Page 2 of Wild Scottish Gold (The Enchanted Highlands #7)

CHAPTER ONE

Kaia

T he clock struck the top of the hour, sending the kinetic mechanisms into a flurry of motion, and I craned my neck to take in the full glory of the thirty-foot Millennium Clock at Edinburgh’s National Museum.

An Egyptian monkey statue sat on a large iron wheel and moved back and forth as the wheel spun, sending spirals twirling out from its center, cogs flying into motion, which in turn kicked off a flurry of activity inside the clock.

Glass eyes gleamed from burned wood crevices on the side.

Requiem figures twirled in a rainbow of color beaming through tinted glass panes.

Bells chimed.

A warning or a promise, I couldn’t be certain, but the fine hairs at the back of my neck lifted.

I stepped back, craning my neck to see the spire, my thoughts consumed with the level of craftsmanship necessary to create such a large-scale and intricate piece. Consumed, I didn’t track my surroundings well and slammed into what felt like a rock-hard statue.

Turning, I gasped, putting my hands out to catch what I thought was my blunder at tripping over priceless artwork.

Instead my hands met a very warm, very muscular, very male chest.

Shit.

This man was imposing, and I was not someone who typically allowed myself to be imposed upon. I wasn’t a small woman by any means and prided myself on muscles honed by long hours of working as a metalsmith. Somehow, this man managed to make me feel … almost dainty. An unusual feeling, to be sure, and one I’d file away to think about later.

In the meantime, I needed to make my apologies and step back from this towering brute of a man.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, waving a hand in the air as I subtly slid a step backward. Off balance, I stumbled, and his hands came out to steady me.

At my waist.

It was such an intimate touch from a stranger, one whom I hadn’t even gotten a clear look at yet, that a shiver danced across my skin. His hands felt like iron just pulled from the forge, heating through my shirt and searing the skin at my sides.

“Nae bother, lass.” His voice, rough around the edges as though unused, was tinged with the music of the Highlands. “Are you all right, then?”

I forced myself to look up from where I stared at the intricate metal necklace he wore, the thick silver medallion hung on a leather cord shaped in a complicated design featuring a thistle and sword, and blinked up at one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in real life.

My mouth went dry.

My pulse sped up.

I immediately threw out all plans of trying to see Greyfriar’s Bobby. A new plan formed.

One which involved me, this mouthwatering Scotsman, and a gift to myself for finally starting a new chapter. And what better way to kick it off than with a proper hookup with what I dearly hoped was one very improper Scotsman.

My flirting skills were rusty at best, as I’d largely checked out of the dating game two years ago after I decided that I couldn’t be trusted to pick good men for myself. I’d been on a hiatus of sorts since, but this wasn’t about dating.

Oh no. This was about fulfilling a very unrealized need, one that I’d buried for too long.

Dark brown hair, just long enough to curl, a thread of gold running through it, capped a craggy face that was all sharp edges and commanding features. A short beard edged his jawline, and his eyes, God, his eyes .

They were the color of calm water just after a storm had blown through.

I smiled up at him, tilting my head, and shot him a flirtatious look from beneath my eyelashes.

A corner of his mouth quirked up, the valleys of his face dipping and rearranging, the sun peeking out over the mountains as he smiled.

His eyes shifted color, deepening slightly, and I caught my breath.

Still waters run deep, and all that.

“I’m not entirely sure if I’m all right,” I answered, wetting my lips. “But I’m sure a drink at a local pub with a handsome tour guide such as yourself would help settle me.”

Well, hell. It looked like it didn’t take much to jump back into the flirting game. But even so, this was probably the most forward I’d ever been in my life, and nerves kicked low in my stomach as I waited to see if he’d be receptive to my invite.

“Och, an American lass, is it? New to town or just on holiday?”

“Just on holiday.” It was partly true, as I was just on holiday, in Edinburgh at least. I had no need to tell him that I’d be here any longer than that. At least not for now. I gestured to the clock behind me. “I couldn’t help but come to see the clock when I heard about it.”

“Is that right?” The man’s gaze sharpened, and he glanced over my shoulder to where the massive clock still whizzed and buzzed away. “I come to see it every time I’m in Edinburgh, as well. Incredible work.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Turning, I noted the clock’s interior mechanisms slowly whirling to a stop, and admired how the iron had been forged to form so many moving parts. It would have been a fun project, a labor of love, and if I didn’t have to make money to live on, I’d likely try to make similar art pieces myself. However, as much as I loved the more detailed work of jewelry design, blacksmithing was where I made the bulk of my income.

But first I’d need my own forge and workshop.

Something I hoped to have remedied soon, based on a few leads I had uncovered in Loren Brae, the town where I’d inherited a small cottage and a bit of land.

“It has a darkness to it, yet I find it to be hopeful.”

At that, I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes locking on the stranger’s face as he gazed up at the clock. Turning back, I examined all the intricate figures tucked away on the inside of the clock, death and chaos and light, and realized that this piece was both a reflection on our chaotic history and a hope for better tomorrows yet to come.

“Ever onward?” I suggested.

