On day five, I catch her looking at me through the kitchen window. I’m outside by the shed, trying to clean up so I don’t trek mud in the house she’s been working endlessly to clean. I pull off my work shirt, my boots, my jeans. And I turn, smiling at her. Her eyes widen, she covers her mouth, having been caught. She spun around but damn, if my cock didn’t want her to turn back and have another look.
By the time the sixth day comes around, I’m spent. Having worked endlessly to get fences mended all day. Thomas, my neighbor, stops by with a case of ale. I’m grateful Brodie is tucked away in bed as I don’t want rumors to start flying, not yet. When he sees Elsie, he raises a brow. “Are you the cook?” he asks.
She smiles, her eyes finding mine. “Probably the worst cook this county has ever seen.”
Thomas and I head outside and have a few beers. Later, I come inside, and Elsie is lying on the couch, drinking peppermint tea and reading a novel.
“You’re up late,” I say, doing my best to look in her eyes and not look at her body in that nightgown. Curves and skin and damn, she has no idea how it’s driving me crazy to have a woman like her in my house.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Did Thomas and I keep you up? Were we too loud outside?”
She shakes her head. “No, I liked hearing you laugh.”
I lift my eyes.
“Sorry if that sounds weird... just, you’re so quiet.”
I nod. “Aye, I don’t say much, but when I say something, I mean it.”
“I like that,” she says, shutting her book and standing. “You ready for bed?”
My body tenses - does she want to go to bed with me? Because it’s all I’ve been thinking about for six days straight.
But then she covers her yawn with a hand. “Well, I’ll be off. Brodie will be up soon enough.”
And she walks upstairs, her hips swaying, my cock aching.
I can’t sleep at all - but it’s not her smile, laugh, or easy-going attitude that keeps me up.
It’s the way her arse looked as she climbed the stairs.
* * *
“How’s the nanny workin’ out?” Gregor asks as we walk across the moor, purple heather adding a touch of color to the green fields.
There’s nothing more beautiful than a Scottish moor on a summer’s day - except maybe Elsie Stewart.
It’s been a week since she arrived, and I half expect to wake up some mornings and find her gone. It’s all too good to be true. This sweet as sugar creature living in my house. The thought of her leaving makes my stomach twist, and not just because I need her to take care of Brodie.
Even covered in shite and mud, I’d known the woman was gorgeous the moment I’d laid eyes on her. But then she’d come downstairs, freshly bathed and wearing one of my oversized shirts, and I’d been done for.
When she’d arrived, her hair had been up, but freshly showered those long, dark strands fell halfway down her back, begging a man to tangle his fingers in. Those hazel eyes had lingered on mine, then roamed down my chest, and I’d seen the flash of desire there before she’d looked away.
There’s an innocence about her and a quiet strength. But when she speaks, it’s clear we’re from two very different worlds. And I’ve seen the frustrated tears that she blinks away when she doesn’t know I’m watching her.
I’ve stayed out of her way for the most part. Leaving early in the morning and coming home late in the evening. I’ve got more than enough work to prepare the flock for auction next week, not to mention all the other chores to be done.
Gregor is staring at me, waiting for my answer.
“She’s workin’ out fine,” I mutter, clicking my tongue and giving a holler for one of the dogs to rein in a stray sheep. “Brodie seems to like her.”
Gregor chuckles. “I don’t blame him. The lassie is a bonnie one.”
“Careful, lad,” I warn, a sense of protectiveness, maybe even possessiveness washing over me. The girl is in my care. My responsibility. I’d already given McTavish an earful when I’d caught the man lurking around the house, trying to get a glimpse of her. “And you warn the other men to keep their distance.”
“Does that mean you’re claimin’ her?”
“She’s not a sheep to be claimed,” I say, even though it’s exactly what I want to do.
