance and she would have fallen had I not reached out and steadied her.

I took her pack, making note of the name on a luggage tag hanging from the strap, and carried it down the bridge to our flight, shooing Luna in front of me as this particular boarding bridge was very narrow and for a large man carrying two bags, there was no room beside me for her to walk. It worked out for me, offering a perfect view of her ass, and I was right, it was sexy as hell. The way she swayed her hips made her plump arse wiggle and jiggle. I wanted to reach out and grip her buttocks in my hands.

Down boy . This wasn't the time to be unprofessional!

Even through a curtain that separated us, I could feel every nerve in her body vibrating in overdrive. I didn't like that she was so stressed out, no one should be, and there was such a vulnerability about her that it seemed criminal for her to not be encased in bubble wrap for the rest of her life.

In my line of work as a criminal lawyer, the boundaries were very clear between good and bad behavior. My job was to be able to read people and, in that environment, it was a fairly simple task. Politics was an entirely other game and not one I was hugely fond of, but I hoped my service would make a difference.

Our family name had fallen since our ancestor, Lord Darnley, who married Mary Queen of Scots, caught syphilis and died. Although some believed he was murdered, there was certainly enough evidence to say that murder was attempted at least twice in his short span as king consort.

The Lennoxes fell out of favor with the powers that be in both England and Scotland at that time and remained that way for a few hundred years, despite my family's attempt to fill in the gap.

Had things gone differently for Lord Darnley, perhaps our bloody history could have been avoided. It wasn't until my grandfather that our family began to move back to its ancestral seat and finally rebuild our branch of the royal Lennoxes.

You could tell Luna was not made for the harshness the world had become, where battles were no longer fought among men on a field of glory, but in the streets, in the political realms, with corporations and the highest bidder. Indeed, the way the world was going, where was the line between good and bad, right and wrong. Just because the state said something was so, didn't mean that justice was winning.

These heavy thoughts often weighed on me and Luna was the freshest person I'd met in too long a time. She couldn't lie if her life depended on it and her entire life's experience, which I gathered to be approximately twenty-one years, she wore on her sleeve. Her innocence called to every instinct I had to protect her, so I found myself saying things that surprised even me. For a man well-rehearsed in dialogue and controlling the conversation, her raw responses surprised me.

I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. There was a plethora of not-so-nice men who would love to gaslight this woman for their personal gain. The thought of her being taken advantage of had rage boiling up inside of me. Protecting her for as long as she was in Scotland became my new mission. During the flight home, there was plenty of time to consider how I wanted to move forward with her. Yes, her safety was a primary concern, but desire certainly played its part as well. I wanted her and I wouldn't hold that back, but with me, she could relax, be her authentic self, and enjoy whatever this was… A vacation? Or perhaps she came to Scotland seeking answers like many progenies of Scottish descent had over the years.

Regardless, there was nothing pressing in my schedule, allowing me time to devote to showing her Scotland's hidden gems. A loud crash followed by a forceful "ouch!" pulled me from my musings.

Luna was down for the count, a piece of luggage on the floor beside her. I could tell by the look she gave me that she was angry and had passed her limit some time ago. She glared up at me and the flight attendant beside me, who'd been hovering too close since I boarded the plane. Little Luna was jealous, and I'd be a liar if I said it didn't please me. She'd felt something for me, attraction most likely. Turning that interest into a deep-seated, passionate need was on my new to-do list. A list that had Luna as a top priority.

"All you had to do was ask, lass," I said, handing her the heavy bag from the overhead compartment. I spoke quietly enough, but her stiffened shoulders spoke volumes. When she crossed her arms, wearing an adorable pout, my palm itched to spank her naughty bottom and have her lips part in an "O" as I pleasured her instead.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt the good time you were having." She quickly uncrossed her arms and pressed them down her sides. Her eyes turned glassy as she fought back tears. Whatever internal battle she'd been waging to get here, was about to get the better of her. I didn't chase her when she pushed past everyone to get to the front of the plane and the exit door.

I watched from the stairs as she raced across the tarmac without a jacket and swore I'd punish her for not taking care of herself. With my long strides, I soon caught up to her and remained a few places back in line as we passed through customs.

My heart wanted to take over when I saw the defeat and indecision in her eyes as she took in the weather and the lack of transport. Although, for the Scottish born, the weather was typical, but Stateside, being September, it was relatively warm in most places, and she'd clearly come from one of those.

Time for me to come to her rescue, whether she wanted my help or not. When I approached her, she acted like a brat, no surprise as I was sure acting bratty was her modus operandi when she was overwhelmed.

She might not know it, but the light was behind us and shone in her eyes despite the gray day. The moving clouds reflected there were a clear reminder of how stormy her feelings were at the moment.

"How do I know it's safe? I mean, how do I know you won't hurt me?"

"Oh, I'll most certainly hurt you. But not in the way you're imagining. Did you know that when one's arse has been striped with a belt and the blood flows to that area, the entire body heats up?" Being upfront was the only way to push through her defenses and I had no compunction about being honest with her.

"You mean you're going to spank me?"

"Oh, most definitely." I smirked at the look of desire in those beautiful blue pools.

With the redirection of her thoughts, she appeared to settle and consider my words. "What if I don't want you to?" she asked, with a hint of challenge in her eyes.

Was she really trying to challenge me? Adorable!

"I'd call you a liar."

Her gasp was audible, even in the stormy weather with a host of chattering Scots surrounding us.

"By agreeing to the offer of a ride, am I also agreeing to be spanked?"

