Scotland or Bust

by Kira Archer

This wasn’t supposed to be real. It was a job. Friendship, maybe. And sex. But she had no business having real feelings for him. And even if some miracle had occurred and he returned those feelings, it wasn’t good. She was falling back into the same pattern. Jumping into one relationship after another.

  Though nothing about Harrison felt the same. She’d never experienced the kind of connection she had with him. She couldn’t even define it. She just knew she’d never known anything like it. But that didn’t change anything else.

  “What are you thinking about so hard over there?” he asked her, pressing a kiss to her neck.

  She drew in a tremulous breath. She needed to nip this in the bud or she’d gladly spend the rest of the day in bed with him acting out more things they shouldn’t be doing.

  “Just thinking about how today is our wedding day,” she said with a forced laugh. Surely that would throw a bucket of cold water over him.

  But it didn’t.

  He chuckled and held her tighter. “Aye. And a bonnie day it is for it, too.”

  She laughed despite herself. “What has gotten into you?”

  She felt him shrug behind her. “I think it’s more what I have gotten into. Or who, rather.”

  “Harrison!” she said, rolling over enough so she could slap his shoulder.

  He just laughed again and rolled her the rest of the way so she was half beneath him.

  “My apologies,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

  He kissed her again. Longer. Slower.

  She reached up to push him away. Except instead, her hand tangled in his hair so she could keep him captive. She kicked a leg up over his hip, pressing against him. He drew his hand up along her thigh. Kneaded at the flesh that quivered for him.

  She needed to stop this. Now.

  But her body wasn’t paying attention to a damn thing her brain was telling it. She craved his touch. Burned for him. The second he touched her she didn’t care about anything in the world but getting another taste.

  “Harrison,” she said, rocking against him.

  “Hmm?” he murmured against her skin.

  Before she could get her brain to work enough to get a coherent sentence out, someone banged on their door.

  Nikki yelped and jumped, scrambling away from him to grab the blankets to cover herself.

  Harrison laughed and climbed from the bed. Nikki admired the view he presented as he stepped inside his kilt and pulled it up before going to answer the door.

  Seriously, was there anything in the world sexier than a bare-chested, barefoot man in a kilt? It didn’t matter what kind of arguments she made, all she had to do was take one look at him dressed like that and she suddenly didn’t care if the world burned down around them as long as she could die wrapped in those incredible arms of his.

  He opened the door, and his mother burst in. “What are you two still doing in bed? Do you have any idea how busy today is? Now the guests are all down in the dining hall having breakfast. Most of the staff is down at the chapel spreading candles over every surface possible. Your clothes are in the next room getting the wrinkles steamed out. Your friends have been given their costumes for the day. The priest has arrived and is being fed…”

  “Priest?” Nikki said, her stomach sinking. “Not a real priest, though…”

  Francie waved her off. “No, no, of course not. Though Granny believes he is, and he’s being paid very handsomely to keep up the charade.”

  Nikki sank back against the pillows with a sigh of relief. Harrison looked at her, his brow drawn. She couldn’t quite decipher his expression. Hurt or confusion maybe. Maybe both. She was confused as hell, so it wouldn’t surprise her if he was as well. The whole night had been completely unexpected. A total fantasy come true, but still unexpected. Though every other one of her fantasies seemed to be coming true—from the European vacation to the castles to the whole Outlander experience—so why shouldn’t the hot, kilted lover come true also?

  She rubbed her hand over her face, hoping it would wake her up enough to get a firm grip on reality. It was a fun fantasy fling for sure, but that’s all it was. She needed to get her head out of the clouds. Maybe it was a good thing that the summer was drawing to a close. Too much more time with Harrison Troy and she’d be screwed for life.

  What she refused to admit to herself was that it had already happened. She would be comparing every other man she met against Harrison for the rest of her days. Not fair to herself or to whomever she might meet in the future, but that was the cold, hard fact. And really, who was ever going to measure up to old Harry?

  He was watching her again, apparently waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t heard.

  “I’m sorry, did you ask me something?”

  He chuckled. “A little distracted this morning?”

  She gave him a slow smile. “A little.”

  He sat back on the bed beside her and cupped her face, drawing her in for a soft but heated kiss. “Can’t say I blame you.”

  He kissed her again and stood up. “But we’ve got to get moving. According to my mother, there are no fewer than a million things left to do before this evening, and if we don’t hurry, we are going to miss our own wedding, so to speak.”

  The words our wedding hit her like a stone that sank to the bottom of her stomach. Repeatedly reminding herself that this was just for show didn’t help. It felt far too real. And the fact that a large part of her wanted it to be real was a very bad sign. She always fell too hard, too fast. She had to stop going down the same road or she was never going to get anywhere.

  Much easier said than done, though, when a man like Harrison stood there staring down at her like the answer to every one of her prayers.

  She was so screwed.

  …

  Harrison tugged at the cravat at his throat. He knew the women had the worst of it with the whole corset thing, but the white tie wrapped several times around his neck was still slowly strangling him. How people, men and women, in the eighteenth century didn’t go around dropping like flies, he had no idea.

