
## **Contents**

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Author Note

Other Works

Excerpt of Any Scot of Mine

Quick Links

THE TROUBLE WITH KILTS

THE TROUBLE WITH KILTS

Copyright © 2013 by Kam McKellar

Excerpt of Any Scot of Mine Copyright © by Kam McKellar

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-0-9885225-4-1

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.

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Cover Images: 123rf Stock Photos

Chapter 1

"A bonny lass alone at the bar. Isn't right," Hamish said with a friendly smile as he took a seat and ordered a drink. "What's the world coming to?"

Riley shrugged, toasted his glass with her own, and then downed her third straight shot of whisky. "Beautiful wedding," she commented, watching the reception. It was winding down now, the bride and groom—her cousin Lucy and cousin-in-law Ian—having already left for their honeymoon.

"Aye, that it was," Hamish agreed. "Have never seen the chapel look like that before with all those white flowers and candles, the snow outside..."

It had been one of the most romantic, intimate weddings Riley had ever seen. Like a dream. The five-hundred-year-old MacLaren chapel, the groom and his two best men/brothers in honest-to-goodness kilts, the bride so pretty it made Riley cry before the wedding had even started.

Yeah, a dream. A wonderful freaking dream.

She was ecstatic for both of her cousins, amazed that Lucy and then Kate had gone to Scotland and found love. But weddings and happily-ever-after? Not in the cards for her. She was done. Her marriage was done, no matter how hard she'd fought to save it. Divorce papers had arrived the morning she'd left New York for Scotland. They were still in the envelope tucked in the bottom of her suitcase.

It was a failure that stung her soul, and one that fed the bitterness already growing inside her.

Hamish turned in his seat, resting his back against the bar to watch the small gathering in the Great Hall. "Suppose they're next." He gestured to Kate and Devin slow dancing along with a few other couples.

Riley smiled at the picture they presented. Kate looked amazing in the champagne-colored bridesmaid gown, her black hair setting off the color to perfection. And Devin, the broad-shouldered hunk, only had eyes for Kate. Their dogs, Hildie and Terry, lay by the massive hearth at the far end of the hall chewing on dog bones. "I wouldn't be surprised if they eloped. Kate's never one to do things the traditional way."

Hamish snorted, obviously finding the idea of elopement appalling. "Fran will have none of that."

A laugh escaped her. Fran and him both apparently.

Riley glanced over her shoulder and signaled to the bartender for another shot. She could feel Hamish's eyes on her and knew if she looked his way she'd see concern and, most likely, a frown peeking through that bushy red beard of his. So she avoided meeting his gaze and instead turned back to watch the reception.

"I know ye've suffered a nasty break, lass. But dinnae let it get ye down. Have some fun. Half the MacLaren clan turned out and a good lot of the American side too. And ye have ta admit, the lads here are a decent-looking lot."

She couldn't argue with that. There were several impressive men in attendance. Most in kilts. A few, she had to agree, were pretty damn attractive. There was a time in her life that being in Scotland, in a Scottish castle, among men in kilts would have made her inner romance-loving self squeal like a happy pig in a mud spa.

"I ken yer not in the market for a husband, but ye can still have a wee bit of fun. Get out there and dance." He flung his arm toward the reception, nearly choking on the sight of Grammy Lin squeezing the ass of a grinning old Scotsman as they danced. "Dear God."

"Oh, geez." Riley took her drink from the bar, downed it, and hopped off the stool. "Pretend you didn't see that. I swear, can't take her anywhere."

Hamish laughed. "I do like yer grandmother. She's got the right idea, and ole Fergus doesna seem ta mind."

"No," she paused, realizing. "He doesn't." This was, in fact, the happiest she'd seen her grandmother in a long, long time. And while it made Riley glad, it made the present difference in their emotional states all the more stark. "Think I'll get some fresh air."

"Take a coat, lass. Tis cold out there."

With a nod and a smile, she left the makeshift bar area, wondering if this was going to be her life. Single forever. Watching from the wings. Bitter. Unhappy. Companion to her grandmother. The two old spinsters. Maybe Hamish was right. Maybe she needed to let loose and have a little fun. God knew, she was well on her way to being drunk—and there was nothing like a rugged Highlander with a sexy accent to put her over the edge and make her forget her troubles.

Hell, Liam MacLaren had been trying to make a move on her all night. He was twenty-six, smoking hot, and completely shameless. She was seven years older, but it may as well have been a hundred. Her life experiences, the things she'd gone through made her feel tired and ancient.

She'd been separated from Mark since last summer, since begging Lucy to go to Balmorie Estate in her place so she could go to Aspen and try to work things out with her husband. Riley loved her job as a travel writer, but she'd loved Mark more. She'd taken a risk, convincing Lucy to go in her place. She could have gotten fired over it. And in the end, nothing had turned out the way she'd hoped. Mark had crushed her in Aspen, listing all her faults in the most minute detail, his voice sounding so disgusted with her, so hateful. The things he'd said had eviscerated her confidence, her worth. And then to drive the knife in further, he'd told her he'd found someone else, someone not her, someone perfect.

The only thing that had turned out as planned? The article she'd written for Balmorie's castle turned guest house was one of The Ambler's most popular to date. Lucy's photograph of the castle had even made the front cover of the magazine.

And Lucy had found love.

Almost seven months had gone by. And now here she was skirting around the enormous hall, through the conservatory, and out into the late November night. The bridesmaid dress offered little warmth—a strapless number with a fitted bodice, empire waist, and flowing knee-length chiffon skirt over satin. The champagne color went perfectly with the white and cream-colored candles and flowers that adorned the chapel. The dress had come with a faux fur shoulder wrap in white, which Riley had left lying across a chair in the hall. With the alcohol flowing through her veins and making her warm, she didn't need it.

The wide patio had been swept clear of snow, but she took her time, being careful in the strappy heels. It was quiet outside—the muted echoes of music from the hall seeming far away—and dark, the sky clear and black, the stars as bright as the moonlit snow. Riley had more than once reflected on how beautiful it was here, how she wished she could live in a place like this. It sure made the hustle and bustle of New York seem like another world. A world and life she was, maybe, getting tired of.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and stopped at the stone wall. While the alcohol helped to keep her warm, it also, unfortunately, made her emotional. And tonight, above all nights, she didn't want to cry. Not at her cousin's wedding.

Sniffling, she drew in an arctic breath and hugged herself tightly.

She was lonely. Lonely and confused and lost.

And she was tired of everyone being gentle and understanding with her, walking on eggshells. She appreciated their concern and thoughtfulness, but she was starting to feel like a charity case. Only James, Ian and Devin's younger brother, hadn't shown her any deferential treatment. Not that he was mean. He just didn't seem to care either way.

"Here, put this on."

Startled, she turned to find James pulling off his jacket.

She frowned. The last thing she wanted was to be in the presence of the gloriously hot and usually pissed-off veteran. James had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. According to Lucy and Kate, he hadn't always been this way. He'd been something of a wild child, the quick-witted, sarcastic, devil. The kind of man who could smile a certain way at a woman and lustful thoughts instantly filled her mind. He still had a wicked vibe surrounding him, but now it lacked the spark Lucy had told her about.

Couldn't blame him.

No one could.

Riley glanced down at the artificial limb and then away. The guy had stood up as one of Ian's best men, in a kilt with the slick-looking carbon fiber leg replacing what he'd lost below the knee. Riley couldn't begin to imagine what he'd gone through and how he struggled to re-adjust to life outside of the military and then to life as an amputee. He'd only been back at Balmorie for a month or so, having spent the last several back in the States recovering, going through therapy, and finally being fitted for his prosthetic. Shortly after Kate had fallen in love with Devin, word had reach the MacLarens that James had been wounded in combat. Both brothers had flown to Germany to be with James, and then Devin had accompanied him back to their mother's home in North Carolina, where they'd grown up.

From what Riley knew, the entire family had rallied around James.

And, apparently, according to what Lucy had told her, he'd become a different man.

James MacLaren radiated a hardness, even when he was smiling. There was an edge about him. A determination, a stubbornness. And every time Riley was around him, it made her uncomfortable. His energy, the sharp, accessing blue eyes—like two hot lasers that cut through anything and everything—made her blood pressure rise. She didn't like him. Didn't like the way he towered over her and filled wherever he was with an all-consuming presence.

When she didn't take the jacket, he put it around her shoulders. "You're welcome." His deep voice made goose bumps rise on her arms.

"Thanks," she replied tightly, wishing she was alone and that his jacket didn't smell so freaking good. How she missed the smell of a man... "What are you doing out here?"

He stared over the wall at the white landscape and the black loch beyond. "Same as you, I reckon." He tossed a glance back to the house, the windows glowing with warm light. "And escaping your Grammy Lin. She keeps asking me what's under my kilt."

"Oh God. Sorry about that. She, um, has a preoccupation with all things Scottish. Been dying to come here for as long as I can remember. All these men in plaid has her head spinning."

James rested both hands on the wall and bent over a little and Riley wondered if he was easing some pressure off his leg. His hands, she noticed, were big and strong, a few scars here and there. He bent his head for a moment and she saw the edge of a black tattoo on the back of his neck as the collar of his shirt was pulled downward.

As he straightened, she turned her attention back to the scenery and felt his gaze on settle on her with those laser-y eyes of his, making her feel more rattled than she'd been in a while. She wasn't real fond of being rattled and the feeling drew out the old Riley, the one who faced things head on. Emboldened, she met those blue eyes head on. "What?"

A slash of brown eyebrow lifted and one corner of his mouth twisted into a half-smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "You're not what I expected."

"How so?"

He shrugged, his voice devoid of emotion when he spoke. "All I've heard from your cousins is how tough you are, a force to be reckoned with, the fearsome leader of you three—"

Her hand shot up. "Let me stop you there." The action made her lose her balance briefly, that final shot hitting her. "Because I know where you're going with this. One, it's none of your damn business. And two, I'm down right now, but I'm not out. Okay, Mr. Happy Pants? Don't need you pointing out that I'm not myself. You're the last one who should."

"I am, huh?" he asked, mildly interested.

"Yeah, you are. I've heard all about you too—the way you used to be before the accident."

"It wasn't an accident. It was pretty fucking deliberate."

"You know what I mean." She shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it at his chest, and made for the door, muttering, "I'd rather be inside with all the annoying romantic people."

"Wait."

Fuming, she spun around. "What?"

He stared at her, the moment coming to a standstill. "Never mind."

Riley huffed, rolled her eyes, and marched into the house with all the dignity her wobbly heels would allow.

Chapter 2

Jamie watched Riley's departure. Head held high, she stumbled, let out a squeak, then righted herself, tossed another angry glare over her shoulder—like it was his fault she nearly fell—and then disappeared inside the conservatory.

Once she was gone, he released a pent up breath. From the first moment he met her eight days ago, the tension had started. Whenever she was in the same room, whenever they spoke, which was brief, he tensed up as though he was bracing for something that never came. Riley Brooks packed one hell of a wallop, and she had the sexiest bedroom eyes he'd ever seen.

So why the hell had he called her out?

She was right. He was the last person on Earth who had a right to. Hell, he didn't know who he was anymore, so bringing up the fact that she wasn't herself had been hypocritical to say the least.

