A Scot Like You (The MacLarens of Balmorie, 2)

by McKellar, Kam

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Author's Note

  Other Books

  Excerpt of The Trouble With Kilts

  Quick Links

  A SCOT LIKE YOU

  A SCOT LIKE YOU

  Copyright © 2013 by Kam McKellar

  Excerpt of The Trouble With Kilts Copyright © 2013 by Kam McKellar

  ISBN: 978-0-9885225-3-4

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, uploaded, shared, or transmitted in any form or means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting and supporting author rights.

  Cover Design: Lewellen Designs

  Chapter 1

  Don't freak out. Act normal.

  Easy to say. But way harder to do. As soon as Kate looked out the window and saw the land 10,000 feet below her, the song from Braveheart wafted through her brain like a summer breeze over heather-covered hills, and she wanted to scream like a groupie at an all boy band concert.

  A huge grin split her face, and she bounced a few times—discreetly, of course—in her seat.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she'd be here. And she sure as hell never thought her cousin's trip to Scotland three months ago would result in an engagement with a half Scot, ex-marine, Innkeeper.

  Kate sighed. So romantic.

  Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the last few months and the utter wreck her own life had become. Funny how things worked out. Lucy's life had risen to joyous highs as Kate's had crumbled to dust.

  Just . . . crumbled.

  Needing a distraction, she turned to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams. But the elderly woman kept her attention fixed solidly forward. Which might have been Kate's fault to begin with.

  When she'd sat down next to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams seven or so hours prior, Kate had struck up a mostly one way conversation. Mrs. F.G.W. had learned all about Lucy's whirlwind romance, Kate's itinerary for the next two weeks, followed by her reasons for the trip, and her break up with He Who shall Not Be Named (one Holden Morten who had earned himself the name Holdenmort for good reason). After that, she might have revealed the origins of her love affair with Scotland—the discovery of Grammy Lin's cache of lusty romances and her well-loved edition of Highlander's Harlot.

  After that Ms. Fitz-Grant-Williams avoided her altogether.

  Which was okay because Kate brought said book with her to pass the time.

  Bringing that old paperback felt like a rite of passage. She wasn't really sure why she'd brought it really. She'd been angry when she grabbed it, angry at Holden. Angry at love. Angry at the book for making her believe in heroes and happily ever afters.

  Her cousin, Riley, had swiped Highlander's Harlot (affectionately dubbed, Double H) from Gram's porch swing at the age of thirteen and read it out loud to Kate and Lucy under the covers of their make-shift fort. Ever since, Kate dreamed of her own sexy Highlander with a voice potent enough to conquer worlds, and a body to rock them all.

  She sighed.

  Screw Holdenmort. Evil jerk.

  Not that he'd ever rocked her world or loved her in that way.

  But trust was trust. Friendship could be as deep and true as any other kind of love.

  Kate forced away the negativity. This was going to be the best vacation of her life, damn it. It had to be because she wasn't going to settle for anything less.

  Scotland and Kate, she mused, together at last.

  The lovely brogue that came over the speaker to announce their landing nearly did her in. Kate sighed again and settled back.

  Fasten your seat belts, lairds and laddies, she thought with a smile, Katherine Lee Walker is about to land.

  After a long drive, and some scenery that was a gazillion times more stunning than anything she'd seen in pictures, Kate arrived at Balmorie Estate and the lovely old castle/Victorian manor where the hills were green, flowers bloomed, the long loch gleamed.

  The newly opened guest house was everything Lucy had said it was and more, comprised of an L-plan castle with a later Victorian era addition. It was five stories high, with peaks and gables and tall arched windows. Imposing. Grand. Gothic. Its history went back hundreds of years. The MacLaren's history went back even farther.

  For a history nut like Kate, the house was twenty-five thousand square feet of ambrosia, give or take a few thousand.

  As the driver went slowly past the house and down the curving dirt road that shadowed the loch, Kate gathered her things. She'd insisted on staying in one of the estate's rental cottages rather than the castle—granted the place was huge, but she needed her own space, a place to cry out loud if she wanted, sleep all day, not shower if she felt like it... And the last thing she wanted was to go all weepy and embarrass herself in front of Lucy, Ian, and his guests.

  About a mile away and out of sight of Balmorie, the stone cottage appeared as the van left a wooded grove. It sat in an open curve of green that hugged the shape of the loch. Kate could walk right out the back door, go a few steps, and sit on the rocks above the water. Perfect didn't even begin to cover it. When Lucy said she'd pick the right cottage, she hadn't been lying.

  Sitting in the shadow of some ruined old castle, which was supposedly nearby, or walking along the loch… Those things, those simple things she hoped would lead to some inner healing.

  That was the plan anyway.

  "Would ye like help with yer bags, miss?"

