The Lass Who Loved a Beast

by Lee, Caroline

  The Lass Who Loved a Beast

  Caroline Lee

  Contents

  Copyright

  About This Book

  Other Books by Caroline Lee

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Books by Caroline Lee

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021, Caroline Lee

  Caroline@CarolineLeeRomance.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2021

  Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page

  Cover: EDHGraphics

  About This Book

  She owns a publishing house and he’s got a library she’ll never forget…hidden away in a foreboding and beastly castle!

  Bonnie Oliphant has endured endless mockery on her quest to own a publishing house. But now that she’s reached her dream, she can’t find authors willing to allow their works to be published by a woman. In desperation, she turns to her sister’s in-law, the brooding and barbaric heir to the laird.

  Lyon Prince is known as the Beast of the Oliphants for good reason. Since losing his wife—and much of his face—to a fire, he’s locked himself in his castle with only a few companions, intent on training his battered body back to his old strength. Everyone knows he’s not fit for company…which is why he’s surprised when a beautiful and determined young woman shows up at his door and demands access to his treasured library.

  Perhaps he should’ve worn trousers.

  When a blizzard traps them in the ancient castle, Lyon is disconcerted to realize he’s coming to LIKE Bonnie. She’s beautiful, aye, but also remarkably driven and one of the wittiest people he’s met. And it’s not just that he enjoys spending time with her…he’s falling in love with her, and that can’t happen. After all, what chance does a beast have with a beauty like her?

  Luckily, whether Lyon knows it or not, he has the extremely silly Guild of Godmothers on his side, and they’re determined to give this beast his Happily Ever After…publishing house and all!

  Warning: Contains more kilts than you’d guess in a Victorian-era romance, but who’s complaining? Also, the typical shenanigans from the godmothers, and more than a little narrative causality.

  Other Books by Caroline Lee

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  Steamy Scottish Historicals:

  The Sinclair Jewels (4 books)

  The Highland Angels (5 books)

  The Hots for Scots (8 books)

  Highlander Ever After (3 books)

  Sensual Historical Westerns:

  Black Aces (3 books)

  Sunset Valley (3 books)

  Everland Ever After (10 books)

  The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet (6 books)

  Sweet Contemporary Westerns

  Quinn Valley Ranch (5 books)

  River’s End Ranch (14 books)

  The Cowboys of Cauldron Valley (7 books)

  The Calendar Girls’ Ranch (6 books)

  Click here to find a complete list of Caroline’s books.

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  Prologue

  “Does anyone want any more tea? I’ll even leave off the incantations.”

  The chorus of Nays which answered Grisel’s innocent question seemed to surprise the godmother, and Evangeline hid her smirk. In the months since their last successful Happily Ever After, the Highlands chapter of the Guild of Godmothers had slowly begun drinking tea again, but it wouldn’t do to push their recovery too soon.

  “Thank you, Grisel,” she said kindly, “but no. One pot was plenty.”

  “Aye,” growled Broca. “I still have to close my eyes whenever I get to the bottom of the pot. I cannae stand to see another tea leaf!”

  Before Grisel could respond—the two of them were always snipping at one another—Evangeline hurried to keep the peace.

  “You did a fine job of reading the tea leaves when Willa needed you to,” she soothed, “but we haven’t had any trouble with the crystal ball since Seonag fixed it—thank you again, Seonag—so there’s no need to borrow trouble.”

  “She doesnae need to borrow it,” muttered Grisel, “it simply follows her around.”

  “I heard that!”

  “Good. Ye were supposed to!”

  Before Evangeline could step in, Willa cleared her throat. Shyly—despite it nearly being a year since she’d become a part of their chapter—she said, “I appreciated yer hard work, Broca. If ye hadnae been able to read the leaves, I wouldnae have been able to follow along with my story. Thanks to ye, we were able to intervene, and Vanessa and Roland are living their Happily Ever After.”

  “Frazzik blen t’ by!”

  As always, the godmothers’ conversation paused as they turned to their oldest member, Seonag. The stem of her pipe was clamped in her teeth, and her eyes were almost hidden by her wrinkled cheeks as she smiled widely. And just as always, every single one of them tried to figure out exactly what in creation the woman had just said.

  Finally, deciding it was better to appear all-knowing than flounder about like a nincompoop, Evangeline nodded firmly. “Exactly, Seonag. Thank you for pointing that out. It has been a few months now since Ember and Vanessa have found their True Loves and overcame all the little stumbling blocks along the way.”

  “Half of which we put in their path,” muttered Broca.

  Evangeline pretended not to hear her. “Willa, do you have an update for us on Vanessa and Roland?”

  The young woman cleared her throat shyly and pushed herself to her feet as she flipped through a sheaf of papers. “As you ken, after their marriage, Roland vowed to spend more time at his own estate of Blabloblal, and Vanessa has settled into life as a viscountess. As we suspected, once away from her mother’s influence, and with Roland to remind her what’s really important in life, Vanessa is doing verra well with responsibility and resources. As Roland kenned she would, she’s using her time to help the people of her estate.”

