Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

Epic Entrances: When Love Collides…Literally

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

A dull throb in my temples yanked me from a sea of gloom. Moaning, I blinked open my eyes. Sunlight filled my room, searing my corneas. Too bright! I squeezed my lids tightly closed.

Had I contracted some sort of virus on my flight home?

Wait. Did I fly home? Or board a plane? Or drive to the airport? Or leave the hotel? I scoured my brain for the last available memory.

We're going to trade, you and I .

A woman's smug voice filled my head, confusing me further. Out of habit, I reached up to stroke my dad's necklace and stiffened. The coin. It was gone.

Heart thudding, I forced my lids to open for good. Ugh. Still too bright. I didn't care. Desperate to find my most prized possession, I patted the area around me. No sign of the necklace. But I refused to panic. No doubt the piece had gotten tangled in the sheets.

I slipped my gaze over the expanse of pink silk—um. Silk? Widening my search, I discovered a matching canopy hanging over an iron railing. Not something I'd seen before. Nor was the high ceiling covered in copper tiles. Or the crystal chandelier centered between four marble columns that bordered a tiered dais. Where was I?

A spacious room of pure luxury greeted me as I eased into an upright position. Stunning florals papered the walls, and sheer white material draped recessed windows. The sitting area boasted two velvet settees, a mother-of-pearl coffee table topped by a vase overflowing with fresh primrose, and two portraits of a gorgeous redhead.

This definitely wasn't my farmhouse or the hotel. Especially considering a small black and white ball of fluff with wild eyes and what looked to be a fortune of diamonds around her throat perched atop a plump pillow at the foot of the bed, judging me for everything I'd ever done and a million things I hadn't.

Were those stones the real deal? Inner shake. Focus! Canine . I geared up for an uncontrollable sneezing fit. Seconds passed.

Minutes.

Nothing happened.

I don't understand . I could breathe, but the dog was right there . A nametag dangled from the collar. Thora . Hmm. That name. I'd heard it from someone.

Oh! Isobel! That's right . The redhead. My gaze zoomed back to a portrait of her smug face. You'll love my sweet Thora .

Why would I be here with Isobel's dog? "Staring is rude," I told the pooch .

She bared her teeth and growled.

Oookay. Note to self: Do not initiate a conversation with the furbaby.

I kicked my legs over the side of the ultra-soft mattress, determined to investigate my surroundings further and escape the tiny beastie. Yes, I said beastie like a true Scot. I stood–Whoa! And the shocks keep coming . I sank onto the edge of the bed, an ivory gown overlaid with delicate rose-patterned lace falling into place over my dangling calves.

A wedding gown. A sexy wedding gown. The cinched bodice dipped deeply in the center, revealing a swell of cleavage, while the free-flowing skirt sported a hip to hem slit on each side. Scarlet stilettos hugged my feet, complimenting the black cherry polish now decorating my toenails.

Surely I hadn't married some man I'd just met and couldn't remember. Mouth going dry, I yanked my left hand up to my face, expecting to find zero rings. My jaw slackened. No! No, no, no. This wasn't possible. I might not have my necklace, but I'd gained a ginormous rock.

No way book nerd Miss Darcy would ever forget her wedding .

Trembling, I removed the ring to search for an inscription. Anything that might offer a nugget of information. Etched inside the gold band were three circles linked together. Uh, were those freckles on my ultra-pale arm? But I didn't have freckles. Or pale days.

More confused than ever, I slipped the ring back on my finger because where else was I supposed to put it? The thing must cost a fortune, and there was no way I could pay for its loss.

Perspiration dotted my palms. I stood and teetered on the stilts. Where was the bathroom? I needed a mirror. Now. Spotting a door, I rushed forward. And toppled to my face. Argh!

Undeterred, I ripped off the shoes, lumbered to my feet, hiked up my skirt, and started again. The knob turned, and I soared inside an enormous closet filled with racks of designer clothing and shelves lined with extravagant heels and leather purses. Things I'd only ever seen in magazines and movies.

Not a bathroom, but it didn't matter. A full-length, gilt-framed mirror waited in the corner. I surged deeper inside. The second I caught sight of my reflection, my choppy scream filled the air. I slapped a hand over my mouth. No! This had to be a trick. Or a joke. Yes, yes, a horrifying joke.

"This isn't funny," I cried to anyone who might be filming for social media.

