Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
For me.
He might say it was for Cammie … but it was for me.
“Thank you for coming,” I murmured. My eyes returned to him, and I realized it was against my will. I couldn’t not look at him.
The handsome bastard that he was.
His silver-gray eyes gleamed in the low light. “You’re welcome.”
It wasn’t the response I’d expected. I’d anticipated something sarcastic and disapproving.
If he was still frustrated at my inability to confide my troubles, he didn’t show it.
Instead, he held my stare as if he too found he couldn’t look away.
I could feel my breathing grow shallow with awareness. Afraid of the intensity of my attraction, I sought to break the silence. “You know, I once camped in the Amazon Rainforest for a week when I was twenty-one … and yet, I think I was more scared to be alone in this little bothy tonight.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the camping sort.”
I grimaced. “Then you’d be wrong. But I’d be lying if I told you I did that tour alone. I had the best guides money could buy. My parents insisted.”
“I’d have insisted too.” Again his response surprised me.
Wondering if this time, forced to be with each other, he might actually open up a little, I tried once more to get to know Ramsay McRae. “Would your parents have insisted?”
He searched my gaze thoroughly. I didn’t know what he was looking for … but to my surprise, he replied, “Probably. I think. They died when I was eight so …” He shrugged. “I’m an orphan.”
The word clanged through me.
It conjured images of sad-faced little children, not tall, broad-shouldered capable Scots whose hands were almost twice as big as my own.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, shocked.
Ramsay shrugged. “It’s my reality. I don’t think my life has been worse or better than most because of it.”
“So … were you adopted?”
“No. It’s difficult at that age. I spent the rest of my childhood in the foster system and stayed with foster parents across the north. Inverness, Aberdeen …”
He was talking.
Ramsay was talking.
A surge of triumph moved through me even as his truth caused dismay. I hated that reality for him. As heartbroken as I was without my parents, I wouldn’t trade those years together just so I didn’t feel the pain of their loss. Ramsay had such little time with his. How lucky was I to have had the time I did?
“And you ended up in the Royal Marines?”
“I joined at sixteen.” He reached for one of the protein bars and ripped it open.
I tried not to stare at his mouth as he chewed. “Did they become like a family? Your unit?”
“For a while. Do you pity me?”
There was something sharp in his tone I didn’t like. “Never. If I pitied you for losing your parents, then I’d have to pity myself and I don’t. Plus, you’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever met. I could never pity you.”
Tension eased in his shoulders. “You’re pretty capable yourself for a rich girl.”
I heard his teasing, so I didn’t take offense. Instead, I chuckled and took the bottle of water he held out to me. “My parents made sure of it. Yes, I grew up privileged. We had luxury vacations and I’ve seen more of the world than most people ever will. I’ve never wanted for anything. I don’t know what it’s like to be hungry or to be afraid I don’t have the money to feed myself, to pay my bills. And I’m grateful for that. But, like I told you before, my parents wanted to make sure that’s as far as my privilege went.”
“What does that mean?”
Trying to think of the perfect example, I took a sip of water, searching my memory. I swallowed and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Okay, for instance, I’m fourteen years old and my classmate Carissa Yiu just had a slumber party that made Blair Waldorf’s look like child’s play.”
“Who’s Blair Waldorf?”
My lips twitched. “A fictional New York socialite known for her lavish slumber parties.”
“Ah.”
“You were probably somewhere on a covert operation when she made her splash into popular media,” I joked.
Ramsay nodded as if that were probably true.
Hmm.
I wondered just what he did while he was in the Royal Marines. “Anyway, I begged my parents for a slumber party that would knock Carissa Yiu’s slumber party out of the park. They adamantly refused. And when I threw a hissy fit, my mom made me volunteer with her at a homeless shelter. That shut me right up.” I smiled fondly at the memory.
Ramsay swallowed a bite of his protein bar and murmured, “I think I’d get on well with your mum.”
“Oh, she was a Scot through and through. She grew up with money, but my grandfather hadn’t, so she was raised to appreciate everything she had. And she wanted me to be the same. My mom and dad kept me in check. I don’t take any of the experiences they provided for granted.”