A Laird to Hold by Angeline Fortin (best feel good books .txt) 📗

conversation, she wouldn’t take the confrontation lying down. Laird, too, stood and glared at Olivia.

Her mother hardly noticed, pacing the room with visible agitation. “You cannot be acting like this. There are cameras everywhere. Spies everywhere. Any one of the hospital staff could pass information or pictures to the press. Put on some makeup, for Christ’s sake. You are better than this. What is everyone to think?”

“That maybe under all the outward polish I’m something better than just Scarlett Thomas?” She cocked her head. “Just as you like to think you’re more Olivia Harrington rather than just Thelma Lou Ellis?”

Tyrone shot Scarlett an approving nod. She doubted he’d ever seen her deliver such a killer blow. Much less stand up to her mother.

The pacing came to an abrupt stop. “Watch your mouth, young lady.”

Nevertheless, the reminder had Olivia straightening, smoothing her hands over the sloped sides of her cherry red, I’d-like-to-speak-to-a-manger asymmetrical bob and down the front of her bronze suit jacket as she sucked in her gut. Just like that, Scarlett’s temperamental mother disappeared and the publicist/manager was back.

“An excellent reminder to both of us. We have an image to maintain,” Olivia continued in measured tones though her artificially green eyes spewed venom. “Though these last few months may have damaged yours irrevocably. People are talking, Scarlett.”

“And I don’t care what they’re saying, Mother,” Scarlett reiterated. “Not that I ever really did, but I care even less now.”

Olivia resumed her pacing as if Scarlett hadn’t spoken. “Tell me, is it drugs? We’ll find a good place. Somewhere discreet. I cannot understand how you slipped this by me, Scarlett.”

“It’s not drugs, Mother.”

“It certainly must be. We’ll have to come up with a story and something feasible. Tyrone?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“Better do it quick. We’ve got that makeup campaign coming up and the magazine cover shoot. We can’t afford to lose them. Though when they get a look at you…” She winced. “They’ll have to Photoshop the hell out of her, if they keep her at all.”

With a groan, Scarlett rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She hadn’t slept well enough the previous night in the crowded hospital room to fight this fight with the nuance required. Spilling the entire truth of the matter was sounding pretty good right then but with the way her luck was going, her mother and Tyrone would try to see her put into a mental ward. That would help nothing and no one. “Gentlemen, could I have a moment alone with my mother, please?”

“Are ye certain, lass?” Concern and protectiveness was clear in Laird’s heavy brogue.

“I’ll be fine.”

Pride and encouragement shone in Laird’s pewter eyes. He nodded and held the door for Tyrone, who protested in perfect chorus with Olivia before Laird took him by the arm and escorted him out.

Laird

“I’ve got to say, you’re not at all the sort I thought Scar would ever hook up with,” Tyrone said, rubbing his arm after Laird released him.

Laird didn’t exactly understand all of the man’s words but got enough of them to discern an insult of sorts embedded within. Crossing his arms across his chest, Laird scowled down at the agent in a manner that normally sent lesser men atremble.

Built like a bull the man might be, but Tyrone was still a fraction of Laird’s size. Despite the difference, he merely frowned in return. The whole of his bald head creased in the process. He looked Laird up and down as if he were more a curiosity than a threat.

“Strong silent type, huh? I guess I can understand why she likes you.”

“Ye best leave Scarlett be. She has all she needs to fulfill her,” he responded in a quiet brogue, using some of the phraseology Scarlett had used upon him in years past. “And worries aplenty wi’oot ye heaping more upon her.”

“You expect us to just walk away from our biggest moneymaker?”

“Aye, I do. Wi’ haste,” Laird’s accent held a hint of warning. This man with his carefully trimmed goatee and smarmy smile had once been both ally and adversary of his wife. A protector. Which side he was on now was difficult to ascertain, but Laird needed to make sure the battle lines were clear. “I warn ye, I may allow Scarlett to fight her own battles wi’ her mother, but I willnae let anyone hurt her in any way. If ye bring pain of any sort upon her, my wrath will be returned upon ye tenfold. Ye hae my promise.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious? I would gi’ my life to protect her.”

“Give your life?” Tyrone shook his dark head as if Laird’s phrasing were as foreign to him as many modern idioms were to Laird. “Who says things like that anymore?”

“Is protecting those ye love such an old-fashioned concept?” he asked. “Scarlett is mine and what is mine, I safeguard.”

To Laird’s surprise, the man smiled and relaxed. “As much as a feminist Scarlett is, I never thought I’d see the day when she let a man call her his like that. Does she know you do that? Claim her like that?”

“She is my wife.”

“Damn.” Tyrone crossed his own arms and smiled, this time with genuine humor and a touch of approval. “You’re actually in love with her, aren’t you? Not just with Scarlett Thomas superstar, but with her.”

This man didn’t deserve any affirmation of the personal feelings shared between him and Scarlett. Laird continued to stare at him. To his surprise, the man smiled more broadly.

“Good for you then. For her. I’ll lose a mint if she doesn’t come back into the fold, you know.”

That reference Laird understood. “She willnae. I can promise ye.”

“Yes, I can see that now. Perhaps even understand it to a degree.” For