My balls haven’t ached this damn much since I hit puberty. Knowing the woman is sleeping in the room across the hall from me, has my cock stiffer than an iron poker day and night. Which is why I’ve kept my distance. I need a nanny right now, more than I need to bury myself in a woman’s soft body.
I stop and look up toward the main house where smoke drifts from the chimney and wince, hoping the lass isn’t trying to cook again. She may be good with the bairn, but she nearly burned down the house with her first attempt to use the stove.
Luckily, I’d been close to hear her shouts. After I’d put out the fire, and opened the windows to let out the smoke, she’d muttered a string of curses, speaking in riddles about someone named Ubereats, and how she would kill for something called a Caramel Cloud Macchiato.
“Take the flock to the east side of the hill,” I tell Gregor.
“Where are you going?” he asks, smirking.
“Just checkin’ on the bairn.”
“Are you sure that’s all you’re checkin’ on?” he teases.
I ignore him and make my way up the hill.
Thankfully there’s no smoke when I enter the house this time, but from the sound of a woman singing, I know the lass is in the kitchen.
Humming a song and swinging her hips, Elsie has her back to me as she stirs something in a large bowl. I’ve never seen the clothes she’s wearing, a pair of jeans that hug her perfect ass, and a soft, flowery top that shows an inch of skin on her lower back when she reaches for something on the top shelf.
My mouth waters and my cock instantly hardens. I have to remind myself that the woman is under my care, which means she is off limits. But the temptation to swoop her up in my arms, and crush my lips against her soft pink ones, is one I’m having a more difficult time controlling the longer she’s here.
But I’ve gone twenty-four years without experiencing the pleasure of a woman’s body, I can withstand the torture of keeping my distance from this one. Only, I’m starting to get the feeling that Elsie Stewart isn’t just any woman.
I clear my throat, and she lets out a small, startled squeak before turning, the wooden spoon raised like a weapon.
“Sorry, lass. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You’re...” She puts the spoon down and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “You’re home early today.”
“I thought I’d check on the bairn.”
“He’s sleeping.”
I raise a brow. “Already?”
“He’s adjusting well to the routine. Since he’s not napping in the afternoon, he’s been sleeping through the night.” She frowns. “If you want to spend time with him, maybe you can come home in the afternoon for an hour...” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You think I don’t want to spend time with him?”
“Well, you just...” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before saying, “You haven’t been around much. I know...Brodie would like to spend more time with you.”
The lass is scolding me in her own way. If it were anyone else, I’d give them a word or two about keeping to their own business. But I wonder if it isn’t just Brodie who wants to spend time with me.
“I’ll try to make it up to the house more often.” I move around the island, reaching past her to grab a carrot that’s on the cutting table, and when my arm brushes hers, I feel her tremble. Her eyes meet mine, and I can’t help the grin the tugs at my lips when I say, “For Brodie.”
“Right.” She licks her lips, then takes a step back, her cheeks filling with color. “Good.”
“I take it your luggage arrived,” I say, changing the subject.
&nbs
p; “What?” She’s obviously flustered. Glancing down at her outfit, she says, “Oh, yeah. They dropped it off this morning. You must have already been out...doing whatever you do at five o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m tending to my flock, lass.”
“Sheep?”
“Aye. The MacKinnon sheep have roamed these hills for centuries.”
“So you’ve lived here all your life? It’s just, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for awhile. In the house I mean.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I’d been staying in one of the smaller cottages until Brodie arrived.” I shrug. “Closer to the sheep and my men. I don’t need the luxuries here.”
“Luxuries?” Her eyes widen, then she coughs and looks away. “Sorry. I just...we grew up very different.”
“How so?” I lean against the counter, arms crossed, and I catch her gaze as it drifts over my biceps, pulling her eyes back to my face.
“I’m from Seattle,” she says as if that explains everything. “The city of Starbucks and wifi, and... I mean, do you even have a television?”
“They have one in town at the pub. I’ll go there if I want to catch a football game.”