"I'm not rude, lass, I would still offer you a ride, but it would end there. If you agree to a well-deserved spanking, then you're agreeing to more than that." She may as well know now that I wanted to spend time with her and get to know her better and her reasons for being here. "Come with me. I will drive you to your hotel and then we can go for dinner, if your mind isn't made up by then that I'm not a criminal out to harm you, we will part ways, amicably."

After taking my photo and typing in my name, she sent it to a friend. I was happy she was finally thinking and taking her safety seriously. She called me and when I answered, I asked her a question, using the phone as a device to hopefully set her at ease.

"Do I have your permission to take you on a date and show you around my home?"

"Home?"

"Aye, Scotland."

She appeared to be considering my proposal. One could almost say waging an inner battle, while I fought my own war of what my next move would be if she said no. I guess I could stop pushing and leave it at a ride and dinner, but my gut told me that if I won here and now, then the rest would be easy. It was all up to her.

"Yes, Artair, you have my permission, for now. If dinner and the ride aren't up to snuff, then the deal is off."

I texted my driver and told him to stay in the parking lot and I would come to him. There was something in her response and me taking her by the hand after shouldering her baggage that felt right, and I wanted this first moment to last. My driver nodded to me when we arrived, calling me Sir, and opened the door for Luna, who hesitated to get in.

"Take his picture too, lass, his name is Graeme Erskine and can be easily found as employed by Lord Artair Grant McFarlane."

Her mouth dropped open in that "O" I'd been dying to see, but it wasn't in pleasure as I'd desired, but in surprise. She opted to not photograph Graeme and crawled into the vehicle instead. I followed after her, pulling the seat belt across her lap and doing it up. I opened the bar and poured her an ounce of whiskey from the Isle of Islay. "Here, lass, this will warm you up."

"Where to, Sir?" Graeme asked.

I looked at Luna. "Would you prefer to check in first, or have dinner?"

"I think I'd like to change into dry clothing. So check in first please." Her energy had done a complete 180. She was no longer antsy and shifting like at the airport before takeoff.

"Where are you staying?"

"Oh!" She giggled. "I don't know why I thought you knew. Uh, the Clayton Hotel on Clyde street."

"On it, Sir," Graeme answered before I could give him further instructions.

She'd chosen downtown Glasgow instead of the west side, interesting. That ruled out her being a student. "Lass, can I ask, are you in Glasgow for business or pleasure?"

"Huh?" She pulled her gaze from the window to me then blinked a few times as if she'd been very far away and was only now coming back to the present. "Pleasure?" She blushed. "Uh, I guess you could say that. I've always wanted to come here, and the timing was right."

My antenna was up. What type of timing was the "right timing"? It either involved money, or based on her age, she may have just finished school and needed a change of scenery or perhaps someone died and left her some money to do what she wanted and here she was. I wouldn't push to know those reasons as I felt confident the timing she'd alluded to would come to light, and it wasn't important, it was just my lawyer brain wanting to know every detail.

When we arrived, I hustled her inside and quickly upgraded her room, although she wasn't aware of that fact. Scotland's version of a concierge and the multitude of brochures held her enthralled near the entrance. When check-in was complete, I took her hand and escorted her to the top floor where her suite awaited. Her lips parted in such a delicious way when the door opened and she got her first glimpse of the inside. I was imagining those sexy full lips wrapped around my cock.

She raced to the window and threw back the curtains. "Look!" she cried excitedly. "It's the River Clyde!"

I placed her bag down and joined her. "That it is, lass. Did you know that up until a hundred years ago, men bathed in that river?"

"Seriously? Were there no showers?"

I was only thirty-six, but her question reminded me there was definitely an age gap between us. "Aye, there were restrooms, but they were mostly shared. Back then, men were safe to come to the river once a week at a specific time to bathe."

"What about women? Did they have a special day too?"

Dare I tell her that the laundresses could use the same river to do laundry, but did not have a day specifically set aside to do their own bathing? Nope! The very idea that women didn't have the same rights to bathe as the men would definitely piss her off and get her riled up. One thing I'd learned about North American women, despite having darker desires to be dominated in the bedroom, in no way did they appreciate how women had been treated historically. It was best to steer clear of that conversation, or at least leave it for another day when she wasn't riding the wave of exhaustion.

"Why don't you change, lass, and I'll take you to dinner."

"Right! I almost forgot." She unzipped her bag and dug through until she found a pair of slacks and a sweater, definitely better for the cool evening, and with another bag in her hand, went off to get changed.

"Oh my god!"

I raced down the hall to the bathroom and pounded on the locked door, on high alert, and fearing she'd hurt herself.

"Luna, open the door!"

She did, wearing a huge grin. "Look at the tub, Artair, I can't wait to try it."

"You screamed over a tub?"

She looked down at the floor, her smile disappearing.

Way to go idiot, now she's closed up again.

"I'm surprised you didn't shout louder; I mean look at that view!" I said, shifting the dialogue to a positive.

Her head snapped up, the smile returning. "Right? I'm so excited to be here. They must have upgraded me because I'm sure I didn't book one of these."

Again, not a conversation to have now, or maybe at all. "I've heard it's like seats on planes; if they like you and they have availability, they'll upgrade. Now, you finish getting ready. I need to make a call."

"Okay." She closed the door.

I placed a call to The Buttery and reserved a private dining room. A quick look at the weather conditions outside told me the rain had stopped. With the restaurant only a mile from the hotel, walking after sitting for so many hours seemed appropriate and messaged Graeme with instructions to collect us from The Buttery at 10 pm. I had no doubt that after a full belly, Little Luna would be tired and in need of sleep by then.