He turned back to the wall, braced his hands against it, and let out a slow breath. Maybe he gave her a hard time because she was a reflection of himself, like looking into the mirror. It pissed him off to see her so quiet and meek—not that he'd known her before, but the stories her cousins told had made him choke on his drink more than a few times. She wasn't the person he'd expected to meet. She wasn't the same after having her heart blown to smithereens.

And neither was he.

Weird thing was, he was disappointed. He'd been, surprisingly enough, looking forward to meeting Riley and had somehow convinced himself she'd provide some distraction and fun. Putting that kind of responsibility on her wasn't fair. Having any type of expectations at all wasn't fair. And weirder still, he wanted to help her.

It sure as hell wasn't his responsibility, but it was easier to contemplate fixing someone else, than to face fixing himself.

The skin and muscle below his knee ached, the cold seeping in. The fact that he'd been on his feet for hours hadn't helped. He could use a drink to take the edge off. But he'd kept the drinking to a minimum today. The last thing he wanted was to get drunk and fall in front of everyone—a horror he'd gladly avoid. No, he saved the drinking for when he was alone, when no one would see him fall, or throw shit at the wall, or stare below his knee at the leg that should have been there, that felt like it was still there.

With another heavy breath, he pushed away from the wall and headed inside to say his goodbyes. He was done for the night.

The conservatory was warm and dark, only a small table lamp near the wide doors that led into the hall. As he crossed the floor, he heard a thud and a soft curse. He stared into the large room that housed a multitude of plants and small trees in pots, and spied a high heel poking out from behind a potted ficus. He approached, coming around the tree and finding Riley lounging in a chair in that amazing dress. Her knees were angled together, her trim calves turned outward and her ankles and toes turned inward. One arm hung over the chair, the other over her head. The breath went out of him. She looked like some pin-up with the hem of the dress riding up her thighs and her hair coming loose from the pile on top of her head.

James swallowed and tried to shake off the sudden, swift rise of attraction. He'd seen her almost every day for eight days now, and during that time, yeah, he'd noticed her—hard not to with all that wavy dark copper hair and those big bedroom eyes, long lashes, and a mouth that turned up smartly at the corners—but he never let himself go there. She had dimples when she smiled, too. But she only seemed to do that when she was with Kate and Lucy, and sometimes Hamish and Fran. Never with him. He was surprised to realize that it bothered him.

"Thought you wanted to be among the romantic people," he said.

Fiery brown eyes opened and a flat expression appeared on her face.

"At least the music is good," he offered as a soulful Highland tune echoed into the room.

She stared up at him for a good, long moment. And, yeah, he supposed he deserved the suspicious look, the scowl, and the guarded tension in her body.

Finally she sat up, leaned forward, and rubbed under the ankle strap of her heel, giving him an unmitigated view of her cleavage. His pulse leapt. The neck of his shirt felt tight, and he pulled at it, clearing his throat.

"What do you want, James?" she asked tiredly.

"Jamie," he corrected. He plowed his fingers through his hair, let out a deep sigh, and then held out his hand. She looked at it like it was a snake. He frowned. "I'm trying to make amends, Riley. We've both had a rough time of it. Shouldn't have called you on it. Not sure why I did. Hey, misery loves company right?" Christ, that sounded lame.

Not happy about it, she slid her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet.

Once she was up, her warm hand in his, standing awfully close and looking at him with those eyes, he didn't want to let go. Not yet. It had been so long since he'd felt good things like this—warmth, softness, the sweet scent of a woman. Feeling like he had nothing to lose, he tugged her hand, pulling her against him.

"Look," she began to argue.

"Just dance with me, Riley." He slipped his free hand around her waist and with the other, pulled her hand up to his chest and held it over his heart. "It's been a while."

She was stiff as a board and it made him smile. He had to admit, he liked getting under skin and throwing her for a loop. It gave him a jolt, a sense of pleasure. It was the little things in life. And it struck him that those were thoughts and feelings the old Jamie would have had. Maybe he hadn't lost as much of himself as he thought he had.

Okay. This was not good. Standing up against James—Jamie—was risky business. She'd been trying to avoid all contact since she'd met him. Of course, being that they were both in the wedding, she'd seen him for nearly every meal and excursion for the last eight days. Eight days of trying not to stare at that face... Eight days of avoiding the small little fantasies that tried to wiggle their way into her brain.

He smelled way too good, so good it made her want to put her mouth on his neck and see if he tasted as good as he smelled. He was tall and sexy and tormented. And so hot it'd take very little effort to light her world on fire. A lethal combination, one Riley knew she should avoid. She had a terrible track record with bad boys. With Mark, though, she'd finally beat her weakness. Mark was refined, professional, and his manners were impeccable—well, accept the whole cheating thing. In that respect his manners sucked.

Jamie bent his head. "You're thinking too hard, New York."

His warm breath on her neck sent shivers skittering along her skin and butterflies loose in her stomach.

Not attracted to Jamie. Not. Attracted. To. Jamie.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she blurted, leaning back to look at him. The way his brown eyebrows angled over those blue eyes, gave him a predatory look, but the thick eye lashes softened it somehow—a wicked combination. She loved the way his stubble framed his full lips, the way it outlined his jaw, the way his eyes fixed on her with intensity. He was bad all right. And she was drunk. This could only spell trouble.

He rocked slowly to the music. Not really moving, just swaying. "We're just dancing, lass," he murmured, holding her tighter.

Her eyes rolled at the name, at the voice saying it, at the way her body practically sighed with pleasure. Thanks to all those romance novels she and her cousins had read, she was a sucker for hot men with accents, for warriors and heroes, for men who loved as hard as they fought. James MacLaren stood with her in a house whose foundations were over five hundred years old. Five hundred. And it had been in his family from the beginning. There were old portraits of his ancestors on the walls. They'd fought in battles for king and country. And James seemed to embody all of that and more.

A small voice inside her head tempted her to just go with it. She angled her head to look at him again. Why not? She was alone now. Single...

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, James stopped moving. Tension filled the space between them. The room grew hot, and her skin tingled with apprehension.

"You can't look at me like that," he said in a strangled tone. "Stop biting your lip for God's sake."

A flush spread through her body like lightning. Her breath went shallow. "Or what?" Part of her couldn't believe she'd said that, had put out the challenge. In fact, her entire face burned. Jamie wasn't the kind of man to back down from a challenge. He was the kind of man who rose to the occasion, and took challenge to a whole new level.

The way his eyes raked over her, with such potent lust, set fire to her insides. Oh boy.

She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted so badly, she had visions of shoving him down on the floor, ripping his clothes off, and climbing on top. It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol.

James cupped her jaw. Riley's heart pounded so hard she could barely hear the music anymore. She licked her lips. He groaned and moved in.

"Riley?" A very familiar masculine voice called from somewhere far off. "Riley, are you out here?"

Chapter 3

As soon as the voice echoed through the conservatory, Riley went ramrod straight and practically leapt out of his arms. Jamie noted the way the blood seemed to drain from her face, leaving her skin pale. Her eyes went round and stunned, and a little dumbfounded. She blinked and then swayed.

He stepped forward and caught her arm. "Whoa. Take it easy."

"Riley, there you are—"

A man drew up short by the potted tree, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. Jamie waited until Riley was steady and then let go of her arm. Kate ran in behind the man, out of breath, and looking shocked, though nowhere near as shocked as Riley. It didn't take much for him to figure out what was going on.

Riley's ex-husband had come calling.

And the bastard had bloody bad timing.

He knew he should excuse himself, but he didn't. He'd heard plenty about the crap Riley had been through and about the man who had ripped out her heart and handed it to her crushed and unwanted. No. He wasn't leaving her alone with this tool.

Dev came up behind Kate and also took stock. His eyes met Jamie's and his brow lifted in suspicion. Jamie mimicked the look back at his brother. None of Dev's business what he and Riley had been up to.

Jamie scrubbed a hand down his face, shaken by what had almost happened, the after-effects of the 'almost' kiss still lingering. And he planned to finish it, too. The ass who'd broken her heart could just hop back on a plane and fly the hell home.

"Riley?" Kate said with concern.

Riley blinked again, her gaze finally focusing. Not on Kate but on her ex. Her mouth went tight. Her shoulders went back. She shook her head as if to clear it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Everyone looked at Mark. He ignored them all but Riley. "I need to talk to you. Just give me a couple minutes of your time. That's all I'm asking. Please."

No. Don't do it. Boot his ass into the snow.

He knew by the way her shoulders slacked and her irritated exhale that she'd relented. He wasn't sure if her irritation was because of Mark or because she'd given into his plea. She marched forward, muttering, "Fine", grabbed Mark's arm, and pulled him away.

Jamie turned his attention to Kate. Her emotions ran high--anger, concern, fear all swimming in her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, opened her mouth, shut it, and shook her head. "I can't believe he's here."

"Is she all right alone with him?" Jamie asked.

"Mark isn't violent. He's just an ass who has the superhuman power of making Riley feel this small," she said, pinching her fingers together. "He's the only one I've ever seen who can do that to her. I swear if she lets him back into her life, I'm going to kill her."

A sour taste formed in the back of Jamie's throat. His fists clenched at this sides and a tight sensation spread across his chest. "Would she do that?" he asked.

"I hope not. Riley doesn't take crap from anyone. But Mark... When you love someone it's different," she tried to explain, her shoulder slumping. "That whole 'no one can hurt me without my permission' crap doesn't seem to apply when it involves the one person you give your heart and soul to, your trust to. That person can destroy you, you know?"

Kate leaned against a table by the wall, her eyes on Dev. They were glassy and round, making Dev move forward and pull her into a hug. "The right one would never take what's given and destroy it or belittle it," Dev said. "He's not the right one. Riley knows it. Whether she's admitted it yet or not, she knows it."

Surprise came over Jamie at his brother's words. Who knew Dev was so insightful?

Dev gave Jamie a look that warned him to keep his mouth shut, but Jamie was already feeling the brotherly ribbing coming on. "What? Did you just finish reading Dr. Phil because, damn it man, that was just beautiful."

Dev's jaw went slack. Then, his brother smiled, a smile that grew until the corners crinkled at Dev's eyes. "Welcome back, pip squeak."

Jamie rolled his eyes and snorted against the embarrassment creeping in. "It's not the first time I cracked a joke, man."

"First one since you've been back. In six months."

Had it been? He doubted that. "Yeah well, I've had a lot to deal with."

Dev shrugged and slipped his arms around Kate. "Do you think we should go find them?" Kate asked.

"Wouldn't hurt to know where they went and be around in case she needs us." Dev looked to Jamie. "You in?"

"Sure. If he gets out of line I'll just throw my leg at him."

Kate looked at Jamie as if he'd grown two heads. He sighed. Yeah. Apparently, he'd not been himself for a very long time.

Riley was shaking inside. The shock at seeing Mark completely obliterated her buzz. It was like she hadn't drank at all. Well, except the headache she felt coming on. Leave it to him to grace her with an instant hangover. Her heart was still pounding, though now it pounded for a reason other than the kilt-clad Scot in the conservatory. She'd gone from a near, sure to be volcanic kiss to being doused with a bucket of cold surprise.

Awesome.

