by Melissa Blue
Tristan snorted. “I know a lie when I hear it.”
She held his gaze and could see he probably did. So she clamped her mouth shut and refused to dig herself into a deeper hole.
Tristan began to nod as though his mind was made up. “My cousin has been a miserable shite since we arrived. It wasn't the usual misery from him. It's kind of how I figured it out. Despite what he says and thinks, I care for the bastard. I know how it feels. I went through it with my Keri.” He pinned her with a look. “Did you make him happy? Did he make you happy?”
Victoria may doubt Callan loved her or ever could, but she knew in her heart she'd made him happy. He'd said as much the day before, but what he hadn't said was that he loved her. How she felt about him was out there in the open. Callan knew, but Tristan didn't.
“No,” she lied again.
He took her hands in his. “I'm going to help you, but you have to trust me.”
If he'd spoken any other words she might have believed him. Maybe could have said yes emphatically without giving it thought. But trust him? Anyone? She'd fallen for Callan, but in the back of her mind she knew it wouldn't go anywhere. He'd never let go of his wife. A choice she'd been okay with because it left her heart safe. She covered her face with her hand.
If she was pregnant, would their child come second to the ones he could have had with his wife?
Fear grew tentacles and squeezed her heart. Trust Callan? He'd given her the perfect reason to walk away and she had taken it. She glanced down at her other hand, still cradling her stomach and then closed her eyes. “I don't need any help. I'm on edge. That's all.”
“Okay,” Tristan said softly. “I'll drop this. I won't mention it to Ian before you have the chance.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him because he'd ignored every one of her lies. Finally, she sighed. “Just like that you'll drop this?”
A slow smile crept over his face. “No.”
She surprised herself and laughed. “There are always strings attached when dealing with a Baird.”
“Aye, but it's a simple bargain. You just have to go see Douglass. He's been chomping at the bit. I've actually lost my patience to deal with him and Ian never had any.”
It was a simple bargain. Simple. That's what she needed right now. One foot in front of the other, because her life, her heart was teetering on an edge.
She exhaled. Stopping at the store would be simple too. She had to know one way or another just what lay beyond that edge. “I wanted to see Douglass before I left anyway.”
“Good. That sounds real good.” He grinned.
For some reason Victoria started to feel like she just got conned.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It surprised Callan that Douglass had phoned to invite him over. Idle threats weren't Papa Baird's forte. If he said don't darken my door, he meant it. Callan quit work early, checked to see if Victoria had made it home yet—she hadn't—and then made his way to Baird's.
He knocked once and then used his key. The moment he stepped inside, he knew Victoria was there. He hadn't lost that preternatural sense. The air filled with a different energy and the world around him lit with color. Nothing but Victoria mattered as he sucked in vanilla scented air.
Papa Baird had been right to tear into him. Callan would be fucking daft if he didn't give her a reason to stay. He needed her to breathe easy. He wanted to do the same for her. It was just that simple, not complicated at all. And how lucky was he to find love again? To even be able to feel it so deeply it took his breath away.
Her back was to him as she set a kettle on the stove. She turned with a smile and it froze on her lips when her gaze clashed with his. She wore a plain blouse, navy blue slacks and he'd never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. A more kind and patient woman, because she had to be to have dealt with him.
What was the advice Papa Baird had given him? There were only two things he needed to say: I'm sorry and I love you.
He'd said the first, but hadn't the balls to say the second, but the day before she'd kissed him goodbye and meant it. She was leaving so what did fear mean? Hadn't it held him back so long already?
And this moment wasn't about him. It was about letting her know she mattered more than anything in his world. She hadn't been some wet hole to make him feel better. He didn't just care for her, he loved her. She made him want to live again, and she should know that.
His heart kicked up from nerves, but he didn't let that stop him from saying, “I love you, Victoria.”
Pain, that he had put there, filled her eyes. That crushed him, but he swallowed and said it again with more force, “I love you, Victoria.”
“Tristan must have told you,” she said and her voice broke. She turned back to the stove, but he still saw the tears. “You don't have to do this. It's okay.”
He stood there dumbstruck. “Tristan?”
She slammed the kettle down. “He's no better than Douglass when it comes to setting me up. When you weren't here, I relaxed. I should have known better.”
He moved away from the door and entered the kitchen but stopped near the table. He'd just spilled his heart out to her and she was talking about his cousin and Papa Baird. “What the fuck does Tristan have to do with anything?”
Finally she looked at him, confusion pulling at her brows. “You don't know.”
“Know what?”
She blinked, the confusion deepening. “Then why are you saying you love me?”
“Because I do,” he threw at her.
She stood there, her hand gripped on the kettle. She started to shake her head. “Don't say it if you don't mean it. Not today. Not right now. We need to talk and you might feel differently.”
He hadn't expected open arms and tears, but how deeply had he hurt her? “No. I'm a stubborn bastard. If I love you today, I'm going to love you tomorrow. I'll probably always be grouchy and occasionally sad. I'm not a lighthearted man anymore. But know this, I love you.”