“Exactly that.” Approval warmed in the stranger’s tone.

“I’d love to get inside there, to see how it runs.” I couldn’t help that part of my brain that loved to dismantle things and put them back together just so I understood how they worked.

“Same, lass. Same.”

A flutter of longing shifted across me, the word lass bringing to light hidden fantasies brought on by one too many nights of binge-watching Outlander .

“Well.” I cleared my throat and pursed my lips, checking the slim watch I wore at my wrist. “I should be getting on.”

“I’d certainly be remiss in my duties of welcoming you to Scotland if I didn’t take you for that drink at the pub. Just to make sure you were … settled … and all that.”

His words held a promise, one that I’d hold him to, if he let me.

“I’m Kaia,” I said, offering my hand.

“Thane.”

Neither of us offered last names. Instead, Thane offered me his arm, and I threaded my hand through it, marveling at how this man dwarfed me. I wasn’t one for needing someone to ride to my aid in times of distress, but if I was, Thane would be perfect for the job.

He led me down the curve of a pretty cobblestoned street, colorful mismatched buildings clambering over each other as much as the people clogging the sidewalks. Window boxes held cheerful flowers, and music lilted from open windows capturing an unseasonably warm evening air. Thane stopped in front of a pub with a sign on the window that proclaimed: “No bairns. Dugs welcome.”

I smiled.

“Dugs.”

“Aye, lass.” Thane hunched his shoulders and growled a bit, mimicking a bigger dog. “Dugs.”

Charmed, I swung inside, delighted to find there were, indeed, a few dugs among the mix of patrons gathered at low tables scattered through the room.

“What can I get you?” I opened my mouth to protest, as I was technically the one who had propositioned him, but let it slide. If the man wanted to buy me a drink, he certainly could.

“Guinness, please.”

Approval lit in his eyes, and my insides warmed. I wanted to see him looking at me that way in the bedroom, hopefully while on his knees. Rubbing my thighs together at the burst of desire I felt, I distracted myself by admiring a cute bulldog with a tartan bowtie.

Several drinks and a shared pizza later, I tumbled onto the mattress with Thane, both of us knowing this was where we’d been leading all along.

Our conversation had been interesting, but surface level. The only question I desperately needed an answer to—if he was married or involved with someone—had been answered with the evidence of no wedding ring and a promise from him that he was much too busy with work for a relationship. Instead, we’d stuck to light topics through the night—music, Scotland’s favorite tourist spots, and favorite sports teams. Nothing too deep.

Nothing that would dig our hooks into the other’s soul.

No, tonight was for playing, and I’d found a willing and able partner, and when his mouth slanted over mine, his kiss igniting my desire, I was pleased with my bold decision to flirt with this man.

Friction met me, work-roughened hands sliding over the soft skin of my stomach, lifting, lifting, until my shirt dragged over my head, and he reached around to unhook my bra with one hand. My breasts fell, full and heavy at my stomach, and he groaned, burying his face between them.

Thane licked, and I arched backward as his hands came to my sensitive breasts, molding them in his rough palms. I gasped out a breath as his thumb slid across a nipple, the scrape as rough as the rusty edge of his voice, and when his lips followed, his teeth tugging lightly, I moaned. Threading my hands through his hair, I angled my hips upward, rubbing against the thick muscles of his thigh.

The man was seriously built.

Needing to touch, I ran my hands down his strong back and tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and gaping at the display of muscles that greeted my eyes. Thane was big in the way of men that worked with heavy equipment for a living, no slender and well-honed gym muscles here. No, this man resembled more of a Viking, with his wicked jawline, unruly hair, and broad, strong shoulders.

He was just missing his war braids.

But it didn’t stop him from treating my body like land to be conquered, exploring every inch of me with a single-minded focus that had me dangerously tense, but every time I gusted close to an orgasm, he seemed to know, and eased back, leaving me dangling precariously on the edge.

Two could play that game, so I reached between us, clasping his hard length, and he groaned, sinking his teeth into the soft skin at the side of my breast.

“Do you take joy in leaving me unsatisfied, sir?” I asked, squeezing more tightly, and he moaned, his breath hot on my skin.

“Och, the first time you come it will be when I’m buried deep inside ye, lass.”

My eyes almost rolled back in my head at the soft burr of his words, and I waited, all but panting in lust, as he sheathed himself with a condom before ranging himself over me.

“Och, and lass?”

“Yes?” I arched my back as he positioned himself between my legs, his body settling on mine, his broad shoulders cocooning me in our own little world.

“Welcome to Scotland.”

With that, Thane slid deep, and I shattered around him, pleasure consuming me until dots of light danced behind my eyelids.

And when I woke, hours later, the dim light from the bathroom slanting across his memorable face, I slid from the bed. Pressing my lips together, I dressed quietly, before stopping just at the door of his hotel room.

Though I barely knew the man, I felt reluctant to leave him.

Indecision whirled, but finally, deciding against leaving a note, I slipped quietly from the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. My body felt loose and satisfied, twinges of soreness in muscles long unused, and despite myself, I grinned.

Welcome to Scotland, indeed .