Page 3 of Wild Scottish Gold (The Enchanted Highlands #7)

CHAPTER TWO

Thane

I t had been six weeks since I’d been home.

And three weeks and three days since my night with the American woman who had flitted in and out of my life, disappearing as quickly as a flame in the wind.

I’d cursed myself more than once for being a deep sleeper, for not asking for her number, a last name— something . The taste of her kiss had consumed me, keeping me awake many a night since, while I reminded myself this was why I didn’t do casual hookups.

Nothing about my night with Kaia had been casual, and my fingers clenched as I thought about sinking into her softness once more. She’d entranced me from the moment she’d stumbled into me as the clock had chimed its warning bells in the background.

She was a walking contradiction. Glossy dark curls, the color just on the edge of midnight, were piled on her head, tendrils escaping left and right from her bun. Nothing about her face seemed to match, and at the same time, it all worked perfectly together. A large mouth, lips the color of fresh plucked raspberries, seemed at odds with a pert nose. Azure wide-set eyes, blue with flecks of gold and gray, were turned up at the corners and shrouded in inky black lashes. Her body was strong, her stance confident, and yet she was soft and round and irresistibly touchable. Watching her had been like watching a colt first learning to walk, as she spoke in bouts of breezy confidence mixed with an almost strange hesitancy.

It was almost as if someone had told her to quiet down often in her life.

Was she back home now or still traveling in Scotland? We hadn’t spoken of our plans, our work, or anything too deep. At the time, it was a simple understanding, a mutual attraction, a silent game we’d both agreed to. We’d both understood the score.

What I hadn’t expected was for the scent of her hair to be embedded in my brain.

For six long weeks, I’d been working to repair and upgrade some iron work at Holyrood Palace, one of the most prestigious commissions I’d received to date. I’d been away from my smithy for too long now, but luckily, my second-in-command, Ian, had taken over most of our large projects, as well as the hiring of new crew. He’d even rented out a corner of our warehouse to another blacksmith new to the area who was looking for space to work but hadn’t wanted to join our team.

A woman, I was told, who wanted the freedom to also work on jewelry and fine metals when she wasn’t taking on grander projects. It was fine by me, as we had more than enough space, and I was always keen for extra streams of income.

Not that I necessarily needed it.

But once a poor lad, always a poor lad, I supposed. It was a hard habit to break, always wanting to know where my next meal was coming from, even though I’d far surpassed even my most grandiose dreams pertaining to my personal wealth. Still, a penny saved is a penny earned and all that, so I’d been happy enough to have a fellow blacksmith in tenancy at our workshop.

Grabbing my thermos of coffee, I left my wee cottage tucked in the hills overlooking Loch Mirren, just shy of a wee town called Loren Brae. I’d drifted that way after I’d completed an internship, having left secondary school early, and knowing I wasn’t one for university. No, it had been straight into the trades for me, and I’d been lucky to find a mentor who’d not just taught me how to work with metal, but also how to love the craft. Anyone could weld or fabricate metal in a forge, with enough training, but the ones who looked for the beauty in the craft itself? Those were the ones who could meld art with function.

And those were the ones who scored great commissions—like the project I’d just finished in Edinburgh.

Aye, I was proud of my work, my reputation, and the business I’d built for myself and my employees. Settling in wee Loren Brae had proved to be bountiful for me, as the land for my shop had been cheap, and I had negligible competition in the surrounding area. I’d quickly built a name for myself and was happy to catch some scran at the wee pub in town every week or so.

The morning air was crisp, rain threatening as moody clouds clung low to the horizon as I crested the hill, Loch Mirren spreading before me. An expansive loch, her waters were still today, reflecting the colorful buildings of Loren Brae like someone had tossed a handful of confetti on a puddle. Towering above the village was the grand dame herself, MacAlpine Castle, and she looked as stately and important as ever. My eyes scanned the surface of the loch, looking for any disturbance … a ripple of … anything , really.

There’d been rumors over the past year or so.

Enough rumors that most of the lads at work were convinced the town was haunted, and I’d even lost two of my best employees when their families had insisted on moving away.

Kelpies , they said.

I wasn’t much for mystical stuff and whatnot, but I’d be hard-pressed to explain away a few of the otherworldly shrieks I’d heard in the wee hours of the morning over the past year. The sound was enough to make your blood run cold, and each time, I’d lain in bed wondering when I’d work up the courage to go outside to investigate.

I’d not yet cracked the door open and strode outside. Some might call that weak, but I just called it self-preservation. No need to go borrowing trouble, as they say. The best I could do was put my nose to the grindstone, keep the jobs coming in for those I did employ, and hope the folks at the castle would sort things out soon enough.

Whatever that entailed.

Turning down a gravel road that ran away from the town, my lorry bumped along the lane until my warehouse came into sight.

Blackwood Forge.

A building and business bearing my own name, with twisted intricate wrought iron gates, and a large sign arching over the drive.

Whistling, I pulled to a stop and grabbed my lunch cool box and thermos, before crossing the lot to where Ian stood in the door, a smile on his face.

“Was fairly certain you’d abandoned us for those posh twats up in Edinburgh.” Ian grinned, holding out a hand. Clasping it, I laughed.

“Och, just because I like those wee finger sandwiches with my tea now, doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“I knew they’d get to you. It’s always those wee sandwiches that take a lad down.” Ian shook his head sadly and followed me into the office space built into the front part of the warehouse.

My desk was clear, papers stacked neatly, each pile with notes and labels on top. Turning, I nodded to Ian as he took a seat across from my desk.

“Looks good in here. Thanks for holding it down for me.”