My reflection spoke with me, and a lump grew in my throat. I reached out, quivering, and poked the glass. Solid. Beginning to wheeze, I hunched over to catch my breath. My likeness moved, too, not missing a beat.

Okay, so this wasn't a trick or a joke. But what was it? What? I should have brown hair, brown eyes, and skin several shades duskier. I should have hips! Yet, I looked exactly like Isobel. Same red waves. Same green eyes, freckled skin and slender build. But this wasn't… I couldn't…

Tremors overtook me, and I backed away, pivoted. I would hunt down Isobel and get answers however proved necessary. She would admit she'd hypnotized me. Or drugged me. Yes! Drugged. I remembered now; she'd already admitted it! Had probably slipped something into my cranberry juice before handing me the glass. This could be a prolonged hallucination. A residual effect .

What, had Skyscraper Red roofied me all to stuff me in the wedding gown and marry me off to the highest bidder?

How dare she! As soon as I found her, she would learn a hard truth: You did not mess with Oklahoma girls. We did not stop until we got a job done.

"Isobel," a deep masculine voice snapped. "Come here."

I went still. The man had called for Isobel. Was she nearby?

Clutching fistfuls of skirt, I dashed from the closet. The bedroom's new occupant caught my gaze, and I skidded to a halt. Oh my hotness .

Details registered, each hitting me with the precision of a punch. He occupied and totally owned a space just past the doorway. Around thirty years old, he stood well over six feet tall. He wore a tailored, pinstriped suit that failed to mask his muscular physique. Far more beautiful than zipper guy, with sleek black hair, icy blue eyes, and an amazing complexion without a single laugh line. Trim dark scruff covered a strong jaw.

"I told you to be ready by three sharp." His crisp words slashed the atmosphere between us. He looked me up and down, his lids narrowing. "This is not ready."

Did he and Isobel work together to abduct innocent tourists?

"Who are you?" I demanded with all the vim and vigor I could muster. You've got to be kidding me . I even sounded like the redhead. Not her lyrical pronunciation, just her voice. "Where's Isobel?"

There was no alteration in the man's expression as he checked the diamond-studded watch strapped to his wrist. A bejeweled signet ring glinted from a blunt-tipped finger. "There's no time for your games. Change clothes. And stop using that atrocious American accent. It's worse than the others. This reception would've taken place last night if you hadn't drunk yourself into a stupor."

" My games? Mine ?" What did he mean, atrocious? Lots of people found my slight southern drawl pleasing, thank you. And what other accents? "I mean it. Who are you? Where am I? Where's my necklace? What are you planning to do with me?" And where was the dog?

"Isobel," he grated with a glare. "Enough. I married you. Now you will do your duty as my wife, exactly as agreed. Understood? Change clothes."

A shudder rocked me. He'd called me Isobel. Which meant he, too, saw the redhead when he looked at me. What if Isobel had drugged us both?

My fury downgraded to concern. "You've got to listen to me, sir. My name is Elizabeth. I'm not Isobel, and I didn't marry you." I would never! He was hot and all, but way too bossy for my tastes. Although, yes, if he were fictional, I might marathon read his series. Because of course he would have a saga spanning decades. "As wild as this sounds, I think we're both hallucinating. We require medical care. And an arrest warrant for Isobel Campbell."

He flicked the tip of his tongue over an incisor. "Do you want to be executed? Because that's where such talk is headed."

Fear iced my veins, and I gasped. "You just threatened to kill me."

"Donna be ridiculous. You know I never bother with threats. I'll give you two minutes to don proper attire. If you fail to act, I'll force you to go just as you are."

Forget my accent. He had just developed one, and all kinds of menace layered the undertone. Somehow, it was far worse than the (definite) threat. "That was a threat."

"That was a promise."

Self-preservation instincts sparked. I might not have my mother's fiery temper or my father's unrufflable calm, but I had something invaluable. Stamina. I'd started running in high school and never stopped. I could go for miles. And I definitely needed to run. My companion wasn't interested in the truth.

"I hear you loud and clear, big guy. Dress better. Got it logged now." I tapped my temple. "Why don't you step in the hall, and I'll get started?" I'd sneak out a window.

He didn't budge. Rather, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down.

Okay then. We'd do this in plain sight. I chanced a glance over his broad shoulders. No one loomed in the open doorframe. Excellent. I pasted on my brightest smile, then faked left and darted right, tearing past him. I left Tall, Dark and Commanding in my dust.