  “And her nights?” asked Grisel with a waggle of her brows.

  Willa blushed bright pink as she sank back down into her seat. “My report doesnae say anything about that.”

  “I ken. Ye left out the best part.”

  Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Grisel. We’re not all obsessed with the sex act as you seem to be.”

  “Clearly no’, since ye call it ‘the sex act’ instead of making love, or dancing the blanket hornpipe, or having an upside-down nosh—”

  “Ye made that one up,” growled Broca.

  Grisel just smirked and continued. “Tip the velvet or tug on a tallywag—”

  “Now ye’re just showing off.”

  Grisel winked. “Stuff the madge, or pla
y the kettledrums, or my favorite, having a good old-fashioned fu—”

  “Yes, quite!” Evangeline knew she had to take control of this conversation, or they’d be discussing quaint euphemisms for having sex until tomorrow. “Willa, you do not need to tell us if Vanessa and Roland are enjoying their sexual encounters, but Grisel will nag you mercilessly until you give her something.”

  The poor lass’s cheeks were bright red by now, although Evangeline had seen her jotting down a note or two as Grisel was listing off her terms.

  “Um…” Willa peeked up. “The viscount is expecting an heir in the spring. Does that count?”

  There was a pause as everyone worked out what that meant, and then the other Godmothers—including Evangeline, who occasionally allowed herself to display exuberance, when necessary—broke into cheers. Even Broca, whose congratulatory celebration looked as if she was engaged in fisticuffs.

  “I kenned they were going at it like rabbits!” crowed Grisel.

  As the celebration died down, and Grisel, despite everyone’s protests, used the time to make another pot of tea, Evangeline pulled her journal and The Book a little closer. “Let us get down to business, ladies. I believe the time has come to set Lady Bonnie Oliphant on her path to Happily Ever After. Broca, since this is your client, perhaps you can give us a brief overview?”

  Instead of standing, this grumpy godmother folded her arms across her chest and slouched in her chair, her eyes unfocused as she recited the facts.

  “Alright, ye mothers ken, right before Vanessa married Roland, she’d accepted his offer of the spheara. They’d then sold it to Roland’s brother, Phineas, as promised, and Phineas gave them ten times its value, as he’d promised, and they turned around and gave that money to Vanessa’s sister, Bonnie.”

  “Which was very kind of them,” Willa pointed out quietly.

  “Och, be narn f’lingit twig!”

  Willa patted Seonag’s arm. “Well said.”

  Bonnie was nodding, although probably not at Seonag’s words. “Aye, well, the lass kens her own mind, and as soon as she had that money, she wrote to Mr. Grimm in Inverness and made him a fair offer on his publishing house. Ye ken he was ready to retire? So for the last few months, Bonnie has been the proud proprietor of a publishing house in Inverness.”

  Evangeline nodded. “And how is that going?”

  “No’ well, honestly.” Broca shook her head. “She’s struggling to find clients since she lacks the money to travel. Her hope is that the first book she publishes will bring in enough interest she’ll have some applications.”

  Willa was studying her notes. “And that first book will be her history of the area?”

  “Right.” Broca shifted in her seat. “Of course, it’s no’ quite good enough yet, according to her standards. She wants to add color illustrations, which will be hard with the shape of the current presses now sitting in that old rickety publishing house.”

  “Ah!” Grisel’s expression brightened. “And that’ll be yer excuse to throw her and Lyon together, eh?”

  Broca nodded once. “Right. She’ll come back here for the help she needs, but since she can nae longer stay with her mother—”

  Willa’s head jerked up. “And how’d that go? Baroness Oliphant is such a dragon, I cannae believe she was happy about her last daughter running off to Inverness.”

  Broca shrugged. “They argued, but Bonnie isnae some weak-willed lass. She likes books, aye, but she kens what she wants and isnae afraid to go after it, once she has the means and opportunity to do so. She explained to her mother what she was going to do, and though Lady Machara threw a fit, Bonnie went anyway.”

  Grisel whistled. “But Lady Machara runs The Oliphant Inn. If Bonnie cannae stay there…?”

  One of Broca’s rare grins—looking predatory rather than happy—flashed. “She’ll have to find someplace else to stay, will she no’?”

  Grisel and Willa hummed speculatively, while Seonag pulled her pipe from her teeth long enough to point it at Broca’s notes and mumble, “Blarkat fing.”

  Evangeline cleared her throat and tapped one elegant finger on The Book’s table of contents. “And which story structure are you planning on using, Broca? One of the classics?”