  The door opened and all thoughts of anything but the vision in front of him evaporated. Nikki stood at the threshold in a near perfect replica of the famous wedding dress from that book and for the first time, the thought that he might have judged the series too harshly crossed his mind. Because, surely, any show that would produce a dress like that couldn’t be all bad. Then again, maybe it was the woman in the dress that made the vision so incredible. She could be wearing a cheap 1980s prom dress and would still look amazing.

  Nothing at all would be even more amazing.

  The dress billowed out from Nicole’s cinched waist like a great pleated bell, split in the front to show the delicate embroidery of the skirt beneath. It was a testament both to Nicole’s stunning beauty and the dress that framed her that the mound of bosom displayed by the corset, while magnificent, managed to not be the main attraction of the dress.

  He didn’t realize he’d been standing there dumbstruck until she gave a nervous laugh.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to say something, because I can’t tell if you approve or if you’re horrified.”

  “Approve,” he said through a suddenly dry throat. “Absolutely, one hundred percent approve. In fact, I think you should go around wearing nothing but that dress for the rest of your life.”

  She laughed. “I’ll admit this dress is incredible, but if I had to wear this thing all the time,” she said, patting her middle where the corset was probably causing bruises, “I’d probably become the village strumpet just so I could go around naked for most of the day.”

  “I’m totally on board with that.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, the naked part,” he said. “No one in the village or anywhere else is going to be seeing that but me.”

  “Agreed,” she said with a little laugh.

  Then her eyes took a leisurely trip over his body, and while the sm
ile stayed on her lips, the humor disappeared. Replaced by the same heat that was slowly building in him. He’d never been with a woman who could strip him bare with just a glance. Quite a few undressed him with their eyes, sure, but this was different. Nicole wasn’t imagining him with no clothes; it was like she was seeing past all his layers. Clothing, emotional walls, soul-searing secrets. She seemed to see it all, and still wanted him.

  That kind of intensity was something he’d never experienced, and it was addicting. He couldn’t imagine anyone else looking at him that way. Couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else to look at him that way. With her, he felt safe. Wanted. No matter what she saw. Anyone else would just make him feel exposed and vulnerable.

  It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, and it was burned away by a bolt of red-hot desire when her mouth dropped open in a little gasp and her breasts did the whole heaving bosom thing always showcased in romance stories. And really with those corsets the poor women had little choice but to have heaving bosoms if they wanted to breathe.

  She crooked her finger at him, and he was a goner.

  …

  Beckoning him over was a mistake. Doing what she was about to do was a bigger mistake. She needed to walk away, enjoy the memories of the night before without compounding all the issues that were going to arise from spending the night with Harrison Troy.

  But he was standing there, in full Highland glory like a living, breathing fantasy come to life. After he’d already proved the night before exactly how much of a living fantasy he was. How in the hell was she supposed to resist that?

  Once more. Just one more time. One more memory to carry with her when she moved on with her life. A few more minutes in his arms and then she’d walk away. Get back to reality. Finally accomplish surviving on her own.

  He came toward her slowly. Stalking her. His eyes burning into hers, captivating her, wiping out any thoughts that weren’t of him and everything she wanted him to do to her.

  He didn’t stop when he reached her. Instead, he wrapped one arm around her waist and backed her right up against the door. Her mouth dropped open in a gasp, and he captured her lips, swallowing her moan as he moved her slightly, to the table that sat near the door.

  He swept his arm out, knocking off the lamp and whatever else had been on the table.

  She tore her mouth from his and giggled. “Someone’s going to hear.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, crushing his mouth back to hers.

  He dug through the million layers she wore until his hand found the bare skin of her thigh, and his lips nipped and kissed their way down her neck to her overflowing breasts.

  She gasped and held on to him, too constricted by the corset and bunched up layers of skirt to move much. Her forced stationary position was both frustrating and off the charts intense, especially when he discovered that, in the spirit of authenticity, she was going full commando, her body draped in a shift, petticoats, and heavy skirts, but nothing else. And she sincerely hoped there was nothing beneath that kilt of his.

  “Ready for me already?” he said, his voice a husky whisper against her lips.

  “God yes.” She managed to hike his kilt out of way, thanking whatever ancient Scot had decided real men didn’t need knickers. “Now,” she urged him, arching against his hand. “Please, now.”

  He released her with a growl, storming across the room to his nightstand to grab a condom, and getting it on and returning to her before she had time to catch her breath. He hitched her leg around his waist, and shifted her to the edge of the table so he could plunge himself to the hilt inside her.

  She could do little more than hold on. Her dress constricted her movements, keeping her from moving with him. There was nothing she could do to help relieve the pressure building inside her. No way to ease the torturous build up or hurry it along. All she could do was cling to him. Pleasure rippled through her with every thrust of his body. It was a prison from which she never wanted to escape. He owned her. Completely.

  Footsteps sounded outside the hall, and he covered her mouth with his to muffle their cries when her pleasure finally crested, cascading through her with such intensity her body shook with it.