She kept shaking her head, so he went on.
“If you will let me, I plan to wake up every morning and to love you like it's my last.”
She bit into her bottom lip and tears started to fall. That did him in. He swept her up into his arms and kissed her until she melted into him. God. He'd missed her. Missed the way everything inside him fell away and nothing but her mattered. He cradled her face and pulled back. “I love you, Victoria. I'm going to say it until you believe me.”
Her breath caught as the tears came down faster. “I'm pregnant.”
His world stopped spinning. “What?” he whispered.
“I told you to wait, but then you did that whole speech and kissed me.” She tried to step back but Callan refused to let her go. “I'm pregnant. I took a test before I came over here. And then I took two more. Blue lines, two lines and a digital voice confirmed it's a sure thing.” She sucked in a breath and tried to hide all the emotions on her face. “I know this is a lot to take in. I'll give you time. Hell, I need time.”
Callan glanced down and looked at her stomach. His child. Theirs. Apparently words had failed him, and clearly she didn't believe them anyway. He dragged her back up to his mouth and kissed her deeper. He kissed her in a way that left no doubt she was the one who held his heart now and always. He hoped it eased all her hurts, her fears and everything in between until all she could feel was joy, need and love. When she moaned and grabbed his shirt, he kept right on kissing her.
“Laddie,” Douglass barked. “Let the woman breathe.”
He listened to his uncle, but first brushed his lips over her cheeks, the tears. “Where did you come from?” Callan asked, annoyed.
“The pub. Just in time to save her too.”
Victoria laughed, but she placed a hand on his jaw. “Callan—”
“I love you, Victoria.”
*****
Victoria pressed her face into his chest, because he kept saying those words and it didn't feel real. She'd been trying to hold it together
since the first test came back positive. She was on the pill but they hadn't been careful. But still, she couldn't be. Not when the child's father didn't love her back. She refused to cry or break so she'd bossed Douglass around until he found some excuse to check on the pub. Unfortunately that left her alone with her thoughts.
It didn't take long for her to play out every moment since she'd stepped foot in Scotland. Callan's kisses, their sex, his worry for her, the inner war playing over his face as he comforted her, cared for her. He hadn't wanted to fall for her any more than she wanted to fall for him and they had anyway. And now he'd stopped fighting the inevitable. Could she?
Callan tightened his arms around her as she began to tremble. When she looked up at him, his eyes had darkened with concern, love. The wall around her heart started to crumble.
“I love you,” he said again.
She'd seen the words before he'd said them, but she had to know for sure. And then she could breathe again. “Are you sure, Callan? Me and a baby. I can't do this if you're just going to hurt me again. I won't.”
“If I showed you would you believe me then?”
She frowned, not sure what he meant. “Show me?”
Callan turned to Douglass who sported a big grin. Callan said, “Go get the plaid.”
“The plaid?” she asked before meeting his gaze again.
He caught the stray tears with his thumb and wiped them away. Her heart twisted at the gentle action. “Callan, the plaid?”
“There was a time in Scotland where you said to someone, I, Callan Jacob Baird, will take you to be my wife in one year and one day. But we both know I'm not that patient so let's settle for the first plane ride your mother and sister can make it out.”
Victoria had to admit, she got a little dizzy. “Oh, you're serious.”
“Aye,” he said simply.
Things were moving so fast she could barely keep up. He loved her. He wanted their baby. He wanted to marry her. She pressed her face back into his shirt and couldn't hold back the flood of tears. She wanted to blame hormones, shock, but it was him. Just him.
He held her to him and murmured soft, comforting words. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”
The question was could she trust him? Victoria rubbed her face into his shirt to get rid of the tears before she met his gaze. She could still see the faint touches of grief in his eyes, but she could also see love. And she knew he'd lie for her. He'd wake up early in the morning just so he could be with her. He'd be honest even when she hated the answer. He would never break a single promise he made to her. And if she told him no now, he'd let her go.
She cupped his face, and pressed his forehead to hers. “Callan, I love you.”
He swallowed, his gaze open for her to see everything he felt for her. And it rocked her. He may never be a lighthearted man but when he gave, he gave his all.
Victoria asked, “What's next?”
“The Chieftan of the clan was good enough then to recognize this promise.” He glanced over her head. “There's ours.”
She followed his gaze and saw Douglass. “If he's our Chieftan we're screwed as a clan.”
Callan laughed. “And that's why we tended to exchange these vows in a room full of people.” He frowned. “Where are my cousins?”
“In the pub,” she said.
“Baird,” Callan said.
“They're on their way up,” Douglass grouched back.
“Good.” He kissed Victoria on the forehead and kept wiping away the tears that had continued to fall.
They both sighed when his cousins came in. She braced herself for what came next because it would be pretty clear she'd broken all the rules. All the rules.