Riley shoved Mark through the hall and into the formal living room. Thankfully it was empty of guests. Wanting it to stay that way, she pulled the heavy doors closed, turned, and then leaned against them. Her head shook in disbelief. Mark was here, standing in front of her, looking disheveled. His usually perfect hair was a mess. Dark shadows hovered beneath his red rimmed eyes. He needed a shave, too, though the stubble on him didn't look nearly as bad ass as it did on Jamie. She blinked, annoyingly putting that errant thought aside.

"I haven't slept in twenty-four hours," he said, shoving one hand into the front pocket of his pants. It was then Riley noticed he was wearing his work clothes. Dress pants and white dress shirt—the one with the gray pinstripes. The tie was long gone. There was a yellow stain on the shirt, and it was criss-crossed with wrinkles. He glanced down at himself. "Worked all day, then hopped a flight from Denver to New York, then New York to Glasgow, then charter flight to Inverness, and had to rent a car..."

"Why?" But she knew the answer. He wanted her back. The fact that he'd done all this, had come all this way, it blew her mind and confused her more than a little. What she wouldn't have given for him to have shown this kind of devotion before, when they could have saved their marriage.

Her hands gripped the doorknobs behind her. No one had ever done anything like this for her.

Riley released the knobs and smoothed her hands down the front of her gown. If there was a time for Mark to see her, she supposed it was the perfect time given the fact that she looked pretty damn stellar in the dress, shoes, and professionally done hair and make-up.

"I need you to sign the divorce papers, Riley."

Surely she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Marta and I are getting married. We need to get the papers signed and filed. I've been trying to call you. Repeatedly. God knows how long you're planning to stay here. Why didn't you just sign the papers before you left? Would that have been so difficult? Now I had to come all this way..."

His voice faded into the background. Something about them making an appointment to be married at the ultra exclusive Wincourt Club. If the papers weren't signed and filed immediately, so that the divorce would then be official in time for the date they'd set, they'd have to cancel and wait an entire year before getting another time slot at the club.

What the hell?

Riley shook her head. She couldn't focus. Pain radiated across her chest.

All this way, he'd come. All this way for Marta. For Marta. The six foot tall Swede.

God. Just . . .

"Riley. Riley are you even listening to me?" Mark plopped down in one of the old wing back chairs, muttering about getting a drink.

"Are you out of your mind?" she finally found her voice, shaky albeit.

Red mottled his cheeks. "Yes. I am. I'm out of mind in love with Marta. I'd do anything for her. And there was no way we could know if you'd ever pick up the phone, if you'd respond at all. The only way to make sure you'd sign, so the papers could be filed immediately was to come here myself. So I'm here, Riley. Your assistant said you got the papers when you stopped by the office before your flight. She said you would've had to have taken them with you. Please tell me she was right."

"Yeah. She was."

"Good. If you can sign them, I'll take them back with me and record them." He glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "This a hotel? Maybe I can get a room and head out first thing tomorrow."

"Are you even sorry?" she asked.

"Sorry for what?"

She practically choked on that. "Cheating on me, Mark. Breaking me. Hurting another human being."

He frowned and she wondered why she ever thought he was the one. "I can't help that I met Marta. I fell in love. What would you have me do?"

"Oh gee, I don't know, be a man about it? Talk to me first before you started up with her? And now you come all this way to throw it in my face, what you're willing to do for her?" Her voice had risen, but she didn't care. All the old hurts had come roaring back. The injustice of it stung and made her gasp for air. Tears clouded her vision. She laughed. "What was I thinking?"

The door opened behind her. Kate came in. "Everything all right?"

Devin and Jamie came in behind Kate like two bouncers waiting for the word to throw Mark out on his ass. But the last thing she wanted was an audience. She was humiliated enough already. "Everything is fine," she said between gritted teeth. "Stay here, Mark. I'll get the papers and then you can find somewhere else to stay because it won't be here."

Chapter 4

Riley hurried up the stairs to her room. Hands shaking, she flung items from her suitcase until she found the stupid papers. As she held them, the hurt became too much. She sat on the floor, the pretty chiffon skirt poofing out all around her.

"Oh, Riley," Kate's voice came as her cousin entered the room and sat down beside her. "I'm so sorry."

She held onto tightly as Kate hugged her.

"I don't even know why I'm crying," she said several minutes later, leaning away from Kate and wiping her eyes. "How could I have ever loved him? It's embarrassing."

"No it's not. You just wanted to be loved. And you tried, Ri, you really tried. He just—" Kate handed her a tissue from the bedside table.

"He just what?"

"He wasn't the one. The only person who couldn't see it was you," she said in the gentlest way possible.

"Well why the hell didn't you say something?"

"I did. We all did."

"Oh. Yeah. I suppose you did..." She just hadn't listened; hadn't wanted to. With a heavy sigh, she rested her back against the side of the bed. "Lucy was so pretty tonight wasn't she?"

Tears sprung to Kate eyes and she smiled. "And happy. The way they looked at each other..."

"Did we look like that? Mark and I?" Kate's mouth opened and closed. Riley had to laugh. "Nevermind. It was more like a mutually beneficial business relationship with status and sex thrown in." She shook her head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

The door burst open and Grammy Lin swept inside, her face lined with worry. "Oh you poor girl," she said hurrying over, gathering her long skirts and slowly sitting herself down on the floor next to Riley. "Come give your Gram a hug." She was already pulling Riley into her arms.

"It's okay. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Gram held Riley back after a hard hug, her eyes going narrow and shrewd, her brow lifted high. "You girls were never able to bullshit your way around me."

"Unfortunately true," Kate said wryly.

"That man has some nerve." Gram huffed with indignation. "Coming here, ruining your night, our night. I just want to bury him to his neck in snow and throw haggis at him."

Riley and Kate burst out laughing. "Please, let's do that," Kate said. "Then I'd set the dogs loose on him to clean the mess up."

Love filled Riley's heart as she listened to Gram and Kate going on about torturing Mark in inventive Scottish ways. They were behind her one hundred percent. They always were. Even when she was off trying to make it as a writer, even as she fell into life with Mark and let his world of social standing change her, they'd stood by her.

"I love you guys," she said, making them both silent for a moment before they swamped her with hugs and tears and laughter.

As they changed out of their bridesmaid gowns, Gram went downstairs to give Fergus her phone number. Riley left her hair pinned up, but changed into jeans, fur-lined boots, and a soft hoodie before joining Kate by the dresser.

She signed her divorce papers, slid them into the envelope, and gave Kate a wry smile. "Let's get this over with."

Kate squeezed her shoulder. "You're the strongest person I know. One day you'll meet someone, someone with a deep sense of right and wrong, with honor and loyalty, whose word means the world to him."

Riley rolled her eyes. "I think I'm good. One marriage was enough."

"Please." Kate scoffed as they left the room. "Like you said, that wasn't a marriage. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. You're still due your one and only."

She stopped at the top of the stairs. "How did you know, Kate? With Devin I mean."

Kate paused and turned, her hand on the railing. "He stole my breath. At every turn. And it was the little things. The things he didn't realize he did that showed me what kind of man he is, that he was worth the risk."

The night seemed to be a showplace for love and marriage. One new, one broken beyond repair. And one about to happen if Kate and Devin were any indication. "He looks at you like that," Riley said, making Kate stop again with a question in her eyes. "The way Ian looked at Lucy today. Devin. He looks at you like that."

Kate stared up at her with the dopiest look on her face that Riley had to laugh. "And, yeah, you look at him the same way," she said passing her cousin on the stairs. "All this love in the air is going to give me indigestion."

Kate laughed behind her, quickly catching up. "I don't know. Maybe it'll rub off on you," she said, eyes going right for Jamie as he stood in the hallway with Devin.

She leaned close to Kate. "Don't even think about it." The secret smile spreading across Kate's face made Riley concerned. "I'm serious, Kate."

"What? I'm not talking about Jamie. No. He's all wrong for you."

"Really."

"Well, look at him. He's too . . . much."

Riley snorted and bumped Kate with her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "The trick to reverse psychology is not to be so obvious about it."

They found Mark in the Great Hall, eating. Jamie and Devin followed her in and were joined by Liam, Liam's older brother Ross, and two of their American cousins. Word had obviously gotten out. And Mark was oblivious.

Riley couldn't help but compare Mark to Jamie and the rest of the men in the room. There was no comparison, really. Mark was tall and built nicely, but he was missing the raw aura of masculinity that surrounded the others. Would Mark take care of his own at any cost? Maybe. Maybe Marta brought that out in him. Maybe love was all it took. But Jamie and Devin, they didn't need love to risk life and limb for others. They had strength and honor in spades. Something Riley was pretty sure Mark lacked—in spades.

Riley stopped in front of her ex and held out the envelope. It felt momentous to her—sad and utterly heartbreaking. She was physically handing over the final tie that bound them, all the hopes and dreams she once had gone. Just gone. It hurt, but at the same time a sense of anticipation gripped her. She could start over. A fresh start. A new direction. She wouldn't make the same mistakes twice.

Mark took the envelope and for a moment his eyes turned grateful and sad, almost apologetic. But the expression passed as quickly as it had come. "Thank you."

An awkward silence descended, accentuated by the laughter and music coming from the reception.

Mark cleared his throat. "Looks like I missed a wedding."

"Lucy's wedding," Riley said.

"No kidding." The half smile on his face looked genuine. "Good for her."

"Yeah. She married one of them," Riley said, gesturing toward the MacLarens who stood there with arms crossed over their chests, feet apart, looking like Scottish warriors of old in their kilts and dress shirts.

"Riley..." Mark began. "I want you to know with Marta . . . I'm sorry. Neither one of us could control it, or ourselves. It's too strong, too—"

"Thanks. Really. I get it." Anger rose in her chest. Only Mark could roll an apology and an insult together. They'd certainly never experienced anything that 'out of control'...

Whatever.

She was done. She couldn't stand another second around him or another second at the reception. Overwhelmed and needing to get out, she marched to the bar and went behind it, swiping a bottle of whisky, wanting to smash something. Wanting to bash the bottle over her ex's head.

And she wasn't about to go hide in her room. She just needed out.

Leaving the bar, she passed Jamie and said, "Get me out of here."

He fell in step beside her. She could feel Kate and Devin staring at her back, but she didn't care, she just lifted the bottle up in a wave.

"Where to?" he asked quietly as they crossed the hall and neared the main door.

She turned the knob. "Anywhere but here." She faced him and pushed open the door with her rear end.

And came face to face with a blizzard.

Chapter 5

"Shit," Jamie murmured as they stood under the eaves, the cold biting at his skin. He could barely see his truck in the heavy snowfall. "Looks like our options are limited."

She turned to him with a challenging look. Anger radiated from her, a sense of recklessness he was all too familiar with. "You have four wheel drive don't you?"

"Aye. You want to go for a drive," he said, not lost on the irony—usually he wasn't the voice of reason. "In this?"

"Where's your truck?" Her breath made a cloud in front of her. He pointed. She took a swig from the bottle. "Awesome," she muttered and headed out into the snow.

Jamie shook his head. Apparently, she was in charge. And after what she'd just gone through, he wasn't going to be the wrench in her rash plans. He ducked his head and followed, pulling his keys from his coat and hitting the unlock button. The cab lit up, making it easier for Riley to find. She was in, with the door shut, by the time he got there.