  They stayed locked together, foreheads resting against each other, as they each fought to regain their breath. She looked up into his eyes, her heart fracturing when he gave her a lopsided smile. She drew him down for a kiss, squeezing her eyes shut tight against the sight of his face. If she looked at him in that moment, she’d never leave. Already she knew it would kill something in her to walk away from him. Leaving meant losing him, but staying meant losing herself. For once, she was going to make the best choice for herself. For her future.

  No matter how badly it hurt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harrison stood at the front of the group in the “old” stone church that had been built on the property. Actually, there had been a church there a few hundred years before. Granny had been ecstatic when she’d found out he was restoring it. Well, recreating it. There hadn’t been much left but a few broken down walls. At the time, he hadn’t been remotely happy about the added expense for a building whose only purpose was to serve as a tourist attraction for rabid fans from that book.

  But now…it was perfect. A flawless recreation of the show version. The torch and candlelight flickered on the stone walls, casting their glow on the thick, lead-paned glass windows that let in the watery light from the evening sun. Every corner had been decked out with greenery and wild Highland flowers, and an almost tangible excitement ran through the “guests” as they stood, arrayed in their Scottish finery, waiting for the bride to arrive. He could almost believe that they’d stepped back in time a few hundred years.

  The sun was briefly blocked out as Nicole entered through the small doorway, her voluminous dress filling the narrow space. She looked nervous, her eyes darting about until they landed on him. He didn’t know why she was anxious. She was as much of a crazy fan as the crowd spread around them. He’d have thought this would be the highlight of her trip. Stage fright maybe?

  He gave her an encouraging smile, but although her gaze locked with his, her face paled another shade or two. He took a step toward her, his forehead creasing in a frown. When he took her hand in his to lead her the rest of the way, it was like he held a block of ice.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered to her.

  She nodded. He didn’t believe her. Something was going on.

  They stood before the priest, a local actor his mother had hired. The man certainly looked the part, and sounded it as he opened his scripture and droned on for a minute in Latin. There were tremulous inhalations and even sniffles from the audience, and Harrison just resisted rolling his eyes. He tried to catch Nicole’s gaze again, share his secret amusement at the whole thing with her. She wouldn’t look at him though, aside from a few quick glances.

  As the fake ceremony continued, Harrison’s amusement faded. Even having to ramble the ridiculously long name of that man didn’t quite kill the atmosphere. It didn’t feel fake anymore. He stood with the most beautiful woman in the world, before a priest, repeating vows that had been spoken between man and wife for centuries.

  He should be panicking. Freaking out. Pretense or not it felt real enough that he should be quaking in his boots. But he wasn’t. He was calm. Collected.

  Happy.

  He’d never considered himself the marrying kind, but then he hadn’t met Nicole. She wasn’t anything he’d expected. She didn’t check any of the boxes on his mental list. And yet there he stood, her hand in his, repeating vows—the whole fake aspect not withstanding—and instead of cringing from the entire thing, he found that he liked the way it felt to be standing there with her. It felt good. Right.

  It was time for Nicole-as-Claire to repeat her vows.

  He stared into her eyes, waiting to see the same realization that he’d just had. Waiting to see the surprise, maybe. The happiness. The desire. Instead, he saw a mixture of emotion
s he couldn’t quite identify, mixed with sheer panic.

  And then he saw the back of her head as she picked up her skirts and ran for it.

  …

  Nikki sank onto a bench in the garden. The pain radiating from her breaking heart made her want to crumple into a ball. But with the damned corset, she couldn’t even bend, let alone curl up enough to hug her knees to her chest. So she settled for hunching over slightly and covering her face with her hands. Not nearly as comforting, but it would do.

  “No point in crying about it, lass.”

  Nikki looked up with a gasp until she spotted Granny a few feet away, digging under a shrub. “What are you doing down there?” she asked.

  “Looking for my treasure o’ course. It occurred to me it was more likely Bertie hid it here. We loved this place.”

  She got a faraway look in her eye that made Nikki’s heart clench.

  “Run out on yer wedding, did ya?” Granny asked.

  Nikki gave her a half-hearted smile. “Something like that. Weren’t you there? I thought you were excited about the whole thing.”

  Granny snorted. “Too big a crowd for me, and full of people I’d never seen or heard of.” She frowned and shoveled through the dirt again. “People will turn up out of the clear blue sky if there’s a party going on. Probably not a one of them is connected to the family.”

  Nikki smiled again. Granny had no idea how right she was.

  “Ran out of me own wedding the first time,” Granny said.

  Nikki was surprised. “You did?”

  “Sure thing! Well, almost. Two days before the ceremony. Left Bertie a note that said I couldn’t go through with it and I hoped he had a good life, but that we wouldn’t be any good together.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Hunted me down and told me he disagreed. Then went about showing me how wrong I was.” She winked at Nikki who couldn’t help smiling.

  “But…I thought he was the love of your life.”

  “He was. Still is. But sometimes a lass just needs to know that her man loves her enough to come after her. Not that I knew that was why I was doing it at the time.”