Chapter Two

VERONICA STOOD AT the rail to watch the gulls dip and dive as they followed the wake of the ferry as it made its way from Mallaig to Armadale. The wind was chill and the sun bright as they approached Skye. Eyes gritty from her overnight flight, she stretched and fought a yawn. Even with a first-class seat she had been unable to sleep on the plane. She had spent the trip by private car to Mallaig staring out of the window, fascinated by her first views of Scotland.

Veronica tucked her hand in her jacket pocket and fingered the smooth stone she had picked up from her parents’ driveway before she left. Her father had kept it together until he dropped her off on the sidewalk outside the Richmond airport. She could still smell the lingering scent of his aftershave from his bone-crushing hug goodbye. After patting his back and assuring him she would call when she arrived, she had wiped away the bit of wetness on her cheek where his tears had fallen, shouldered her bag, and watched him drive off.

She yawned, unable to shake her weariness. As the ferry slowed to dock, a thrum of excitement buzzed around the base of her brain. I can be Veronica again, not “poor Ronnie who got busted and sent to jail”, or “Ron the math freak.” A fresh start. Without my bitch aunt looking down her nose, and giving my folks hell about me.

She scrubbed her hand over her head, still getting used to the feel of her low cut. A last-minute decision, a radical departure from her usual style, the flirty glances she’d received from several women on the flight had let her know it was a good look for her. Veronica scanned the crowd as the ferry docked.

A few men in driver’s livery held up signs with individual names, and one or two with names of what must be hotels on the island. She frowned when she didn’t see her name. The crowd thinned out and she stood alone on the dock. The stone in her pocket was smooth under her fingers as she fidgeted with it. Fuck. Maybe they forgot me? Maybe I screwed up the directions?

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She shrugged out of her heavy backpack and dug into the front pocket for the letter with her instructions on it. She focused on her breathing as she worked to stem her rising anger and panic. Her hands trembled as she took her phone from her pocket ready to call the number she had been given if she had any problems during her trip.

“Miss Fletcher? Veronica Fletcher?” A deep voice sounded behind her and she bobbled her phone, managing to catch it before it hit the asphalt.

“Yes?” The owner of the voice was tall. A driving cap set at a jaunty angle shaded her face. Her dark blue uniform was crisp. Police? Fuck, I haven’t done fuck all and the police are here? A cop with a driving cap? What the hell? “I’m Veronica.” She hated the tremble in her voice.

“Sorry to startle you. I apologize for being late. I had a bit of trouble on the way.” The woman’s eyes were a light brown with gold flecks. Her gaze was intense, framed by her auburn brows.

“You’re from Rowan House?” Veronica’s panic subsided. It’s a chauffeur’s uniform. She’s not a cop. I’m safe.

“Aye.” The driver pulled off her cap. “Millie Reid.” Her buzz-cut hair, a soft auburn red shot through with gray, shone in the sunlight. Her broad ruddy face pulled into a wide smile. Millie extended her freckled hand and Veronica shook it. Her grip was as strong and as solid as Millie appeared. “You’re our new stable manager.” She swept her gaze over Veronica’s body before she looked back into her eyes. She tilted her head to the side. “You’re even more attractive than your photos. I like the low cut, although your locs were fetching.”

Veronica flushed, the heat rising to the tips of her ears, and she pulled her hand from Millie’s grip. “It was time for a change. I’m pretty sure the horses won’t care what I look like.”

Millie laughed. “True about the horses. But everyone at the house is appreciative of gorgeous scenery.” She picked up Veronica’s large backpack and shouldered it.

Gorgeous? After a red-eye with no sleep? I hope she can see well enough to drive. Veronica’s face burned. She reached out to reclaim her backpack. “Um. Thank you. I can carry my bag.”

Millie waved Veronica off. “I make it a point to handle all luggage for new arrivals. Do you have any other bags?” She glanced around and raised her eyebrows. “This is it?”

“Yes.” Veronica pressed her lips together. Say something. Make it clear. “I don’t think it matters what I look like. I’m here to work as the stable manager, not a whore.”

Millie settled her cap back on her head, the light gone out of her eyes, and her jaw clenched.

Oh fuck. Why did I say that? Veronica averted her eyes, unwilling to meet Millie’s thunderous gaze. I’m an idiot. She processed my papers. She knows.

Millie blew out a breath before she spoke. “I understand what you were hired for. Wasn’t trying to offend you.” She turned her back to Veronica. “This way.”

She walked away from Veronica, never looking back to see if she followed. Veronica stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and gazed up at the sky. Great. I pissed her off. Fuck. Great way to start my new job. I need to chill. Apologize? She raised her shoulders and let them fall before she hurried to catch up to Millie’s long strides. Even through the haze of her exhaustion she admired Millie’s easy walk. Her hips were narrow, her gait athletic, the movements of someone confident in their power and ability.