Once the motor was running and the heater on, he turned to her, not sure how to voice what was going through his head without sounding like an ass. But he didn't want to be her one-night stand, her sexual distraction. Which, given his history, was also ironic. The night was just full of ironies.

Riley turned suddenly and eyed him shrewdly. "Here's the deal, MacLaren. We're not sleeping together. I'm going to get drunk and I'm not doing it back there. I don't want Kate feeling sorry for me. Don't want to deal with my grandmother. And I don't want to be the pathetic girl who goes to her room and drinks alone." Something he did quite often so her words stung a little. Was he that pathetic? "You're my option," she went on, making him feel like chopped liver. "You won't feel sorry for me or patronize me or coddle me. You don't talk a lot so that's good. Misery loves company, isn't that what you said?"

He winced. Aye. He had said that, hadn't he? He put the truck in reverse, slid his arm over the back of the seat, and glanced over his shoulder through the back window. "This should be a fun night," he said in a dry tone.

Riley made face at him. "Shut it and drive."

Jamie took it slow, his truck easily navigating the snowy road to his farmhouse. By morning, however, he wasn't sure they'd be going anywhere.

Riley took another drink and then leaned forward and messed with the heater. "Doesn't seem to be working. It's freezing in here."

"Been meaning to have it looked at."

She stared at him, then down at his lap for an uncomfortably long moment. "So what do you have under there anyway?"

Laughter barked from his lips. Was she serious? Her raised brow told him she was and she was waiting for an answer. "You're not cold?" she asked.

He'd never admit it if he was. Which he wasn't. "My junk is fine, thanks," he said with an eye roll.

Riley laughed and sat back in the seat, seeming to let go of some of her anger. "So is mine."

Jamie nearly choked. He glanced over and met with sparkling eyes and a wicked grin.

"That's the trouble with kilts," he said without any conviction whatsoever. "All the ladies checking you out, wondering..."

"Yeah. I'm sure it's horrible. I'd lay money you've used it to your advantage more than once."

"Plenty of times, New York. Plenty of times."

After he drove down the driveway to the farmhouse and parked near the front door, Riley handed him the bottle. "Here. Since we made it safe and sound."

He took the bottle and drank. The alcohol stung his throat, but warmth spread in its wake, traveling down into this chest. Riley hopped from the truck and entered the house without waiting for him. He stood there for a second in the snow, wondering how the hell this was supposed to go and just knowing he was in for a memorable night.

Riley ended up on the couch, legs tucked under her while he removed his dress shirt, leaving his T-shirt underneath, and then built a fire in the massive stone fireplace. He loved the old house, had ever since he was a boy. When his grandfather had died and left them the estate, Jamie and Devin had no trouble with Ian taking the castle—he was the oldest after all. Jamie had his sights on the farmhouse, and Devin had always loved the old lodge by the creek.

Once the fire was lit, he sat on the opposite end of the couch in the corner so he could face Riley. He had no TV, no games, and nothing to offer, except food and booze. Both of which, she'd already helped herself to, currently digging into a bag of shortbread cookies.

"You'll bounce back you know," he finally said without a doubt.

"I'll have to." She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes going to his arm over the couch and the tattoo that had been revealed as the T-shirt sleeve was stretched up. She glanced away. "What about you? You bouncing back?"

He reached for the bottle and took a drink. "Wouldn't say I'm bouncing back. More like limping." Bad joke. But he couldn't seem to help himself. With a sigh, he dragged his fingers through his hair and gave Riley a helpless look. "Forget I said that. Out of practice with the ladies."

She snorted. "I'd hate to see you when you're in top form."

"A force of nature," he said with a confident smile.

Her gaze raked him with appreciation. "I'll bet. So no one since you've been back?"

"I thought you wanted to come with me because I didn't talk much."

"Changed my mind. So?"

"No one since I've been back. What about you?"

"No one since I've been in Scotland." She leaned her side against the back cushions like him so that she could face him. Her arm rested on the back, and her hand played in her hair, twirling a strand around her finger.

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Fine. No one since Mark. I'm sure there are plenty lassies around here. So what's stopping you?" She took another drink. "Is it your leg?" she asked with concern.

She was pretty matter-of-fact, pretty nosey, but he didn't mind her question at all. His occupational therapist and prosthetist had said on more than a few occasions that talking about his injury and being upfront about it would help not only him, but it would help others be more comfortable, alleviating some of the confusion they might feel—should they not mention it, should they make light of it, should they offer help...

Jamie rested his head in his hand. Could be the alcohol talking. Or could be more. But tonight, it felt like he could lay bare his true thoughts. They shared a common thread. They were both hurting, both had suffered, albeit differently, but still. Hurt was hurt. Pain was pain.

"Haven't really had any offers. But if I did and turned a woman down, it wouldn't be because of my leg," he answered honestly. "And if a lass wants me, she'll have to want me for what I do have and not what I'm missing. That's on her, not me." He had thought about it, how it'd be. Thank God he still had his knee, could still kneel, brace himself over a woman and—

Jamie stopped that train of thought since the woman under him, in his sudden fantasy, was Riley. He cleared his throat. Nice lass that she was, Riley handed him the bottle. "Thanks." Her cheeks were flushed and it made him wonder if she'd been thinking about the same thing. He decided to test that theory.

"Would you have a problem with this?" he asked, curious, gesturing to his leg. "Being with an amputee?"

She eyed his leg for a long moment. Usually people looked away, like being caught looking at something they shouldn't. Usually they avoided the subject and never spoke about it, or asked about. Sometimes he wished they'd just ask, just speak their mind. Like Riley was doing now.

"It'd depend on the guy I guess," she said, meeting his gaze.

The fire spit and cracked in the ensuing silence.

"You're doing okay though?" she asked quietly after a while and he was struck by the genuine concern in her voice. Her tone and the look in her eyes, so big and hopeful, made his chest hurt. She really wanted him to be okay. Somehow, it made him feel guilty for all the shit he was putting himself through, the drinking, the depression, the way he'd pulled back from his family.

"Aye, New York. I'm doing okay." He leaned over, feeling a little nervous for the first time in ages, and knowing he'd have to do this in front of a woman sooner or later. Might as well rip the proverbial Band-Aid off now. He removed his leg from the socket, and placed the limb on the floor, then rubbed his knee through the liner he wore, kneading the flesh and the sore muscles. He never in a million years thought he'd be sitting here with Riley Brooks and doing something so personal. "Some days, harder than others. The new leg fits better, the foot has more flexibility."

"Saw all the bottles in your kitchen." She bit her lip and he could tell she was wondering if she'd gone too far.

He shrugged. "Been pissed off. Drowning out the memories, dulling the pain." He gestured to the bottle in her hand. "Same as you."

"Must have been hard in the beginning. You must be happy to be back here on the estate with your brothers."

Happy in ways. Pissed in others, as the bottles in the kitchen attested. "Was supposed to come back and work the farm," he said trying to keep the edge from his voice. "But now it's slow going." Total understatement.

"You'll bounce back," she said, and he had to smile at her turning those words around on him. "I've seen guys who run, kayak, mountain climb, do all sorts of things. It's just a matter of time. Then you'll be milking cows and baling hay or whatever it is you do," she waved a hand.

"Baling hay, aye. Raising cattle and sheep. But milking a hairy coo, no."

Riley laughed at his Scottish accent. "Yeah. Can't quite imagine you sitting on a bucket doing that."

"Oh, I've done it. Plenty."

Riley nodded thoughtfully. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"Thanks. Knew the risks going in. They say one day it'll be a source of pride. For now my biggest challenge is navigating the shower." At her wince, he explained, "That was a joke. Sort of. Have a no slip liner and a bar to hold on to. Learned my lesson."

She laughed. "I'll bet."

"Same goes, by the way." He was sorry about what had happened to her too. He'd never been betrayed like that. He'd never given his heart, so he'd been safe, and he hoped to hell he never found out. He could only imagine would it would do to Ian if Lucy ever broke him like that. His brother wouldn't survive it.

"Part of me wishes I never met him," Riley admitted.

"And the other part?"

"I don't know. Now I have something to measure it against, I guess. I thought I understood love, what it felt like, what it was..." she shook her head, frowning. "I'm not sure I ever really knew. I mean I loved him. But it wasn't like it is with my cousins."

"Lucky sons of bitches, my brothers," he said saluting her with the cookie he'd taken from the bag.

Riley grunted in agreement, then let out a hefty yawn. It had been a long day and night. He felt an affection for her he hadn't expected to feel, a camaraderie. Tonight they'd broken some kind of barrier and found a connection, an intimacy that was new to him.

Jamie set the cookie bag on the coffee table and decided to take a chance. She'd either laugh at him or shoot him down. He lifted his arm off the back of the couch and beckoned her. "Come here, lass."

She didn't hesitate, and it gave him an amazing amount of satisfaction. It felt good and right as she crawled over the cushions and tucked herself up under his arm, laying her head on his chest. "You're an okay guy, Jamie MacLaren."

He scooted farther down into the corner of the couch and brought his leg up so that they could both recline. "Just don't tell anybody," he said, smoothing back her hair and kissing the top of her head.

Chapter 6

The next morning Riley woke with a dull headache, her arms around Jamie, her leg thrown over him, her body pressed between his side and the crease of the couch. The fire had died sometime during the night, but the big Scot radiated so much heat it didn't matter. Her hand lay flat over his abs, the cotton T-shirt he wore doing little to hide the fact that the body beneath was rock hard. She lifted her head from his shoulder and glanced down.

Oh.

His kilt had ridden up in the night, revealing muscular thighs and the edge of black boxer briefs. She had to smile. Guess he didn't go commando after all. Didn't surprise her. He was turning out to be a sensible guy. She had a love of kilts before, but Jamie MacLaren in a kilt took that love to a different level entirely. He'd said the things were trouble, albeit jokingly, but he couldn't have known how right he was. Her leg pressed against the juncture of his thighs and she felt an unmistakable bulge warm against her knee. The way he was splayed, legs apart, one arm thrown over his forehead, the other wrapped around her back, made her heart begin a hard, heavy beat. She didn't want to move. He smelled so nice, was so warm, she just wanted to stay like this all day. Hidden from the snow and personal drama.

Riley put her head back down, closed her eyes, and just let herself enjoy the moment. Who knew how long it'd be before she found a man to snuggle with, a man who made her feel safe, and at ease. She wondered what it would be like to wake up like this every day, held tightly, connected. Mark never cuddled. Sometimes they did, after sex. But they sure as hell never woke like this. She wanted that. Wanted to find someone who wanted to be connected to her even in sleep.

Sleep wasn't coming back to her, though. And soon she'd have to rise and face Jamie. He'd surprised her last night. Being open, humoring her as she drunkenly invaded his home and asked one inappropriate question after another.

"Morning, lass."

Butterflies bombarded her stomach at his sleep-roughened voice. She lifted her head and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, but there was a faint quirk to the left corner of his mouth. A sigh wanted to purr out of her, but she held it back. The man was too good-looking for his own good. "Good morning," she replied.

He cracked one eye open, squinting against the white light pouring in from the front window. He removed his forearm from his forehead and rubbed his jaw. She couldn't help but notice the way his bicep flexed nor could she ignore the military tattoos.

She didn't need to notice anymore. Enough was enough.

