The Prince I Love to Hate: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Heir Affair Book 1) by Iris Morland (learn to read books TXT) 📗

her, but a young woman with red hair came around the corner, nearly hitting me in the chest with a cookie sheet with freshly baked buns.

“Oh, fuck!” The girl nearly lost her hold of the sheet in her hand. I grabbed the end closest to me, and luckily only one bun slid off of it onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry.” I reached down to pick up the bun. I brushed it off. “Five-second rule?”

The girl’s face turned as red as her hair. “Oh, you’re the American! Mr. Gallagher’s granddaughter! I’m so sorry for cursing, miss—”

Good lord, I’d fallen into some kind of Downton Abbey RPG, hadn’t I? If she called me “milady,” I’d throw myself off of the nearest high cliff.

“Don’t apologize. I was the one who nearly made you drop all of these buns.” I peered more closely at the one in my hand. “What are these?”

“Bannock buns with currants, miss.”

The one I was holding was still warm. Definitely better than just a banana. “Oh, excellent.” I was about to take a bite, but the girl let out a squawk.

“Don’t eat that! It fell on the floor.” She set the sheet pan down, shaking her head, and went to get a plate. She plucked the contaminated bun from my hand and tossed it into the trash before giving me a fresh one on a plate. “Do you want butter with it, miss? And perhaps some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please. And please: call me Niamh. What’s your name?”

The girl dimpled as she hurried to get me my order. “I’m Cara.” She soon handed me a cup of steaming coffee and placed some pats of butter and a knife on my plate. “Lovely to meet you.”

Cara had light freckles all over her nose, and a rosebud mouth with reddish eyebrows. She looked like she’d stepped out of a storybook, her skin creamy and fair.

“Is there anything I can get you?” she said.

“No, thank you.” I collected my plate and coffee. “I’m glad somebody around here is nice,” I said offhandedly.

“Oh?”

“I ran into Mrs. Walsh.” I made sure to pitch my voice into a low whisper. “She’s terrifying.”

Cara’s lips twitched. “Is she?”

“Um, yes? I think she would’ve loved to have put a curse on me, if she were into that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty certain she’s a devoted Catholic.” Cara’s tone sounded strangled.

“She’s got witchy vibes. I’m telling you. Probably rides here on a broomstick.”

“I think she prefers to take the tram. Much more comfortable, especially when it rains.”

I shrugged. “That’s just what she tells people, I’m sure.”

Cara giggled then covered her mouth. “I need to return to my work. It was nice meeting you, miss—I mean, Niamh.”

She hurried off. I’d probably gone too far with the joke about Mrs. Walsh being a witch. Maybe I’d offended Cara. Great job, Niamh. Let’s not alienate the one nice person you’ve met here.

Thinking about not-nice people, I thought of the golden-haired man I’d met yesterday. That had been a strange encounter, to say the least. I just hoped I wouldn’t keep running into him. I didn’t have time for obnoxious men who thought way too highly of themselves.

You don’t have time for men in general. Fair enough. My dating life was hardly interesting lately. What with attending Harvard and working my ass off to keep my grades up, graduating, and then moving back to Seattle, I’d been busy the past few years. I’d dated a few different guys while in college, the longest relationship lasting a year. Noah had been my first—first love, first time having sex. We’d met in a chemistry class and had been paired up as lab partners.

Noah had been sweet—too sweet. He’d been too easy to run roughshod over. It wasn’t that I wanted to boss people around, but I had what my best friend Rachel said was a commanding presence. “Guys think you’re intimidating,” she’d said when I’d been frustrated with how wishy washy Noah had acted. “He probably doesn’t know what to do with you.”

She’d been right. I’d eventually broken things off with Noah because he’d gotten, well, boring. When I’d wanted to have long conversations into the night, he’d wanted to play video games for hours instead. When I’d known I’d always wanted to major in political science, he’d switched majors every semester. And when he’d teared up when I broke up with him, I felt like I’d literally kicked a puppy.

I’d had two other shorter relationships that had amounted mostly to a friends-with-benefits type of situation. But none of them had held my attention. The sex had been decent and was nice to scratch that itch. Yet after a few sex sessions, I’d feel kind of…empty. Not that I’d regretted sleeping with them, just that I wanted more than something surface-level.

So, I hadn’t dated much in the past year. I was only twenty-two, of course, but sometimes I felt like I’d never find a guy who was worth my time. And I struggled not to dumb myself down, to make myself less intimidating, whatever that actually meant.

The rest of the day, I wandered the estate. I got lost more than once, and I had to ask staff to point me in the right direction. Multiple times I’d tried to open doors that were locked, so I contented myself with looking at all of the artwork and sculptures throughout the house.

I didn’t run into Golden Man again. By the end of the day, I almost wished I had. I’d only had interactions with people who treated me like their mistress, and it had made me feel weird.

I finally just returned to my room and read until it was late enough to go to bed, all the while telling myself I hadn’t made a mistake in coming here.

Chapter Three

I shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but despite the silky sheets and a mattress that could’ve easily fit four adults, I couldn’t fall asleep. Sighing, I sat up in bed and rubbed my temples.

“Stupid jet