Kept at the Argentine's Command

He didn’t give her a chance to object. He was walking away. He clearly expected her to follow him.

Lulu stared after him.

He was the rudest man.

She found herself struggling one-handed with her stick-and-stop trolley, her hand luggage banging painfully against her leg.

She most certainly was not travelling with him in a car for three or four hours.

She would find a taxi.

She would entrust her person and her luggage to a man she had paid to do the task—not one who thought he was doing her a big favour.

Money was a woman’s greatest ally and protection. She knew it to be so. Without money her mother had been unable to escape her violent father.

Even now, with her mother blissfully married to another man, Lulu pushed her to keep her own bank account and manage her own money. Money gave you options. Lulu lifted her chin. Right now her own personal bank account gave her the ability to pay her way to Dunlosie Castle.

But when she emerged from the building it was into an overcast Edinburgh day. There was a light rain falling and Lulu stopped to retrieve her umbrella, opening it against the elements and peering about. She spotted the cab rank but there was a queue.

All right, sometimes those options a woman had weren’t optimal, but there was no help for it.

She pushed resolutely in that direction, aware that her pretty harlequin seamed stockings were receiving tiny splashes of dirty water with each step from the washback beneath the wheels of her trolley. The fact that she felt depleted from withstanding her own anxieties in the air for the last couple of hours wasn’t helping. Lulu wanted nothing more than to be warm and comfortable inside a car, with her shoes off, watching this bad weather through a windscreen.

Maybe she’d been a little hasty…

Which was when she saw the lovingly restored red vintage Jaguar.

The passenger side window came rolling down.

‘Get in,’ he instructed.

CHAPTER THREE

LULU KNEW SHE had a decision to make.

She lifted her umbrella to take another look at the queue. Then she looked at her ‘ride’.

Hot and sexy and far too full of himself—and he had looked at her as if she was a bug.

Her pride pushed to the fore. She was not climbing into a car with a man who didn’t even have the decency to open the door for her. And what about her luggage?

Lulu was tempted in that moment to phone her parents, who would be arriving at the castle tonight. But how would that look? And she couldn’t lean on Gigi this weekend of all weekends.

She gasped as another splash of muddy water, this time from passing pedestrians, hit her shoes and saw the mud now attached to her sadly limp blue ribbons. Her pride wavered.

Dieu, she knew she’d regret this.

She grabbed her trolley and pushed it towards the back end of the car.

It was really completely unfair, but frankly she’d be a fool if she passed this up.

She stood there. In the rain. Waiting.

He took his time.

Lulu narrowed her eyes on his languid stroll around to the boot, all shoulders and confident attitude, looking infinitely rugged and male and capable.

But she knew differently. Knew how a sturdy exterior could mask all kinds of weaknesses and flaws.