Pushing up, she carefully extracted herself from his warm body. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and then plowing a hand through his hair. He grabbed his artificial leg, adjusted the liner he wore over his skin and attached the leg. After that was done, his arms stretched high over his head and he twisted his back left to right.

Dear Lord.

Annoyed with herself, Riley straightened her clothes and stepped to the bright window. She needed sunglasses to look at all that snow. It covered everything. But it had stopped snowing at least, and the sun was out. Hopefully it'd melt soon so Mark would be able to leave the country.

Jamie joined her at the window. "Bloody lot of snow, that," he muttered.

"Your accent is heavier."

He scratched his jaw and smiled. "Give it another six months and ye willna ken I was raised in the States."

The thick Scottish brogue rolled over her, making her stomach flip and bringing a goofy smile to her face. "That's pretty impressive. I had a thing for Scottish accents when I was younger."

Why did she say that? She resisted the urge to slap herself on the forehead. Truth was she had a thing for all things Celtic and all things Scottish ever since reading Grammy Lin's treasured copy of Highlander's Harlot at the tender, and impressionable, age of thirteen.

Jamie faced her. "Used to, huh." Yeah. He totally wasn't buying it. "So what if I talk to ye all day like this, lass? I ken ye like it. Can see in it yer bonny eyes."

"Oh my God." Riley shoved his shoulder and rolled her eyes. He didn't budge. "You're ridiculous." And so freaking hot, she should really throw open the front door and dive head first into the snow. This version of Jamie was cause for concern. She could deal with the solemn Jamie, the one who watched and rarely interacted. But this one? This one was a big red danger sign.

Jamie reached out and poked her sides, making her jump away with a scream.

He moved past her. "Hang tight, New York. And I'll make ye some porridge, toast, and bangers. I think I have bangers," he muttered, disappearing into the kitchen.

Riley stood by the window for a long while. Being here with him, in the morning after the night they shared, felt a little awkward and yet comfortable at the same time, though how that was possible she didn't know. Maybe she should just enjoy herself and not read too much into it.

Determined to go with the flow, she went into the kitchen to find Jamie standing there in his kilt, his feet braced apart and his hands on his hips. A sigh blew threw her. He glanced over his shoulder and she came around to see whatever had gotten his attention. "Oh, right. Your kitchen. It's a freaking train wreck, MacLaren."

"Aye. Needs a wrecking ball."

Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Empty whisky bottles sat on the counter-tops along with dirty glasses. The stove had become a placeholder for dirty pots and pans.

"Think we should make for Fran's kitchen?" he asked.

Mark's image sprung to mind. "No. We can tackle this, no problem." His eyebrows rose significantly. "Oh come on. Big bad Jamie MacLaren can't wash dishes?"

He made a face at her, let out a heavy huff, and approached the sink.

It gave her something to do, something to focus on, though she was very aware of Jamie next to her as they cleaned. They made idle conversation. Bantered a little. But the room grew quiet when Jamie grabbed a new trash bag and started throwing away the whisky bottles. The look on his face made her heart turn over. He was disappointed in himself, she could see it in the tight jaw, the sadness in his eyes, the frustration, and even a bit of embarrassment.

She knew from Lucy and Kate that Jamie had eased up on the drinking the last month or two after Devin and Ian intervened and had it out with him, an intervention that had resulted in a black eye for Ian, a bruised rib for Devin, and a bloody nose for Jamie.

Finally the kitchen was clean and Jamie set to work making her breakfast.

Riley used the time to freshen up in the bathroom, then she pulled on her boots, borrowed Jamie's coat and walked out into the winter wonderland. The air had a nice, clean bite to it. The snow crunched under her feet as she made her way around the stone farmhouse. There was a barn a few yards away with cattle gathered together, eating from a round bale of hay. On the other side of the barn three horses stood with their heads hung, dozing in the morning sun.

She breathed in deeply, the cold air freezing the insides of her nose, catching a whiff of Jamie from his coat as she pulled it tighter around her. She could like him. Really like him. But she wasn't ready. And he wasn't either. They both had too much healing to do. Even though she knew she was right, sadness still gripped her, and she felt loss for what might have been.

Jamie called her through an open window.

With one last look at the steep hills rising from the valley where she stood, Riley went back into the house and ate breakfast with Jamie. Her sadness lingered through the meal and continued after Jamie excused himself to shower and change while she offered to clean up.

Just as she finished wiping the counters, the sound of shutting doors from outside had Riley making her way to the front door. She was surprised her cousin hadn't arrived at the crack of dawn. She opened the door to find Kate bundled up like a kid with Devin next to her. Their dogs bounded around in the snow. "We wanted to make sure you guys had supplies," she explained, hefting a bag of groceries.

Riley continued to stare at Kate.

"Fine," her cousin finally admitted, "I was worried about you two, okay? Going off like that last night... What do you expect?"

"You to come calling this morning," Riley answered, holding the door wide for them as Devin chuckled at her comment, earning him Kate's elbow in his gut.

"Jamie is in the shower." She knew that would probably cause Kate's head to explode, but she wasn't explaining. Actually she was glad they were here. Riley took the grocery bag and put the items away as she listened to Dev's low down on the weather.

"Mark paid Liam MacLaren two hundred pounds to drive him to the airport. They left a little while ago."

"You think they'll make it?" Riley asked.

"Aye. Liam's truck is four-wheel drive and his tires have chains. He'll get to the airport."

Well that was one piece of drama she no longer had to worry about.

"Checking up on us already?" Jamie said as he came into the kitchen dressed in a long sleeve flannel shirt open to reveal a T-shirt underneath, and tan cargo pants. He grabbed Riley from behind and hugged her. "We fell in love. We'll be getting married at noon. Oh, and she's pregnant."

He released her with a wink and a smile that left Riley feeling a little off-center.

"Haha. Very funny," Kate said and then cast an odd, quick look at Devin, her cheeks turning pink. Riley's eyes went wide and goose bumps shot up her arms.

"Oh my God. You're pregnant."

"What?" Kate blurted. "No. I mean, yes, but..."

"Yes?" Riley squealed and wrapped her arms around Kate. Her heart pounded with happiness. Kate was having a baby! A beautiful little baby. Holy cow. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"This wasn't how we planned to tell everyone," Kate said, her voice muffled.

Jamie clapped Devin on the back and then pulled him into a hug. "Congrats, man." He straightened, a wide smile on his face. It went all the way to his eyes and brightened his entire face. Riley almost cried harder. "I'm gonna be an Uncle." He shook his head. "Hell."

Devin's smile was as blinding as the snow outside. Pride shone in his eyes. He pulled Kate close and slid his arms around her. "About three months along."

Riley made the quick calculations in her head. "So what? A May baby?"

"About the middle of May," Kate answered.

"That's only six months away." Stunned, Riley sat down. In six months there would be a tiny life brought into the world. She couldn't wait to love it. Hell, she already did. Amazing, that. "Gram is going to flip out. Have you told her?"

"Not yet. We were going to wait until Lucy got back and tell everyone together."

"Suppose we can tell your Gram since Riley knows," Devin said, glancing down at Kate with a questioning look. "And when Ian and Lucy get back, we'll hit them with the news."

Riley stood. "Let's do it now." Gram was seriously going to freak; she'd been after them to "make her some great grandbabies" forever, it seemed. As they filed out of the kitchen, Riley turned back to see Jamie standing there, leaning against the counter. "You coming?"

He gestured to the window. "Got morning chores. Animals to feed."

Her feet became rooted to the floor. Why did it suddenly feel like she was leaving for good, like it was over? Like something great had just sped past her and now was gone in a blink? "Go on," he said gently, as if reading her mind.

Riley swallowed, unable to form a reply, so she nodded and left.

Just left.

Chapter 7

Jamie let her go. He'd stood there earlier in the kitchen and let her walk out of his life. He was well aware that Riley was only here for ten days. Nine of which were already gone. He hadn't gone to the castle. He'd done the morning rounds and then had to fix a broken gate, bust ice out of three huge water tubs, and dick around with the old tractor to get it started in order to drive hay into the north field.

He wouldn't have gone anyway.

And he wasn't sure why. Fear was a good answer. Probably the right one.

But it was more than that. Staring death in the face tended to make one see the truth in things whether one wanted to or not. Had he not almost died, maybe he would've been slow coming to it or would've completely pushed it aside and refused to admit it to himself. But he could love that woman.

Hell what was he saying? He already did.

He hadn't even kissed her. The man who had kissed quite a few women, who his friends said would never settle down—and if he did, he'd take his damn time about it—loved a woman he hadn't even really touched.

Didn't matter.

As he finished unloading the last of the hay, he knew he'd have to wait. And he was okay with that. He had a lot to figure out and adjust to. He wanted to get the farm up and running the way it should be. He wanted to improve his gait. Hell, once winter ended he wanted to start jogging. He had a life to get in order before offering it to Riley. And who the hell knew if she'd even be interested in spending her life on a farm in the Highlands. Probably not her thing.

On the morning of her departure, Jamie sucked it up and went to Balmorie. As he drove up, she was standing by the front entrance with the rest of the family. Grammy Lin was hugging everyone, then she put her hands on Kate's belly and laughed. As he walked over, the old woman parked her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "Now where have you been hiding? Come here and give your Gram a hug goodbye."

Jamie smiled. He liked the crazy old broad. He grabbed her up and spun her around to her delight, hugged her tight, and placed a kiss on both cheeks. As she fanned herself and turned to the others, Jamie's gaze locked with Riley's.

She looked pretty with her hair up, her coat, scarf, and mittens nearly swallowing her. Her eyes looked resigned and sad. His heart pounded and the sour knot that had lurked in his gut since morning seemed to grow as he approached.

"You going to get your act together, MacLaren?" she asked quietly.

He smiled and scrubbed a hand down his jaw. "Aye. No more bottles. I'm bouncing back, New York."

"Good." Her eyes seemed a little glassy and her smile wavered. "Me too."

His heart shrunk into a tight ball. Damn it. "Guess next time I see you, will be in May when the baby comes."

She drew in a deep breath and tried to smile again. "Guess so."

Jamie leaned in and pulled her into a hug, closing his eyes and holding on tightly for a moment, not giving a damn what anyone thought about it. He held her back and looked down at her, looked right into her eyes. "In May." You and me.

"Yeah. Okay," she said, sniffling and wiping a mitten across her nose. "See you in May."

"This baby had better not be late," he added with a smile, then leaned over and kissed her forehead, using every ounce of willpower he had to keep from throwing her over his shoulder and taking her back home.

He stood next to Devin as Hamish drove off with Grammy Lin waving through the open window. Riley waved too, but it wasn't until they were about to turn the corner that she looked behind her, one last look. At him. It was only then that he released the breath he held.

"You okay?" Devin asked.

"I will be."

Chapter 8

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Riley was a nervous wreck. The last six months had flown by and during that time she was pretty sure she'd fallen in love with Jamie.

How could one fall in love with a man who wasn't even around?

She hadn't been able to sleep on the flight over, nor the night before. And she had no freaking idea what to do when she saw him.

It'd be awkward as hell.

And maybe once she did see him, things would change. Maybe she'd built him up so much in her mind that she was bound to be disappointed when they did come face to face. And come face to face they would. Little Piper MacLaren was home from the hospital and ready to receive visitors.