  The grumpy godmother leaned forward and frowned down at The Book. “Well, obviously it’s a number three, aye? Bonnie’s name means ‘beauty’ after all, and I’m matching her up with the Beast of the Oliphants. But”—she shook her head and slammed The Book shut—“the rest of it isnae based on any set story. I’m going to do it my own way.”

  Evangeline smiled in anticipation. “I never doubted, Broca. Can you give us a hint though?”

  Broca hummed as she frowned thoughtfully while carefully closing the book. “I’m thinking…a blizzard. Forced proximity, so Lyon can understand who he really is. And perhaps a chance to chase her away, then chase her down?”

  “Oh excellent.” Evangeline nodded approvingly. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Me neither,” mumbled Grisel. “Luckily, we can see it this time.”

  Before the two of them could begin to bicker again, Evangeline pulled the crystal ball toward her. “Indeed. Let us…begin.”

  Chapter 1

  Bonnie Oliphant—Lady Bonnie Oliphant, though she found the title bothersome, it did open doors to her she couldn’t have opened on her own merit—eyed the snow-filled clouds hanging ponderously low on the horizon. “Are ye certain yer brother willnae mind this intrusion?”

  “Lyon? No’ at all.” Sitting beside her on the curricle’s bench, the reins held loosely in his fingers, her friend Phineas lied with a straight face. “He’ll be pleased to see ye.”

  She managed not to snort at the falsehood. “So he kens we’re coming?”

  Phineas shifted on the hard bench, his booted foot knocking into the precious case which contained her manuscript. “He’ll be pleased to see ye,” he repeated.

  “Ah.” That answered her question. “So he doesnae ken we’re coming. Ye didnae mention it to him?”

  Not that she could blame him. His brother, Lyon Prince, heir to Laird Oliphant, held a far more impressive title: The Beast of the Oliphants. The sobriquet was based more on his habit of snarling curt orders at people rather than his appearance, but that wasn’t any better truthfully. Bonnie had only seen the man once up close at a masquerade ball his father had given last summer, and even she—who took no stock in appearances—had been shocked at how horribly the fire had ravaged his face and neck.

  Of course, she’d been shocked by a few other things about him as well.

  Beside her, Phineas cleared his throat. “He kens I’m coming for a visit, and I may have told him I was bringing a friend.”

  “Ah.” Well, she supposed she should at least be flattered Phineas considered her a friend. After all, his brother Roland was married to her sister Vanessa. “I suppose we could be considered family as well?”

  The noise Phineas made was close to the snort she’d been tempted to make earlier. When she glanced at him, he cut her a knowing look before focusing on the road ahead. “I sincerely doubt Lyon considers ye family, milady.”

  “Bonnie,” she corrected absent-mindedly, pondering his words.

  “Bonnie then.” He cleared his throat. “And how goes the publishing business, Bonnie?”

  She sighed, remembering a fortnight before, when she’d visited Blabloblal to learn her sister’s good news about the baby, and how she’d discussed her non-existent business with Phineas then. “Just about the same as the last time we spoke. I’m pleased Mr. Grimm finished off the last of his contracts before selling to me, of course, but that means I have nae current clients, and I havenae had luck finding more.”

  “That is a shame,” he murmured sympathetically.

  “I’m beginning to suspect that my desire to publish books for and by women might be a silly goal, and I should focus on something simpler in order to pay the rent on the building. At least I own the press
es outright, thanks to ye, even if they are out-of-date.”

  “Dinnae thank me,” Phineas said flippantly. “Thank Vanessa and Roland. Without their grand adventure to fetch the golden spheara, I wouldnae have paid quite so much to add it to my collection, and they wouldnae have given ye the money to achieve yer dreams.”

  “Aye, I ken it.” The weight of that debt—given as a gift, but still hanging over her shoulder—reminded Bonnie daily that she had to succeed in the publishing world. If she didn’t, her sister’s good deed would’ve been for nothing.

  She was startled from her moping when he nudged her familiarly with his shoulder. When she looked over at him, he shot her a grin. “Ye’ll be fine, Bonnie. After all, ye’re a strong, independent woman, who isnae afraid of working hard and bucking social trends, aye?”

  “If I wasnae,” she said drily, “I would be scandalized at the thought of sitting alone with ye in an open carriage where anyone could see us getting up to mischief.”

  “Not that there’ll be any hanking or panking. Are ye warm enough?”

  Not really, what with those menacing storm clouds, but they were almost to the old Oliphant Castle, so she shrugged. “I will survive. Dinnae offer to warm me, alright?”

  Phineas burst into laughter. “I wouldnae dream, my dear lady. Ye and I are merely friends, and though I care for ye as a sister-in-law and a fellow scholar, I would only offer to warm ye—scandalously of course—were we in imminent danger. But considering the ancestral home of the Oliphants—and Lyon’s current lair—is looming just ahead, we will no’ reach such a dire situation. Soon, we’ll both be warm enough, and ye’ll have access to the history and paintings ye need for yer book.”