“Aye, nae bother.” Ian waved a hand, though his face held strain. I knew that look.

“What’s up?” I sat and opened my thermos, taking a swig of my black coffee.

“Och, I’ve been waiting to tell you this. But it’s about the distillery.”

Common Gin was opening a new distillery on MacAlpine Castle property, and I’d been excited to bid on the project, knowing the owner, Munroe, liked to use local workers where he could.

“Did they not like the bid? I’m happy to go over it with them if there are any questions.”

Disappointment filled me as Ian winced. We’ve lost out to another company . I had to admit, this one burned. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to return to work, particularly after such a prestigious job in Edinburgh, and find out that I’d lost out on a project in my own town.

“They’ve, uh, gone with another.” Ian cleared his throat, his eyes drifting to the door. A prickle of unease shot up my back.

“Who won it?” I tapped one finger on the desk, trying to hold down my irritation. Maybe there was still a chance to have a wee chat with Munroe, or perhaps I could partner with the company he’d gone with.

“Och, that’s the problem. It’s our new tenant.” At that, guilt flashed across Ian’s face as my mouth dropped open.

“Wait … what? Our new …?” I half stood and then slumped back in my seat, dragging a hand through my hair. Lowering my voice, I narrowed my eyes at Ian. He gulped. “The woman?”

“Aye. That’s the way of it. Seems Clarke Construction is the contractor, and Orla liked the idea of working with another woman on the project.”

“Surely Orla knows we’re well suited to the task.” I’d worked with Clarke Construction a time or two in the past and had found Orla to be an efficient leader.

Ian just shrugged one shoulder, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Damn it.” I pushed back from the desk.

I’d really wanted that bid. It would likely be a fun one, since there would be more artistry involved, and Munroe had a substantial budget. Frustrated, I paced my office.

“How in the world did this woman get a bid in already?”

“Seems she heard talk of it at the pub. She’s established herself fairly quickly. Eager to work, that one is.” A hint of admiration peeked through, and I turned, glowering at Ian.

“Is she in today?”

Ian shrugged. “Most days she’s here by now. As I said, eager to work.”

A car door slammed outside and then another, likely my employees showing up for the day.

Taking a deep breath, I worked to tame my frustration—Ian didn’t need my shite—knowing it wasn’t helpful when we had a newcomer in our midst.

A laugh caught me. My skin prickled with awareness.

I knew that laugh.

I’d dreamt of that laugh.

My blood heated, desire unfurling inside me, and I strode to the door, wondering if one too many sleepless nights had me hallucinating the American woman at my very doorstep.

But no, it wasn’t a memory that drifted through the door, chuckling at something one of my workers said.

It was Kaia.

Her laugh died on her lips as her eyes locked with mine, and she froze mid step, the others continuing past her. Only when they saw her stop did they turn and see me in the office doorway.

Their greetings paused as everyone watched me and Kaia locked in a stare.

A throat cleared behind me.

“Um, Thane, this is Kaia Bisset, our new tenant.” Ian walked forward, his head swiveling between the two of us. “Kaia, this is Thane Blackwood, the owner of Blackwood Forge.”

“Thane.” Kaia’s voice was a whisper. Hardly the confident, booming laugh I’d heard from before. “I thought that was just a common name in Scotland.”

“Um…” Ian looked back and forth between us, confused.

I waited, wondering how she’d handle this, as I tried to disregard the emotions that burned in my core. Excitement to see her, desire to touch her once more, frustration that she’d taken a job from me. And finally, the rising dread of realization that she was now my tenant, and basically a co-worker, which meant she was off limits to me.

I never, ever , mixed work and pleasure. I’d learned that the hard way and had vowed to never make that mistake again.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Kaia said, making the decision for me, as she walked forward and held out her hand. “You’ve got a great team here, and the workspace has been perfect. I’m lucky to have found this spot.”

I took her hand, a lightning bolt of lust surging through me at the smooth touch of her palm against mine, and held those moody blue eyes with my own.

“Aye, we’re proud of what we’ve built here. Welcome to Loren Brae, Kaia.”

Heat flashed in her eyes as we both remembered the last time I’d welcomed her to Scotland, buried to the hilt inside her. I dropped her hand, realizing I’d been holding it a moment too long, and took a step back.

My day had just gone from bad to worse, and my frustration was ready to boil over. Turning, I whistled to the lads.

“On you go, lads. We’ve got a project to finish. Ian? My office.”

With that, I left Kaia behind me and closed my office door, needing an actual physical barrier between us, lest I throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my lorry to have my way with her.

Bloody hell, but how was I going to manage this?

“So, uh, that’s Kaia.” Ian sat gingerly across from me, aware of my tension, but likely still thinking it was about the Common Gin project.

“Enough about Kaia. We need to go over the budget for the Kinross farm.”

With that, I bent myself to work. I’d been gone long enough that I didn’t need to leave this office anytime soon, and hopefully, that would give me enough time to get my head on straight when it came to the gorgeous American with a bawdy laugh that was apparently sent to make my life a living hell.

“And after that, I’ll pop up to the distillery and have a wee chat with Munroe.”

Ian gave me a sharp look.

“You’ll take the job from Kaia?”

“I didn’t say that. I just want to see if there’s an opportunity for both of us to work on the project.”

“Careful there,” Ian said, and then his mouth closed when I glared at him.

“It’s my town, Ian. I’ll damn well fight for what’s mine.”

“Right. Whatever you say, boss.”

I knew when he called me boss, he was annoyed with me, but I didn’t care. What I needed to do was figure out how to reclaim what was mine.

And keep my hands off what would never be mine. Bloody hell.