"Stop fidgeting. My God, what is wrong with you?" Grammy Lin said with a huff as they bounced along in the back seat of Ian's Rover. From the front passenger seat, Lucy glanced over her shoulder, a questioning look at Riley.

"I can't help it. We've been sitting for hours."

"And you've bitten your fingers nails down to nubs and your knee is bouncing a mile a minute. Do we need to stop for a potty break?"

Riley frowned at her grandmother. "No. I don't need a potty break. I'm fine." Gram shook her head, obviously not buying it. And Lucy was looking awful curious. "Really. I'm fine. Just want to get there. See the baby..."

Lucy's face instantly softened. "Wait til you see her. Prettiest baby I've ever seen. A head of black hair and big blue eyes. Devin is completely in love with her. He even cried."

"He's gonna love you spreading that around," Ian said.

"I don't think he cares. He's too immersed in all things baby. Besides, a full grown man crying over his child isn't a weakness. It's hot." Ian took his eyes off the road to give Lucy an incredulous look, which she ignored. "Oh, and you should see her with Jamie. She adores him. She doesn't cry much, but if she does and he's around? Forget about it. All he has to do is pick her up and she stares up at him in wonder. It's so cute."

Riley's chest went tight. She never asked about Jamie, but she savored every time he was mentioned over the last six months. She'd wanted so many times to talk to him, to share the things that had happened in her life since Lucy's wedding. She never called. He never called. In May, he'd said. Oh, she'd turned those words over in her head a million times, his tone of voice, the look in his eyes. She questioned what it meant over and over every night as she lay in bed.

Finally they turned onto the road that led to Balmorie Estate. "You got a new sign," she commented as they passed.

"Like it?" Ian asked.

"Yes. Very classy."

An Olympic somersaulting event was going on in her stomach and light airy zings kept breezing through her chest. Doubts started to sink in as the five story castle came into view. "This view never gets old," Grammy Lin commented on a reverent breath, staring up at the old stone tower.

"Our reviews have been really great so far," Lucy said. "All the cottages are restored now and renting well. And this summer we'll be able to use a lot of the farm produce in our meals, and to sell."

Jamie's truck wasn't in the driveway. Relief rolled over her in a continuous wave. Thank God she didn't have to face him just yet.

"We'll get you both settled," Ian said, "and then I'll drive you out to the lodge when you're ready."

And there went her nerves again because it was highly probable that Jamie was at the lodge with Devin and Kate.

Her room was the same one she'd had for Lucy's wedding. It was spacious, and Riley loved the old stone wall with the Gothic window. After staring at the view, she turned on the shower in the adjoining bath, unpacked, and then stood under the hot spray.

The hot shower didn't perk her up as she'd hoped. In fact, it made her even more exhausted. After drying off, she wrapped the towel around her and crawled under the covers for a quick twenty minute snooze, knowing it'd take Gram at least that long to unpack and redo her make-up.

The knock at the door woke her.

Riley sat straight up with a start. It took a moment for it to register that the room was dark. Crap. She'd been asleep for hours.

Extracting herself from the bed, she hurried to re-wrap the towel around her body before opening the door, an apology already on her lips. Gram was probably fuming by now. Not that Gram couldn't have gone without her. "Sorry, I—"

Her stomach dropped. And her jaw went slack.

Jamie MacLaren stood in the doorway.

With one hand braced on the door frame, one corner of his mouth twisted into a lop-sided grin, those blue eyes ate her up, branding her from head to toe. Riley's knees went weak in appreciation of that rugged face and hard body. Yeah, her worry about building him up and being disappointed? Totally unfounded. She almost laughed. He was more striking than she remembered.

"Remember me?" he asked, his Scottish brogue thicker than last time, his words laced with humor.

Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and her brain couldn't figure out how to form a reply. His hand dropped and he moved closer. Riley stepped back, clutching the towel tighter. He shut the door behind him. Her heart hammered. Her breathing went shallow. The lock clicked and a zing of lust shot straight through her belly.

He continued his pursuit. And Riley continued backing up. Her skin tingled, every nerve alive and electrified. She hit the wall.

Jamie parked a hand over her head. "It's May."

Riley nodded.

"Six long months."

She swallowed. "Uh huh."

"Thought about you every day, New York. And every night. We both had things to work out. To get over."

He hadn't moved and her body screamed for him to lean into her, to touch her, to do something. Him towering over her, gazing down at her fiercely, but not touching. It was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced. Six months worth of emotion, attraction, dreams, and fantasies were manifesting right then.

"You good now?"

She knew he meant with moving on, with healing from the crap Mark had drug her through. But all Riley could think about was that she was damn good, damn ready, and damn impatient.

Her fingers flexed on the front of her towel. "Yeah." She drew in a deep breath and released the towel. "I'm good."

"Dear God," Jamie breathed, stunned. He scrubbed a shaky hand down his face, his gaze going down. Naked. Riley was naked. And perfect.

She reached up, slid a hand behind his neck and pulled him down as his heart tumbled and his body melded against hers.

He'd been waiting for what felt like centuries. He'd never been so turned on in his life. He was rock hard and aching. He paused, his lips hovering over hers, savoring the feel of her shallow breath on his lips, savoring the fact that he was finally going to kiss her. His eyes closed.

A loud knock at the door jarred through him.

"Riley honey, time to wake up," Gram called from the other side. "Ian's waiting downstairs. Chop, chop!"

"Oh, God," Riley whispered, her tone husky and disbelieving. She cleared her throat and drew in a deep breath. "Coming!"

Her sexy bedroom eyes gazed up at him still clouded with desire. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down. Christ. The door knob rattled.

"Riley? The door is locked." The concern and confusion in Gram's tone came loud and clear. She wasn't used to being shut out. The knob rattled again.

"Shit." Riley grabbed him by the hips and pushed him backwards and into the bathroom where the door slammed in his face.

Jamie blinked, in total shock. He heard her muttering, heard rustling, and guessed she was pulling on her clothes. The door unlocked. Gram's voice became louder.

"Must've locked it by accident," Riley said. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"Haven't been waiting long. I fell asleep, too. You look a little flushed."

"From the nap. I just woke up."

Gram muttered something and then said, "Ready to go see that precious baby?"

"Yeah. Just let me get my shoes and find a clip for my hair." More rummaging, and then the door to the room closed.

Jamie let his forehead bang softly on the bathroom door. Un-fucking-believable. He wasn't sure how their reunion would go, but it sure as bloody hell wasn't this. He hadn't pictured her opening the door in nothing but a towel either. That had changed everything. His approach had gone right out the window when he saw her standing there with all that loose copper hair and those sleepy bedroom eyes...

He'd almost kissed her. Again.

Third time was damn sure going to be the charm.

Leaving the room in a state of frustration, he nearly collided with Hamish in the hallway. The old man's eyes went from Jamie to Riley's room and back again.

"Don't ask," Jamie said, moving past him, and then stopping to add, "And don't meddle either."

Hamish went all blustery. "Why, I wouldn't dare."

"Uh huh." Jamie was well aware of Hamish's addiction to matchmaking. "Hamish," he called, thinking of something else.

"Aye, Jamie?"

"If Riley should happen to go missing. Don't call the authorities."

Hamish's eyes went wide. Then, a slow, ridiculously pleased smile burst through his beard. "Planning a good ole fashion highland abduction are ye, lad?"

"I just might."

He laughed. "Oh, yer Scots down to the bone, Jamie MacLaren. Ye do us all proud." Chuckling, Hamish went on his way.

Well, he hadn't quite meant abducting her—just when he got his hands on her she might not surface for a while. But maybe it wasn't a bad idea. They needed to be alone, away from distractions, and interruptions. He didn't want to take her away from her time with the baby, though. All he needed was a couple hours, just to sit her down and lay it all on the line.

As he made his way downstairs, his thoughts churned. How to get her alone. He knew she'd be at Kate and Dev's for a few hours at least... Plenty of time to make a plan.

Chapter 9

Spending time with her family erased some of Riley's lingering jet lag. Seeing Kate as a mom and meeting baby Piper was amazing. Holding the tiny girl in her arms did funny things to Riley's heart. She could practically feel it expanding with love as she coddled and kissed the gorgeous infant. And yet there was a pang of yearning she hadn't expected. Piper seemed content to rest her head in the crook of Riley's neck and nap. Riley patted her bottom gently and closed her eyes, surprised at how much she liked the feeling.

But soon her turn was over and Gram laid claim yet again.

"I'm gonna head outside for a bit," she said, standing and carefully handing the baby over.

In the kitchen, Riley patted Devin on the shoulder as he stood at the sink washing out a bottle. Seeing him there, a big rugged man doing something so domestic and caring for his little girl gave Riley yet another pang. He glanced over and smiled. "She's something, isn't she?" he asked, pride lighting the depths of his eyes.

"Yeah. Gonna be a stunner, that one. I'll be back inside in a sec."

"Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Just getting some air. Last time I was here it was winter..."

"Ian's out there. Send him in if you see him."

"Will do."

Riley stepped onto the back patio and drew in a deep breath of the cool spring air. The sky was so dark, the stars vivid, so different than what she was used to seeing back home. She shoved her hands into her jacket and walked toward the creek that ran behind the lodge. The sound of it running past soothed her mind.

She wanted a family. Wanted what her cousins had. For the last six months she'd thought a lot about her life, her work, and her hang ups. And she'd come to terms with her mistakes and Mark's. Now she was back. James was as magnetic and sexy as she remembered. More so. He looked healthier, his hair had grown some, taking on a more rugged outdoorsy look that she was particularly fond of. Those eyes were just as riveting and intensely blue as before, and he still made her stomach flip and her fingers itch to touch him.

It was odd, another cousin falling for another MacLaren brother. But maybe it was meant to be. Maybe like attracted like. They'd both been through tough times, both brought into the same realm because of their families. Riley bit on the inside of her cheek as she tried to work out her feelings. She'd developed a huge crush on Jamie, so big it felt monumental and detrimental that he feel the same. From the way his gaze raked her, and the torrid expression in his eyes, it appeared as though he did.

Of course, that might just be because she'd dropped her towel and stood there naked in front of him.

An embarrassed sigh escaped her. She just wanted it over with. Wanted to know where the cards fell, what he felt.

The unknown made her jumpy and annoyed. And they were probably wondering where she'd gotten off to. Riley turned to make her way back to the lodge. As she drew closer to the patio a figure separated itself from the shadows near the corner of the house.

Jamie walked through the shaft of light emanating from the kitchen window. Her breath hitched and the butterflies in her stomach started going nuts again.

He stopped several feet away as though not wanting to get too close. "You want to go for a drive, New York?"

That deep, even voice set her blood on fire. Riley swallowed. He looked dark and dangerous, his large form outlined by the light. The guy had presence in spades.

"I already told Ian to let the others know..." His head tilted a fraction. "It's just a drive."

Said the spider to the fly. "All right. Sure." She could do this. It wasn't like she'd throw herself on him once they got into the truck. Well, she'd better not. Retaining a little dignity after the towel-dropping incident would be nice. No need for him to think she'd pined after him for the last six months. Because she hadn't. Not totally. Nor did he need to know that their moment earlier had caused such a huge firestorm in her body that the flames still lingered. One little spark now and she was pretty sure she'd light up like a damn firework.