“Right.” She chuckles, but the look she gives I can tell she’s taken aback.
“If it’s a telly you’re wanting, I can see about getting one. We wouldn’t get many channels, but—”
“No. I actually prefer to read than watch TV. I just wish there was a bookstore close by. I’ve already read through the novels I brought.”
“You can take any of the books in the library.”
“You have a library?” Her brows raise, and there’s a sparkle in her eyes.
“My mom homeschooled my sister and me, and she loved to read. There’s quite a collection, if you like the classics. I think my sister had a stash of those smutty romance books, if that’s more your thing.”
She laughs. “To tell you the truth, that’s the reason I’m here.”
“Because of smutty novels.”
“In a way.” Her cheeks turn pink and hell, looking at her all rosy makes my cock twitch. “I grew up reading Highlander romances,” she says. “You know, intriguing titles like The Highlander’s Sword, and Ravished by the Highlander.”
“So you came to Scotland looking for your own Highlander to ravish you?” I lean closer, the heat between us almost tangible. I know I should be stepping away, but the connection is like a magnet.
“I... uh...” Her tongue darts over her bottom lip. But then she steps back. “No. I just, after reading those books, I thought...I don’t know what I thought.”
“Are you homesick?”
“A little.”
I nod, reality settling back on me. The lass is only here for a short time. I might be a brute of a man, but I’ve prided myself on my values. The only woman this Highlander is going to ravish, is his wife.
“Come on. Let me show you the library.” I lead her to the east wing of the house, and pull out my keys, and unlock the door. The lights flicker and buzz for a moment when I turn them on.
Elsie gasps when I step aside and let her enter. “Wow. There are hundreds of books here.”
I move across the room and crouch to open a wooden box that had been Mollie’s. “Here’s where my sister kept her books. Take whatever you want.”
“You’re sure she won’t mind?”
The pain that I’ve pushed down, twists inside my chest. “No, lass, she won’t.”
Elsie doesn’t seem to notice my current mood, and I’m glad for it. She’s busy rummaging through Mollie’s books.
“I’ll leave you, then.” But in truth, it’s her who will leave me, and that’s the truth of the matter. Best I keep my distance, and not get too attached.
“Kier,” she says, standing, a book in her hand. She looks so fucking beautiful. “Thank you.”
I nod, then turn. Every muscle in my body is tense with pent up need as I walk upstairs toward the bathroom. I turn on the shower and strip out of my clothes before stepping under the warm stream of water.
Normally, I prefer bathing in the cold loch. And the warmth of the water rolling over my body only intensifies the ache in my balls. Every sensation, urging me to do what Gregor suggested earlier and lay claim to the woman.
I want her in a way that I’ve never wanted a woman before. Entirely.
Chapter Four
Elsie
I can hear Kier in the shower as I head back to the kitchen and finish preparing a potato salad and sandwiches from the leftovers I found in the fridge - which is a safe choice, considering I still haven’t figured out how to use the old wood burning oven.
This entire place is like stepping back in time. Who would have thought I’d be grateful for electricity and running water? But from the few conversations I’ve had with Kier, I wonder if it isn’t a novelty around these parts.
Every time I see Kier, my body warms. I’m not exactly shy... but then he comes around and I can barely speak. He is this silent mountain of a man who makes me flustered every time I see him.
And the other day, when I watched him undress from his muddy clothes, I nearly died. His chest a ladder of muscles, his legs strong, his hands big. I close my eyes, the things I can imagine him doing to me make me dizzy.
It’s not just Kier that makes this a dream job. Brodie is the most darling baby I’ve ever known. I may not have cell service, but I do use my phone for one thing - taking photos of Brodie. I’ve staged more photoshoots this past week than I’ve ever done in my life. Laying him on a blanket in the heathered meadows. Swaddled in his crib. I couldn’t resist placing him in a basket next to some sheep. I thought Kier would look through these photos with a smile.
