Creating Merry Hell Read Free Page A

the umpteenth time that evening what the hell he’d let himself in for. Cursing under his breath, he turned his attention to his reflection, peered hard and smeared creamy black liner around his eyes. Using his index finger, he smudged it the way Grace had told him to. He looked at the picture again and added more. Next he unscrewed the mascara cap, dropped the stupid stick thing twice, and then on the third attempt poked himself in the eye. “Fuck!”
    Eyes watering and blinking furiously, he wondered for the tenth time in two minutes why the fuck women would torture themselves like this. Jack tipped the contents of the bag Grace had handed him earlier onto the counter and rummaged through a selection of earrings, glass beads and silk scarves. He cursed Grace yet again for insisting on a second party for the evening, a costume party at that. Wasn’t it enough they’d had baby Emily’s naming ceremony earlier this afternoon? But then nothing was ever simple where Grace was concerned, she was more like her mother than she realized. Not that he was in any hurry to tell her that—he liked his balls just fine thank you very much.
    The thing was, he wasn’t even mad at Grace—he was mad at Merry. Apart from her stint as Grace’s bridesmaid last year she hadn’t set foot on the island in years, too busy in Edinburgh building her lingerie empire. And he liked it that way. It meant he didn’t have to deal with her. Think about her. See her. That was when he realized that the person he was actually mad at was himself.
    He’d never forgotten her. Could barely remember a time he didn’t want her.
    They had been in their final year at school—going to the same parties, hanging out, flirting—when the gossiping tongues had begun to wag. Turned out he wasn’t the only Campbell to have a thing for a Lewis woman. Jack remembered the shame of their parents’ affair. Scandal travelled like the wind in small communities and nothing beat it for putting the skids on a blossoming romance. He and Merry had avoided each other after that. Prom had been the last time he’d seen her. At one time he had hoped she would go with him, but instead he had to settle for moodily watching her dance and laugh with every guy in the room other than him. With a stolen bottle of his father’s best whiskey he had gotten his underage self royally roasted and woke the following morning facedown in the cow shed. Merry had left for Edinburgh soon afterward and he hadn’t seen her again until Grace and Finn had married last year.
    He’d found her sitting alone on a bench at the bottom of the garden, looking out over the loch at the sunset. Hair had been swept up and secured with a blood-red rose, shoulders bared she’d looked so damn beautiful it took his breath away. Unaware he was watching her from the patio she’d raised fingertips to swipe at her face. She’d been crying. With no idea what he would say to her but with an overwhelming urge to comfort her, to hold her, he’d set off through the garden only to come to an abrupt stop when a tux clad figure reached her first. Instinctively he’d stepped out of sight.
    “Meredith, whatever’s wrong?”
    Startled, she’d turned in the direction of the voice. “Oh, don’t mind me. Weddings always make me cry. I thought I’d hide out here until it passed, but you caught me.” She’d laughed then, trying to brush off her tears, obviously embarrassed at being found in a moment of weakness.
    “People are asking for you. Are you going to come back inside?”
    Jesus, hadn’t the idiot seen she was upset. Merry wasn’t the crying type. Didn’t city boy know her at all?
    “You go ahead and I’ll join you in a minute. Let me get myself together.”
    “All right.” The man had bent and kissed her on the lips. “Don’t be long. I miss you.” Then he’d gone the way he’d come.
    Jack had stayed where he was in the shadows, watching as she took a deep shuddering breath and squared her