As they drove away from the lodge, Riley focused on calming her nerves and putting a lock on the attraction she felt for the hunky Scot. But it was hard. He was within touching distance. His scent filled the cab. Hell, she could even hear him breathing. And even that was a turn on.

"Fix your heater yet?" she asked, looking for a distraction.

Jamie glanced over and gave her a lop-sided smile that nearly sent her over the edge. "Forgot."

She glanced out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Just up to the bothy. I know you want to spend time with Kate and the baby. It's the closest to the lodge."

"What's a bothy?"

"Ours is an old stone cottage. One room. It's open for hikers or anyone to use to rest or take shelter from the elements. They're all over the country. No furniture usually, but always stocked with wood and matches. Supposed to be anyway. Rule is to replace what you use, leave it the way you found it. It's right over the hill."

Not good. So not good. The idea of being in a one room cottage with him, isolated in the hills, sent panic coursing through her system. "Thought we were going for a ride."

"Aye. To the bothy." He slowed the truck to a stop and turned to her. "We need to talk. And I rather do it face to face than driving."

She'd wanted to figure things out with him, to know how he felt. Now that the time was near, she couldn't quite find her courage. "Okay."

Jamie went back to driving and it was just a short distance over the hill to the bothy. The tiny stone building sat just below the crest of the hill with commanding views over the land. It was a pretty spot, especially with the backdrop of the starry sky and the high half moon.

"You coming?"

She hadn't realized he'd turned off the truck and had already opened his door. "Yep."

Riley followed, keeping a safe distance as they entered the building. Jamie went to the fireplace and started a fire. It was a little musty, so she propped the door open using a rock. The fire grew, lighting the room in a soft orange glow. There was a wooden table and two chairs, and a low wooden platform that she guessed was where one would roll out a sleeping bag.

Good thing there wasn't a mattress. Would keep her from wanting to use it. Though she wasn't averse to using the wall, the chair, or hell, being bent over the table—

Her face went hot.

"Doing okay?" Jamie asked, straightening from the fire and taking a seat on the edge of the wooden bed. He parked his elbows on his knees, and gave her such a frank look that Riley was sure he'd just read her wanton thoughts. "I think I can hear your heart racing from here."

Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut. Great. Like she really wanted her reactions known. Riley bit back a retort, trying to keep all her conflicting emotions at bay.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said quietly, "I've had a hard-on since your room."

Yep. There it was. She was on fire. Every part of her just combusted. "What is this?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Shock Riley night or something?"

He stared at her for a solemn moment. "What happened to the woman who sat on my couch and said things more shocking than what I just said, the honest one, the one who didn't pull any punches?"

"That woman was drunk. This one isn't." And this entire thing was not turning out like Riley thought it would. Inside, chaos reigned. She couldn't seem to find stable ground, and it made her nervous and scared. "And I'm honest."

"Then you can't deny there was and is something between us, something way more than just the attraction."

Riley stifled a wince. She'd walked right into that one. "That was one night," she muttered lamely. "You can't make way more out of one night."

"Who are you trying to convince, Riley? Because it isn't me. One night was all it took for me. You can make way more out of a second, a minute, a night." His voice dropped. "If you want to."

Her mind clouded, the weight of what he was saying, what he might be saying overwhelmed her. On one hand, her fantasies and hopes these last six months were coming true. It was everything she wanted to hear. And yet the sane part of her, the down to earth, the pull no punches side suddenly wanted to take a step back, to clear her head and regroup. She couldn't think. She was confused and disoriented and panicked. Only Jamie could do that to her. Rattle her like this. Set her on fire one minute and have her running scared the next.

And, boy, she was scared. Terrified.

This wasn't like her. She was the strong one. The fearless leader of the three cousins. The one who wanted to know how he felt. And now that she had a good idea, she fell apart.

"Do we need to make love first for you to decide?"

Riley glared at him, the heat returning with force. "Will you stop doing that?!"

A wicked grin played on his lips. "Doing what, turning you on from a distance?"

Oh God. Yeah. That.

Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. He wanted to play it like that? Fine. She'd show him just how effective her punches were. "Yes. Turning me on, MacLaren. I'm achy all over, my heart is pounding, and I'm already wet."

His jaw went slack and his eyes went wide and slightly unfocused. His nostrils flared. Jeez. Her breath went shallow, too. Okay, well, she'd meant to give as good as she got, but it had the additional effect of making her even more turned on than before. Her pulse pounded between her legs. She hadn't been lying. Her body was responding as though they were in full on foreplay, and they hadn't even touched.

Jamie scrubbed a shaky hand down his face. "Keep talking to me like that, lass," he said in a thick tone, "and I'll embarrass myself."

"Wouldn't want that," she quipped.

"What do you want, Riley? Want my hands on you? Want me to touch you," he flicked a glance at the juncture of her thighs, "there?"

Her heart was going to hammer right out of her chest. All she had to do was cup herself with a little pressure and she'd come. Her mouth had gone dry. She tried to swallow and couldn't.

But she could fix this on her own, end the constant tension.

Her hands were already on the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning. Jamie's hands gripped either side of the wooden bed where he sat, his knuckles white. Emboldened by the effect she was having on him, Riley found her voice. "I want a lot of things." She pulled her shirt off her shoulders. "I want to be kissed." Her legs were weak as she unbuttoned her jeans. Jamie nearly came off the bed, but he forced himself to stay down, enraptured by her striptease. "I want to touch your bare skin." She bent and pulled one leg off then the other.

His Adam's apple slid up and down. Riley straightened. Down to her bra and underwear, she stepped toward him and stopped at his knee. He opened his legs a little wider, slid his hands up her thighs, and pulled her close. "About time." He kissed her stomach. She gasped at the sensation of warm lips on her skin and his roughened palms on her body. Pleasure shot through her veins, hot and achy.

He continued placing hot little kisses along the top of her panties, his hands coming around and squeezing her ass. As low as the wooden platform was, it put him in the perfect position to kiss her through her underwear. She ached for that, everything in her pounding and pulsing. And when he did, she cried out, grabbing his shoulders, plowing one hand in his hair.

He licked her through the cotton and she saw stars, her muscles clenching as her orgasm built. "God, Jamie, please."

Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Say you missed me," he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice making her crazy.

"I did. I missed you. I'll say it whenever you want. I don't care, just..." His finger slid under the edge of the cotton. She gripped him tighter. He pulled the material aside. And then this hot tongue was licking, circling around her one time, two times, and by the third she exploded suddenly, hard and fast, pleasure surging out and stealing her breath.

He held her tightly until her body went still. But still she wanted more, needed to feel him inside her, needed to put her hands on him.

Compelled by need, Riley took a step back. "Stand up," she said, breathless.

He gazed up at her and her heart tripped over. He stood, snagged a condom from his pocket as she tried to help him with his pants, her hands trembling. Finally they were down, along with his boxer briefs. "Sit down," she told him and as soon as he did, she tore the wrapper, sheathed him with the condom, and then straddled him, sliding herself down until she was fully seated.

A breath of relief went out of her.

Jamie was staring at her, the moment seeming to come to a poignant stillness. He cupped her face, looking deeply into her eyes. He was going to kiss her. Finally. With him inside her, unmoving, and about to kiss for the first time... It was the most overwhelmingly erotic thing Riley had ever experienced. He brushed her lips. "You and me, New York," he whispered against her lips. He angled his head. Their tongues met. He kissed her so sweetly and thoroughly, she nearly died.

She had to move. The temptation was killing her. He felt right, filling her up, making her nuts, making her want to meld into him and never leave. Her fingers threaded through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. She ground down on him, lost.

Jamie groaned, grabbed her around her rib cage with both hands and thrust up. Riley lost herself, reveling in everything he did, every touch, every kiss, every move, until pleasure built so thick and slow and powerful that she went over the edge once more to the sound of Jamie's, "God, Riley." Right before he went over the edge with her.

Chapter 10

"I don't want to let you out of here," Jamie admitted. They'd dressed and now he was on the wooden bed, his back against the wall with Riley in his lap. His muscles were useless. His pulse had finally calmed down. But his mind was still clouded and dazed. He knew it'd be good, but he never expected to lose himself so completely.

Riley tightened her grip around his neck, her mouth pressed against his skin. Her lips spread into a smile. Then, she leaned away to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sultry and satisfied, her lips swollen and red. She took his breath away.

He had a fantasy in his head of Riley falling for him, staying in Scotland, and making a life and a home here. He wanted that fiercely and yet a small part of him wondered if he was being unrealistic or seeking something too perfect. But he knew he had to try. "The last six months..." he began. "I've gotten stronger. Physically and mentally. I've bounced back." Her smile ripped at his heart. He hadn't realized how much he wanted her to be proud of him, to approve. Or that it mattered so much. "You took my heart back to New York with you, you know?"

God, this was harder than he expected. Doubts rushed in. What if she said no? What if her feelings weren't as strong as his? What the fuck did he do then? She didn't say anything, but tears swam in her eyes, which wasn't a good sign.

"Riley?"

She shook her head. What the hell did that mean? Was that a no?

She scooted back from him and stood, biting her lip and giving him a panicked look. Shit. He went cold.

"I just need a minute," she turned and hurried out the door.

No fucking way.

Stunned, he sat there for all of five seconds before getting up and going after her. She stood outside, arms hugging herself and staring out over the landscape. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, hurting more than he had in a long, long time. "Screw the gimp and get it out of your system?" As soon as the thoughtless words were out, he regretted them.

As he opened his mouth to immediately apologize, pain shot through his nose, blinding him for a second as he stumbled back in shock.

Riley had hit him, had whirled around and popped him right in the nose with a sharp right-handed jab. "Jesus, Riley," he rasped, grabbing his nose.

"Ow," she said, shaking her hand, completely unconcerned with him.

"Ow?" he asked incredulously. "You punched me in the face." He was completely in shock and couldn't seem to process it. It was so ludicrous he started laughing.

She'd punched him, and he'd deserved it.

Good for her.

Riley gave him a murderous glare and then her resolve thinned and she cracked a smile. "You're an ass, MacLaren."

"Aye," he agreed, dabbing under his nose and then checking his fingertips for blood. "You hit like a girl."

She snorted. "I am a girl."

"I can teach you how to hit harder."

"You sure you want to do that? Kind of putting the nail in your own coffin. Might be a lot of black eyes and bloody noses in your future then."

He was about to respond to that when her words sunk in. Future. She said future. He was either being a hopeless fool, grabbing on to meaningless words, or there was something there. "For the record, I don't usually say shit like that. I'm sorry."

"I don't think you're a gimp."

His chest gave a painful squeeze. He hated that word. Hated to feel weak in any capacity. And he didn't want to be a charity case, or have anyone pity him. Least of all Riley. He'd lashed out at her because deep down he worried that part of her interest in him was out of sympathy.

"That's a horrible word," she continued. "Would prefer you not say it. Ever." She bit on her bottom lip. "What happened in there... Doesn't have anything to do with your injury. I think you're one hell of an amazing man. You're stronger than anyone I know. Yes, I'm sorry you lost your leg, and I'm sorry you had to endure pain and that it changed your life. But never for one second think that's pity. I mean, really. What kind of woman do you think I am anyway?" Her words had become fast and angry. And by the time she was done, her hands were on her hips, and she was back to glaring at him.