Now, though, I place the sandwiches and salad in the fridge, then walk upstairs to check on Brodie, the book I’d taken from the library tucked under my arm.
The door creaks slightly when I open it, and I wince, praying that he doesn’t wake up. Brodie makes a small sound, but his eyes stay closed. I watch him for a few moments, my heart swelling with love for the child. It’s strange. I’ve watched dozens of children over the years, but from the moment Kier placed him in my arms, there was a connection.
He’s a beautiful baby, and I see a small resemblance to Kier. But he must take after his mother. I haven’t seen any pictures of her, so I wouldn’t know. In fact, there’s nothing in the house that even suggest she ever lived here, or that Kier was married.
I’ve no doubt there’s more to the story.
I place a blanket over Brodie, then tiptoe from the room. He should be down for the night, which means I have some time to myself.
A hot bath and a book sounds like the perfect combination.
But all I can think about is Kier, on the other side of the bathroom door, naked, water beading on his muscular chest, his hand around his thick shaft...
I moan and shake away the fantasy. He might be a sexy Highlander, but the man is my boss and off limits. Plus, he’s a widow.
Every time I’ve tried to bring up Brodie’s mom, he shuts down the conversation.
I guess it’s none of my business. I’m here to take care of the child, not be a therapist to a grieving father. Though, he doesn’t seem like a widower... but maybe he is stoic and quiet in his grief.
But I want to get inside his head, nonetheless.
Be honest with yourself, Elsie, what you want is to get in his bed.
I fling myself on the mattress and pull a pillow over my face, because it’s the truth. I do. Which is so not like me. God, I wish I could call Dina, Sofie, or Wendy right now, or even just text them. I need my friends’ advice.
“You know exactly what they’d say,” I grumble into the pillow. The desire for Kier is so out of bounds though - his wife just died. He doesn’t need me throwing myself at him.
Still, Dina would tell me to take what I want, Sofie would warn me to be careful, and Wendy would bake me one of her delicious pies and tell me to trust my heart.
The four of us made a pact when we were sixteen, when all the other girls our age were giving away their V-cards to any boy who smiled at them, that we wouldn’t have sex until we were certain the man in question was the one.
Looking back, it’s probably silly, but even though I’m twenty-two and still haven’t been kissed, I still believe in soul mates. In fate. In fairy tales.
Is Kier MacKinnon my one? Or am I just charmed by the man’s looks and the deep, warm brogue that makes my insides melt every time he opens his mouth.
Kiss him and find out.
I don’t know where the thought comes from, but I can imagine Dina saying it.
In the hall, the bathroom door opens, and then there’s the creaking of footsteps before another door shuts.
“Bath and book,” I say, standing and pulling out my shampoo and conditioner from my suitcase.
The bathroom is still filled with steam when I enter, and I can smell Kier, his rich, masculine scent. And I breathe him in, wishing I was taking in more than just his scent - taking all of him.
I start the bath and place my hand under the water adjusting the temperature until it’s perfect. Then I start to undress. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and run my hands over my breasts, watching the nipples harden at my touch. I close my eyes, imagining Kier’s large, calloused hands doing the same.
I whimper, my pussy clenching with need.
Maybe this whole saving myself for the one is a silly idea. What would be the harm of letting the man have his way with me? To experience the rough, powerful strokes of his cock.
The creak of footsteps outside the bathroom make me pause.
Oh god, can he hear me? Does he know that I want to touch myself thinking about him?
I need to get my thoughts together. I’m here to do a job. Nothing else.
The tub is half full, and I don’t hesitate to step in and sink into the...I yelp as the frigid water surrounds me. I jump out of the tub, just as the bathroom door flies open.
Kier stands there in a towel, slung low on his waist, and he looks ready to attack, but then his gaze drops to my body, and his eyes go dark with something much more dangerous.
Naughty Scot: Love Without Limits Page 2