My heart thundered in my ears as I sprinted across the hall toward a winding staircase. Down I went, noticing blue this and blue that. But who cared? Where was the exit? Two maids in uniform dusted at the bottom. They offered me a half-hearted bend of the knee. Weird.

"How do I get out of here?" I rushed out.

Silent gaping met my question. They peered up and performed true curtseys.

I tracked their gazes. Gah! Tall, Dark and Commanding had followed me. He towered at the top of the staircase. "There's got to be a front door. Back door?"

Features schooled in a blank mask, he descended at a leisurely pace. I wasn't sure how, but his ease proved more terrifying than anyone else's rage.

"Where?" I demanded of the women.

When he nodded permission, the shorter of the two pointed to the left with a shaky finger.

I didn't stick around to thank her. Or him. Just dashed through an immense sitting area beyond a gaggle of other maids. There! The door. But gah! Isobel's bodyguards, Buzz and Ponytail, flanked it.

Good guys or bad guys? I'd soon find out. "Help me," I commanded. "The man in the suit threatened to kill me."

The pair cast confused looks in said man's direction, all what should we do, boss? Yeah, they worked for TDC, not Isobel. Though my stomach twisted, I didn't change course. To gain my freedom, I must overcome any obstacle. Even behemoths.

They didn't attempt to stop me as I gripped the knob. The gold handle turned easily. Hinges glided without impediment as the thick wooden slab with a stained glass cut out opened. Still, the bodyguards did nothing as I fled.

Afternoon sunlight and a warmish breeze scented with heather enveloped me. Where to go, where to go? I hastened forward, scanning... To the left and right, trees. Up ahead, a circle drive with an elaborate marble water fountain as its centerpiece. A sleek black sedan waited nearby, the engine already purring. Another vehicle parked behind it.

A uniformed driver hopped out of the first and rushed to whisk open the back door. He nodded at me. "Good morning, Mrs. Bruce."

Mrs. Bruce? At least he didn't think I was Isobel Campbell.

I hurried over, a plan forming. Jump behind the wheel, peel out, and drive until I found someone willing to aid me. Without GPS to show the way, odds were good I'd get lost.

Almost there…

Strong arms caught me from behind, lifted me off my feet, spun me around, and slung me over a broad shoulder .

"Your two minutes are up," he stated matter-of-factly.

Nooo! I fought with everything I had. My captor motored on without a care, his gait smooth and unhurried.

" Uisge ciùin , Mr. Bruce," the driver called happily, as if he witnessed scenes like this five times a day.

Uisge ciùin ? Aka calm waters, the motto I'd read on the plaid?

Wait. I wheezed my next breath. The driver had referred to TDC as Mr. Bruce and me as Mrs. Bruce. Were we actually married, as my captor claimed?

" Uisge ciùin , Angus." Mr. Bruce adjusted his hold on me, then unceremoniously tossed me inside the vehicle and climbed in at my side.

The locks engaged with an ominous thunk . I tried to scramble out, anyway, but the handles held.

After settling behind the wheel, the driver—Angus—eased us from the driveway. I twisted to look out the back window, on the hunt for anyone who might offer aid. Or maybe I'd even spot Isobel herself, observing all she'd wrought. My eyes widened. We departed from a magnificent three-story castle with an awe-inspiring, manicured yard. A massive stone wall barricaded the property from the rest of the world, with armed guards patrolling the top.

Speaking of guards, Buzz and Ponytail sealed themselves inside the second car. Intending to trail us?

Well and truly trapped. My blood flashed cold, the scanty dress offering little warmth. I faced TDC and snarled, "I demand to know where you're taking me." Some kind of reception, he'd said?

Angus glanced at me via the rearview mirror but remained silent.

"As I explained last night," Mr. Bruce stated flatly, "you are to be presented to my clan—" he worked his jaw— " our clan and solidify your new position as—" Another jaw jostle. "My wife."

"I am not your wife," I retorted, pressing against the door to put as much distance between us as possible. "Proof: you threatened to kill me."

"Nay, I reminded you of the consequences of your actions."

And the difference? "I don't understand any of this. I'm Eliz?—"

"Do not say you are someone else again. I mean it, Isobel. You are close to pushin' me too far. We may no' want to be, but we are husband and wife." He peered out the window opposite mine. "The vows were spoken, and canna be undone."