Flying to Scotland by myself was more stressful than I imagined. Christian had taken me all over the world, but never to Scotland, and he never allowed me to fly on my own. He considered taking flights with me as part of the service of being my guardian, but since I had been assertive enough to go off on my own once, he was letting me go off on my own again.

As the plane took off, I started to worry I might get bored at his house by myself. He did say he wouldn’t be around much, but I could count on having the seven days he usually spent with me during summer vacation. Even if he wasn’t around, Christian undoubtedly decorated his house with things that would tell me more about him than his mouth ever had.

Aside from that, I thought of all the things I never got the chance to do at school. I could go to the market and prepare my own food. Granted, I had never taken a cooking class in my life. My school offered culinary courses, but no one with an ounce of academic potential attended. “Planning to be a housewife, are we?” I could hear Trinity's goading voice in my head. All that was behind me. Once I was on my own, I could do whatever I wanted. All with the delicious flavor of Christian in the air. I'd be using his dishes, reading his books, borrowing his razor, and maybe even sleeping in his bed.

On top of everything else, I would be in Scotland.

When the plane landed, I stopped under the arrival sign to find a man holding a sign that read 'Beth Coldwell'. He was a chauffeur. Other than the flight, Christian wasn’t going to let me do things by myself.

I sighed and glanced at the driver expectantly, while he scouted over my shoulder for someone flashier. I really didn’t want to go with him. It cut down on the adventure, but if I didn’t go with him and got lost… which was clearly what Christian had on his mind when he arranged for him.

“Hi,” I said suddenly. “I’m Beth.”

The guy jumped, unable to hide his shock. “Of course you are. Let’s get your luggage.”

I wasn't like his usual clientele.

Half an hour later, I was sitting in the back of an extremely glossy black car, with my purse on one side and a picnic basket on the other side. “Compliments of Mr. Henderson.”

I waited a full minute before I started interrogating Douglas, the driver. “Does Christian usually order picnic baskets?”

“This is the first time I have been hired by him. I had orders to pick it up right before I got you at the airport.”

It was obvious what the driver thought of me. I could see myself in the rearview mirror because I sat in the middle of the backseat. I had hazel eyes and a round face. There were freckles on my nose and a dimple in my left cheek. My hair was light brown, frizzy and untamable. The color barely contrasted with my honey shaded tan. It all sounds adorable, and it was. The problem was that I still looked like a child, and I wondered when I would stop.

Christian made me feel awkward about my body all the time. He didn’t mean to. At least, he didn’t offer me cosmetic surgery, but he was always trying to doll me up and turn me into someone… shiny. For instance, we might be on vacation together. He would buy me clothes that made me stylish and elegant, but he would also try to buy me impractical, fashionable clothes I didn’t know what to do with. I couldn’t wear them to school. They looked like red carpet ball gowns. What was I going to do with a sequined gown that didn't hide my surgery scars?

His behavior made more sense after our little adventure in Calgary where he dressed up like a sweaty Frenchman and then like a redheaded teenager. I was starting to think that costume changes were more of an interest to him than I had imagined. Maybe he wasn’t trying to make me over because he was dissatisfied with who I was, but instead, because he liked seeing how a costume changed someone.

I opened the picnic basket and I fell in love with him all over again! He sent me cheese, sliced baguette, butternut squash soup, and ripe pears. How could a guy who was hardly ever around know so much about how to please me? I opened the thermos first and drank in the smell of spicy soup.

I settled back into my seat and watched the rain fall against the car windows. It was raining that day. He must have known, but that didn’t mean he was in Glasgow. We headed north and I thought about how going to his house was going to be like opening a present.