  Kate smiled and joined the driver at the back of the van where he removed her luggage. He could "ye" at her all day long and she'd never get tired of it.

  "That's okay. I can take it from here. Thanks, though." She pulled fare and tip from her pocket, handed the bills over, and then grabbed a handle in each hand, taking the small stone path leading to the cottage.

  There was a number three written on the light blue door. The shutters were the same color and the windows boxes were full of flowers. It was tiny, one level with a front door, flanked by two windows. She knew from the pictures online that it had a small kitchen, a living room with a wood-burning fireplace, and one bedroom with bath.

  Sure enough the door was unlocked and the key was on the kitchen table just as Lucy had said in her text earlier.

  It was just as cute on the inside. A small bottle of whisky, a basket with fresh bread, cheese, smoked salmon, and a bottle of white wine had been left on the table along with several guides and brochures and the breakfast menu for the next morning.

  Tired, she set the wine in the fridge, pulled her luggage into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and burst into tears.

  She could have blamed the jet lag,
but it'd be a lie.

  And she was sick of lies.

  Angry with herself, she dried her tears and went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. It was freezing, but invigorating. She wished her whole body could feel that way. Get a jolt. Wake the hell up.

  Looking through the small window over the sink, she eyed the loch. It was so still and quiet, and she bet it'd feel amazing. The road was deserted. The woods shielded the cottage. To the left, the curving road led back to the castle. To the right, the road continued, disappearing around the bend. There were sheep grazing on the hills and according to Lucy the cottage was on part of the working farm of the estate.

  There wasn't a soul around...

  Kate chewed on her bottom lip. Should she do it?

  There was a time when she'd been the wild one. Riley was the hard-ass, sometimes troublemaker. Lucy, the dreamer. And Kate had worn her heart on her sleeve—much good that had done her. She was no longer wild, and no longer trusting or forgiving.

  It'd been so long since she'd done anything spontaneous. She wasn't sure who she was anymore or when she'd become so . . .safe and predictable.

  Her teeth gritted together. Maybe that was her problem. Maybe she'd lost touch with herself a long time ago. Screw predictable.

  She was out the front door before she could stop herself.

  Quickly, she crossed the grass and stepped onto the rocks above the water where she removed her shoes and socks. Already her adrenaline was rising, filling her with energy and more excitement than she'd felt in a long time. The sun was going down and there was a definite chill coming. But chill was good. Chill would get her blood flowing.

  From her position, she'd have to jump. The water was clear and certainly deep enough.

  With one last look around, making certain she was alone, she pulled off her yoga pants and T-shirt, then shimmied out of her underwear and bra. For a second she just stood there, straightening her posture, closing her eyes and feeling the air on her skin. Feeling empowered.

  Then, she drew in a deep breath and leapt off the rock.

  Holy crap! The arctic water stole her breath and she came up shocked and gasping. Through the din, she heard a dog barking nearby. Treading water, she turned toward the sound to see a black Scottish Terrier standing on shore. Its coat was matted, no collar, and it looked a little on the thin side. Lost or a stray maybe.

  "Quiet!" she commanded in her best alpha voice.

  Immediately it stopped barking and sat down. Impressive. Apparently, it was trained, too, picking up on Kate's tone without pause. With a shrug, she spun around in the water and then started to swim. Cold, yes, but it did feel amazing.

  She hadn't done anything this crazy in a long, long time.

  Happy, she dove under, gliding through the clear water, then coming up to swim on her back and watch the sky change colors as the sun set.

  Eventually, the cold water won out and chill seeped into her bones. But finding a place to exit proved challenging. There was no point in swimming back to the rocks she'd leapt off—they were too high to climb.

  Crap.

  She probably should have thought about that before she'd leapt.

  Finally she found a flat area and made her way over the slippery rocks to the shore. Not exactly how she pictured the whole skinny-dipping endeavor going. Now she had to hurry down the road buck-ass naked and shivering. Not that anyone would be—

  Shit! Car!

  Heart in her throat, she looked around for cover. There were no trees handy. Just an old barn across the road and the loch. Too cold to contemplate going back into the arctic water, she raced across the road, up a short drive, and yanked open the barn door, shutting it behind her and peeking through the crack to await the passerby.

  Either he was losing it—and that could very well be the case—or there was a naked woman in his barn.

  Dev stood frozen, rooted to the spot, wrench in his hand, body pressed against the side of the tractor as he reached toward the motor.

  There was a naked woman in his barn.

  One who was clutching the door, muttering to herself about never going skinny-dipping again, and shifting from foot to foot with impatience. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. His gaze traveled over her trim ankles, slim calves and thighs, to an ass that could make the angels weep. Damn. He almost teared up in appreciation.

  Long hair hung down her back in clumpy strands, and water dripped from the ends onto her lower back, wet streaks gliding over those amazing cheeks…

  He fumbled the wrench.