“Relax,” Callan whispered. “I will beat him bloody if he fires you.”
“You can't,” she said scandalized and a little bit proud.
“I will,” his tone had turned a bit savage.
Ian's brows went up and he looked at Douglass. “What's going on?”
No surprise, Tristan shared Douglass' smile. “Oh, Callan. I didn't expect to see you here. It's almost like someone planned it.”
“I so got conned,” Victoria muttered.
Callan laughed. “You probably did. He's a shifty bugger, but he's a good enough witness for this.”
She shook her head and looked at Callan. “A witness?”
“Betrothals require witnesses. And, you should know if a marriage promise is consummated prior to the wedding date it's considered a marriage.”
Ian said to Victoria, “I should have known.”
Tristan supplied, “And you have no stones to throw. What was Jocelyn to you? You know, before you married her? A coworker, right?”
Ian muttered a curse at the truth.
She tensed and Callan let out a growl. Ian sighed and turned to Victoria, his tone soft and kind, “Betrothals are not legal and binding anymore. You can still find someone who wouldn't sing Robert Burns' diddies when they get smashed. Find someone else to marry.” Ian shook his head, likely knowing she wouldn’t. “You took one of my best fucking employees,” he directed this to Callan. “You manky bastard.”
He hushed his cousin, but said to her, “Don't listen to him.”
She laughed, her face flushed. “He just said I was one of his best employees.”
“Only an idiot would think you weren't. You're a shark.” Callan kissed her brow and then the corner of her mouth. “Will you marry me?”
She blinked fast but couldn't stop the next wave of tears. She had no doubts, no hesitation when she said as her answer, “I, Victoria Marie Burke, will take you as my husband as soon as my parents and sister get to Scotland.”
The Baird moved beside them. Pleasure creased Callan's laugh lines. It took her a moment to understand what was happening. Douglass held a foot-long strip of plaid in his hand. She'd done research, a ton of it and her heart ached at this simple ritual, not complicated at all.
Her features softened. “But you said only purist or tourist had plaids and that you weren't a big enough clan to have one.”
The Baird held up the fabric. “We're part of a bigger clan that has one and...we make an exception for marriage to actually use it,” Douglass said. He took the foot long plaid and stretched it out. “Take his hand.”
Without hesitation she did and the Baird tied their hands together. Callan said when his uncle finished, “If you’re insane enough to love Scotland, I don't think you will mind this instead of a ring right now.” He closed his eyes and kissed their joined hands. “Consider this my engagement ring, lass.”
She laughed, her heart filled with so much love. “I did. I fell hard for Scotland and then you.”
His expression turned somber. “Are you sure? Do you have anymore doubts?”
She started to shake her head before she said, “No.”
His hand went to her stomach “A wee Baird.” He rested his head on hers and whispered, “Every day, my lass. Every day I will love you. I promise. I love you, Burke.”
Her throat felt tight but she put her hand over his. It took her a moment to find the ability to speak. “Are we supposed to kiss to make this engagement official?”
“No, but kiss me anyway.”
Though it was just their beginning—her and their family—Callan started to make good on his promise and he kissed her like it would be their last one.
THE END
If you loved KILTLESS, you'll love the next two books in the Under the Kilt series:
KILT TEASE
SCOT APPEAL
Also, I hope you'll consider leaving a review for KILTLESS at whichever e-retailer you purchased it from so other contemporary romance readers can discover it!
If you want a taste of something a little darker and angsty, check out my #dirtysexygeeks series.
TO ONE HUNDRED
DOWN TO ASH
BLUEST OF BLUE
You find my full backlist on my website:
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sp; BIO
Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.
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EXCERPT FROM KILT TEASE
Quinton Baird needs a pretend girlfriend and Katherine Campbell made a promise to live a wild adventure. When reality, and the press, threaten their fictional romance, Quinton will have to trust that Kate's feelings for him are genuine or risk losing her for good.
Chapter One
Katherine Campbell sipped her Coke as the fate of her employment played out between a pregnant African American woman and a Scottish curmudgeon. She propped her feet up on the pub's booth's seat across from her, settling in since this argument showed no signs of ending any time soon.
That was more than fine, her feet hurt anyway and the pub was toasty. She’d trekked from St. Jude’s, the hospital sponsoring her registered nursing work visa, thinking the Baird’s Drunken Barrel was a straight shot from the location. It hadn’t been, and she’d got lost twice.
Even then she couldn’t entirely complain. Kate got to see Glasgow—the brick walkways, the bag pipe musicians playing across the street from a McDonald’s, churches that looked more like castles. The past and present intermingled so effortlessly that it left her in a state of awe. The pub was no different—emphasis on pub. The framed-plaids along the walls were interceded by flat screen TVs. Even though the place was empty this early in the morning, she had no doubt it would be filled to the brim after opening its doors.
“Who is winning?” a deep Scottish baritone caressed her earlobe.