He'd been the jerk and there she was trying to make him feel better, albeit in a rather furious way. Which was kind of hot. He shook his head, forcing the direction of his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "Look," he began, shoving a hand through his hair. "What I said, I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant. You're scared. Just like me. Why do you think I needed to come out here?"

Oh, bloody hell. He shoved his hands into his front pockets, realizing he'd read her all wrong. His own insecurities had clouded the truth. And he felt like a bigger ass than before. An idiot. A total dick.

"I love you, Riley," he admitted, stunned by the fact that it came out of his mouth without warning or any kind of preparation whatsoever. Shit. He drew in a steady breath and then decided to go with it. "I've loved you since that night on my couch. Waking up with you...that's how I want to start every day from here on out. And if that means living here in Scotland or back in New York then that's what I'll do. Just, for God's sake, say you feel the same."

Her eyes went from mad to emotional. "Okay," she said on a gasp, trying to catch her breath and process what he'd said. Her lips went thin as she clenched her jaw, trying to keep herself from crying. "Well. Lucky for you, I'm a writer," she said, tears falling as she laughed. "I can work from anywhere."

And that was the best damn thing Jamie MacLaren had ever heard.

* * *
Thanks so much for reading Riley and Jamie's story. I've had Jamie on my mind for many years before finding just the right setting, series world, and heroine to bring this military hero to life. I have such deep respect and regard for those who serve our country, and am very grateful for the advice I received when developing Jamie's character.

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THE MACLARENS OF BALMORIE  
CONTINUES WITH:

ANY SCOT OF MINE

(Harper & Ross, Book 4)

(Excerpt on the following page)

It's been twelve years since Ross MacLaren saw Harper Dean. Now, she's come from Kentucky to Scotland to take back what she claims is rightfully hers—her father's lost whisky-making recipes. Ross has no intention of giving the woman who broke his teenage heart anything at all. But Harper has other ideas and getting around a six-foot-three wall of outright refusal is nothing to a country girl. Determined, she's not giving up, even if that means a little criminal activity is in order...

* * *

And coming in 2015:

ONCE UPON A TIME IN SCOTLAND

THE GREAT & TERRIBLE SCOT

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Any Scot of Mine Excerpt

Book 4 in the MacLarens of Balmorie series

Chapter One

Today was the day.

Nerves skated along Harper's spine as she went down the wide stairs and into the breakfast room at Balmorie Castle. A nice spread of homemade fare waited on the sideboard, but her stomach was too twisted with anxiety to eat. Since she'd made the decision to come to Scotland weeks ago, random bursts of fear, anticipation, and butterflies had been a regular occurrence, and it was really starting to tick her off.

She'd had twelve years to get over Ross MacLaren.

Twelve years and an ocean apart to forget, to mend the heart that had been broken at seventeen, and move on. The time should have been enough, but deep down Harper knew it hadn't been. Obviously, she hadn't moved on at all because she was right back where she'd started—the feelings she was experiencing now, the anxiety, the nerves, the excitement, were all too familiar.

Just like before.

Just like every time Ross had walked into a room, looked into her eyes, and smiled that bad boy smile of his, the one that held secrets and intimacies only they shared...

She forced a smile at the few guests already eating and went for the coffee station. Her hand trembled as she poured and it made her mood dark as she stirred in sugar and cream, grabbed a piece of dry toast, and then found a small table by the window.

Sitting there, frustrated tears stung her eyes. She was strung so tight and hadn't felt normal in weeks. Not since her father had died. Not since she agreed to his plan...

Ross would certainly be shocked when he saw her.

Would he act like nothing had happened? Would he apologize?

No. Ross MacLaren had walked away from her twelve years ago and never looked back, not an explanation or a single word. He didn't see fit to apologize then and it was doubtful he'd apologize for it now.

A heavy sigh breezed through her lips as she gazed at the loch through the tall windows. He'd have a family by now, a bunch of Ross look-a-likes running around the pretty Highland hills. No doubt they'd all be gorgeous little things.

Harper had imagined more than once how the years might have shaped him. At eighteen, he'd been the stuff of teenage dreams—tall, wide shoulders, black hair and gray/blue eyes. He'd been magnetic, a bad influence, and a tortured soul all rolled into a sexy package and tied with a Scottish-accented bow.

Kind of hard to resist all that.

And even though they'd been about to become stepbrother and sister, it had been impossible for her to look the other way. But then, maybe that had added to the attraction. The forbidden. The impossible romance. The risk.

Of course, the marriage between her father and Ross' mother never happened. And the MacLarens had left the States suddenly—twenty-four hours after she gave her virgin self to Ross.

Well, it was more like twenty-two. But who was counting?

"Looks like it's going to be a sunny day. Refill?"

Lucy MacLaren stood by the table with a pot of coffee. Harper moved her cup to be filled. "Thanks."

"Perfect weather for sightseeing," Lucy said with a friendly smile as she poured. Lucy had checked Harper in yesterday evening and Harper instantly liked the pretty, down-to-earth American transplant. During their conversation, Harper learned Lucy had married Ian, one of three MacLaren brothers who owned Balmorie Estate.

"Actually I'm here on business. I'm looking for someone."

Interest flashed in Lucy's round eyes. She slid into the empty seat and put her elbows on the table. "I'm still pretty new to the area, but between me and Ian, and the Grahams..." Lucy flicked a look at the elderly woman who was clearing a vacated table nearby. "Fran. Harper is looking for someone," she called, and Harper cringed. She hadn't wanted an audience. Just a little info.

Fran wiped her hands on her apron and came over. "Good morning, Miss Harper. Sleep well?"

She'd slept horrible. But Harper smiled. "Fine, thank you. The room is lovely." Which was true. It was huge, with stone walls, a fireplace, and a view that overlooked the loch. Very romantic.

Harper had chosen Balmorie Estate as her base of operations since it was close to the home Ross had once shared with his mother. She was pretty sure, well hoping, that he still lived in the area. He was a MacLaren. Lucy was a MacLaren through her recent marriage, and Harper hoped they could point her in the right direction. The sooner she got this over with the better.

"I was hoping you might know Ross MacLaren. He'd be about thirty now. Has a younger broth—"

"Liam," Lucy said with a bright smile. "Oh yeah, we know them well. They're first cousins of my husband. Ross lives up the road past the old distillery."

"Would be no trouble to ring him if you'd like," Fran offered.

"Oh no." Her heart dropped. "I was hoping more to . . . surprise him."

She could tell by the looks on Lucy and Fran's faces that they thought there was some romantic possibility between her and Ross. Surprise wasn't her goal, of course. She just wanted to face Ross on her terms.

After Fran and Lucy gave her directions, Harper left the castle on foot. The walk would be a few miles, but it was a beautiful, warm day, and it gave her time to think, to prepare, to run through the words and scenario yet again.

She'd dressed in jeans and a snug T shirt, hiking boots, and had tied a light jacket around her waist. Her long hair was twisted up like usual, and she hadn't troubled herself too much with make-up—just a light dusting of powder, some mascara, and lip balm. She wasn't going to try and impress him. He'd used her and dumped her, and there was no part of Harper Dean that was going to revert back to that seventeen year old lovesick dummy she'd been.

He deserved nothing from her. Nothing. Hell, he'd already done enough damage, leaving her with trust issues that ran so deep that Harper could never fully accept love. Or give it in return. She knew. She'd tried.

He'd said he loved her.

The memory came through so clearly it made her chest hurt and her throat thicken. His heavy weight pinning her to the bed as he stilled inside of her, the heat of his skin, the whispered, ragged words. The conviction in his voice had rang so true.

And yet, in the end, it had meant nothing.

The old distillery finally came into view, pulling her from her thoughts. Ross' family had owned the place, had made whisky there for over a hundred years.

Years after Ross' father had died, his mother, Mary, had met Harper and her father during their tour of Scottish distilleries. Even then the place was declining. But it had been beautiful to Harper—the old stone buildings lining both sides of the road, the rushing creek behind the still house, the entire complex reminding her of a tiny village.

Mary MacLaren had cut her losses and moved with Ross and his younger brother Liam to Kentucky to be with Whitney Dean, third generation bourbon-maker. Dean's was a name known around the world. A bottle of it would cost you eighty dollars and up. Bourbon-making had been in Harper's family for as long as Scottish whisky had been in Ross'. And, like Balmorie Distillery, Dean's was now in decline. The economy had had a terrible impact on luxury items.

Her father was gone, and so it had fallen on Harper to save the family business.

Ross MacLaren owed her. Big time. And she wasn't above cashing in. He'd taken something from her, and now she'd come to collect something from him. Simple as that. She'd get what she came for. After all, stubborn was a gene inherent in the Dean family.

Harper kept moving, past the distillery and up the road as it curved between two hills before leveling out again. The stone bridge was up ahead. She crossed it, taking a moment to admire the creek rushing beneath her.

In the distance was the house Mary MacLaren had lived in. Harper had been in that house—once, when she and her father first met Mary and were invited to dinner after they'd toured the distillery. The same stone used on the bridge made up the house's walls. The yard was nice and neat and there were old trees dotting the landscape.

Her heart was already beating faster and knots were forming and un-forming in her stomach. Twelve years, she reminded herself. She'd moved on. Totally moved on.

And she hated him, so there was that.

Harper pushed open the iron gate and walked up the path to the front door. A few nerves were to be expected, of course. No big deal. With a steady inhale and squaring her shoulders, she lifted her hand and knocked, and listened for the sound of little feet and voices.

But no one came.

She knocked again, then peeked through the front window before walking around the side of the house. The driveway was empty, but there was an old pickup truck parked at the far end of the yard, near a stone shed, and the constant familiar thud told her someone was chopping wood.

As she drew closer, a red-haired old man tossed a log in the back of the truck with a laugh.

Her mouth started to go dry and she could hear her pulse pounding through her eardrums. There was another voice, this one deeper and richer and . . . oh God. She couldn't do this. Stupid, stupid idea.

He was on the other side of that truck. Just hearing his voice, packed with so many memories, was like a kick in the gut.

As the old man tossed another log into the bed of the truck, he made eye contact, surprised to see her standing there. "Ye need some help, lass?" he asked, smiling through a russet-colored beard shot with gray.

Harper couldn't answer. She tried, but nothing came out.

And then he appeared, casually walking toward the back end of the truck, coming around the old man, the ax resting on his shoulder. Big. Sweaty. Devastating. Ross MacLaren. An old, light blue T-shirt, streaked with dirt and sweat clung to his form, the arms tight around his biceps. That black hair she remembered, the way it waved and never really conformed, was dampened from hard work. His features were the same dark beautiful ones she remembered, but now he was harder, bigger, and tougher-looking than she ever imagined.

And one look at him destroyed her.

The half-cocked smile on his face died at the sight of her. If it was possible, his features went harder and his eyes took on the glint of hard steel.

Harper did what any level-headed country girl would do when faced with insurmountable odds. She cut her losses and ran like hell.

* Any Scot of Mine  **will**  be available in stores early August 2014!
The MacLarens of Balmorie

MAD ABOUT PLAID (Lucy & Ian, Book 1)

A SCOT LIKE YOU (Devin & Kate, Book 2)

THE TROUBLE WITH KILTS (James & Riley, Book 3)

ANY SCOT OF MINE (Harper & Ross, Book 4)

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