Millie walked across the car park toward a black town car. Veronica quickened her pace. She had already stowed Veronica’s backpack in the trunk by the time Veronica arrived at the car. Millie opened the back door of the car and stood to the side, her face a cool mask.

Damn. They sent a limo for me. We must be picking up other guests. “I could ride up front, you know, if there are others to pick up.”

Millie’s face maintained her neutral expression, her voice even. “No. We’re not picking up anyone else. Ride in the back. I’m sure you’re tired after your trip.” She pointed to the door pocket and a bottle of water. “There’s water for you. Coffee and snacks in the basket. Do you need to use the facilities before we leave? It’s a long ride to the house, and once we leave Armadale there’re not many places to stop along the way.”

Veronica avoided making eye contact with Millie. “No. I’ll be okay.” She slid onto the polished black leather seats. Millie closed the door. Veronica braced herself, expecting a harsh door slam after her thoughtless comment. Millie shut it gently with a barely audible click. I’m an ass. A total ass. Millie entered the car, started the engine, and raised the partition between the front seat and the cavernous rear of the limousine.

Veronica scooted her hips back into the wide leather seat. A wicker picnic basket sat on the floor of the car. She picked it up and settled it on the seat beside her. Her mouth watered as the tangy scent of citrus filled the air when she opened the lid of the basket. Two muffins and a thermos were nestled together with a white mug in the basket. She opened the thermos and the aroma of coffee made her giddy. She filled the white cup as high as she dared in the moving car. She took a sip. They know I take my coffee black? Damn. Steadying the coffee cup on her thigh, she picked up one of the muffins and took a bite. The sharp sweet taste of citrus and chocolate exploded across her palate and she moaned softly around the delicate morsel. Veronica finished the muffin in three bites and started on the second.

Thoughtful. And delicious. And what the hell is wrong with me I said that? The coffee was the perfect balance to the sweet orange and chocolate notes of the muffin. She pulled her pen and journal from her inside jacket pocket and made a few notes about her trip, the ferry ride, and her arrival. She wrote down Millie’s name and underlined it. Old school butch. Crew cut. The only thing missing was a ring of keys. Built. Those shoulders. Her face flushed again when she remembered how Millie had looked at her. Her bright cocky smile and the sincere tone of her voice when she complimented her came back to her full force. Veronica shifted in the seat, pressing her thighs together as a tendril of desire curled in her belly. Work. I’m here to work. Nothing else. Not that she’d want me. Probably likes dainty femmes, not ex-cons with no hair.

Sleepy now she had eaten, she replaced the cup into the basket with the coffee thermos before she set the basket back on the floor of the car. She stretched out on the seat and used her jacket for a pillow. The rocking of the car soothed her, and she flipped to a new page in her journal.

 

VERONICA JOLTED AWAKE when the car stopped. Her pen was still clutched in her hand; her notebook had fallen on the floor of the car. Damn, I fell asleep. Did I drool on the seat? She picked up her notebook and pen and tucked them back into her jacket. She rubbed her hands over her face. She rummaged through her pockets and found her last piece of cinnamon gum, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth to get rid of the sour sleep taste in her mouth.

The door opened and Millie was framed by the soft afternoon light behind her. “I’ll take your bag to your room. Do you need anything from it?”

Veronica stifled a yawn. “No. I’ve got everything.” She shrugged into her jacket and patted her pockets to make sure she hadn’t lost anything while she slept. “All good.” She sat there her brain in a fog from the overnight flight and her nap.

Millie tilted her head at Veronica, a half smile on her face. “You going to stay in the car, love? Or do you want to meet the stunning women you’ll be answering to?”

Veronica shoved off the seat and left the car. “Sorry. I’m not awake.”

Millie reached up and touched her face. She swiped her thumb over Veronica’s cheek. “You’ve an ink mark here. My gran would have spit on her finger first, but I think I’ve got it.”

Her touch was firm but gentle, and Veronica laughed. “My grandma too.” Millie’s hand lingered a moment before she lowered it. Veronica stared into her eyes, wondering at the flash of heat she saw there before Millie turned away from her.

“Hey. I’m sorry. About earlier. I’m still getting used to—” Outside? Life beyond prison? The idea of working at a whorehouse? What the fuck to say? “I’m an idiot, please forgive me?” “Um, everything.”

Millie raised her head and met Veronica’s gaze. “Okay. But you might want to use the term sex worker next time. Some of the women here are sensitive about people calling them whores.” She lowered her brows and her voice. “And Mistress Lucia will most certainly not react well.”

“Got it.” Veronica held Millie’s gaze. “Thank you.”

Millie tilted her head to the side. “For what?”

“The advice. Treating me like I’m somebody. The coffee and the muffins. I didn’t know what to expect, but I never imagined a limo and a driver being sent to pick me up. The orange-chocolate muffins were incredible.”

“You can thank Robin for the muffins.” Millie quirked her mouth, her eyes fixed on Veronica’s face. “Someday, love, you’re going to have to tell me why you think you don’t deserve to be treated well, but right now you need to go see the Mistresses.”