  Clangs echoed through the barn as the wrench dropped into the motor.

  The woman spun around, quickly locating the source of the noise.

  Dev straightened slowly, his eyes going wider. Christ it just kept getting better. The front was just as impressive as the back. He tried, he really tried to be a gentleman and not look. But he was momentarily dumbstruck. Blind-sided.

  In a delayed reaction, the woman covered her breasts with her arm and hand, and used the other to shield lower.

  His heart pounded. His eyes were going to pop out of his head. Did she have to put her hand there?

  He wasn't sure if he ever saw anything sexier then this dripping wet goddess with her hands on herself.

  And he was just standing there like some teenage virgin idiot as Hamish's truck rattled past the barn—there was no mistaking the sound of that old rust bucket. There wasn't a blanket or cloth in sight unless his work rags counted. Not knowing what else to do, and feeling like he was in some bizarre x-rated Twilight Zone episode, he grabbed the end of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

  "Here." He stepped forward and held it out to her. "You all right?"

  She didn't seem afraid or panicked, just highly irritated and wary of her new predicament. She grabbed the shirt, and plastered it against her front. At least it covered the finer points. Just barely.

  "Do I look all right to you?"

  Wisely, Dev did not comment.

  Her eyes lashes were spiky and dark from the water. He was pretty sure even dry, her hair would be black. She had smooth pale skin, dark lips, and blue eyes. He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the overgrown stubble on his jaw. He was dirty, his hands and arms streaked with grease and motor oil from working all day on the bloody tractor. The sudden image of his work worn hands on her clean skin made him take a step back.

  Get a fucking grip, man.

  Her eyes swept over his bare chest. A frown pulled down the corner of her mouth and she fixed him with an arched look.

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  The air in the barn became hard to breathe. Blood rushed through his body like a burning freight train. The awareness was so thick and heavy it left him dazed and speechless. It made him wonder if he'd smacked his head on the tractor, and was in a pornographic coma.

  "You mind turning around?"

  Dev jerked. He spun around, cursing himself. What the hell was wrong with him just standing there ogling her like that? He knew better. She'd just surprised him, knocked his good sense right out the bloody window.

  "Thanks for the shirt."

  Dev turned around to tell her anytime and apologize for the staring match, but she'd slipped out the door. By the time he flung it wide, she was already in the road and running away.

  Chapter 2

  Kate wanted nothing more than to put her encounter with the smoking hot Scot behind her. Talk about humiliating. But try as she might, she couldn't get the image of him out of her mind. Not when she'd gone to bed last night. Not when she woke this morning. And not now, when she was riding the bike Lucy had left for her to use.

  The guy had such a wild look about him, his wavy hair a little on the long side, his jaw full of attractive scruff. He was tall and broad shouldered and built really, really well. She'd bet his abs were hard as oak planks. A stoic, bad-ass vibe surrounded him, a deep, quiet vibe. It was in his eyes too. She'd just bet that deepness meant he had a t
on of baggage. Good thing she'd run as soon as she had. The last thing she needed was more baggage.

  With her mind wandering, she stopped paying attention to where she was going and veered into grass on the side of the road. "Whoa—" The bike rattled and bounced, making her grip the handlebars tightly, as she steered back onto the dirt road. Once there, she slowed, heart pounding. No more thinking about the guy from the barn unless she wanted to crash and show up for lunch with dirt in her teeth—not the impression she wanted to make with Lucy's soon-to-be hubby.

  As she rounded the curve and got her second look at Balmorie, nerves began taking hold. Talk about making impressions. The castle was so regal and old. Blue-blooded. Kate was anything but. She wondered if her loose linen skirt, V-neck T-shirt, and flip-flops were too casual.

  After parking the bike by the massive entrance, she smoothed her skirt, righted her shirt, and tucked a few errant strands of long bangs behind her ear. Maybe she should have fixed her hair instead of doing her usual messy twist…

  "Ah. Ye must be Kate," a red-haired man greeted, opening the door wide before she even had a chance to knock. He grinned at her through a red beard peppered with gray. There was an assessing twinkle in his bright blue eyes, too.

  "I am." She shook his hand. His grip was firm and full of enthusiasm.

  "Kate!" Lucy appeared, angling her way through the door, her arms outstretched. "You're really here. God, I've missed you so much." Lucy squeezed her hard and then stood back, both hands on Kate's shoulders.

  Her cousin's wide grin and glassy eyes, made Kate feel warm and fuzzy inside. Lucy always gave the best hugs. "It's good to be here," she said, relieved, realizing how worried she'd been about losing Lucy. Worried that the once tight group of Lucy, Kate, and Riley was finally breaking apart, moving on. But one look at the love on Lucy's face and Kate knew that no matter how much distance was put between them, they'd still be as tight as ever.

  "This is Hamish," Lucy introduced her to the old man.