Page 5 of Wild Scottish Gold (The Enchanted Highlands #7)

CHAPTER FOUR

Kaia

F ollowing instructions, I walked past the castle’s main door, and around the side to a smaller door tucked at the back. Arched wood, with heavy iron hinges, and bolts that made me admire the handiwork of days past, the door was pretty much the perfect castle door. Did people even realize how distinctive styles of craftsmanship resulted in objects that stood the test of time? Admiring the handiwork, I trailed a finger over the iron bolt before swinging the door open and stepping into a rough-cut stone hallway lit with sconces in the shape of torches. Appreciating the blend of modern electrics with the nod toward the past, I paused.

I needed a moment to settle myself before I met with Willow, an American fashion designer who had recently moved to Loren Brae and was working on designs for the castle gift shop. She’d approached me about an idea she had for chain-mail apparel, and I was meeting with her at her temporary studio today to discuss those designs.

Two very different projects, both creatively fulfilling.

At least this one wouldn’t likely result in Thane trying to steal work from me.

My anger simmered, ripe and fresh, and I had to force out a few calming breaths lest I take that energy into the meeting with me. Willow was bubbly and fun, sunshine on a spring day, and I didn’t want to allow recent frustrations to taint my mood during the appointment.

This would be fun. Creative collaboration should always be fun.

Taking a step forward, I slammed to a stop as something huge and transparent and fierce, leaped from the wall and skidded to a stop in front of me. Throwing up my hands, my tote going flying—directly through the apparition, mind you—I screamed the scream of a woman getting slaughtered in a horror movie.

The ghost highland cow shrunk back, his eyes rounding in concern, and he slunk into a corner of the hallway, his head hanging low as he watched me.

“What the hell?” I gasped, hand to my heart, tears pricking my eyes. I wasn’t a fan of the ol’ jump scare, not in movies or in real life. I’d never been one for haunted houses, even if I was certain that I had a propensity for seeing ghosts.

There was a stark difference between seeing a spirit drifting across the land, far enough away that you could still question if it was just a figment of your imagination, and one almost running you over in a dimly lit castle hallway.

Footsteps pounded behind me and even as I turned, I was being lifted, as though I weighed nothing. I was swiftly cradled against a muscular chest that I’d thought of in great detail many a night since I’d first been held against it.

He smelled like soap and cedar, and I burrowed into him for a second, knowing that this wouldn’t last. We’d be back to rivals shortly, but in this moment, I needed him to steady me.

“What’s happened, lass? Are you hurt?” Thane’s voice rasped at my ear, worry in his tone, and I looked up, caught in the storm that raged in his eyes.

“Um.” I licked my lips, my mouth having gone dry. “No, just a fright.”

There was no way I was telling Thane that I’d seen a ghost. Men like him didn’t seem the type to believe in such nonsense anyway.

“I didn’t know you were so reactive.”

At his words, my blood heated. Tilting my head, I shot him a look.

“Didn’t you?”

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it . Hadn’t I been lecturing myself ten minutes ago about making wrong decisions with men? And all it took was being cradled in this man’s impossibly strong arms again for me to completely forget my resolution.

Heat flashed in his eyes and then his lips were on mine.

“Bloody hell.” His words rumbled against my lips. “I’ve missed this.”

Pressing my back to the stone wall, Thane kissed me like a man lost in the desert, discovering a few drops of rain caught on a leaf. His kiss consumed me, the intensity of his focus, his complete plundering of my walls leaving me liquid and warm. Reaching up, I dove my hands into his hair, pulling him closer. My breasts pressed against his chest, my nipples pebbling against his muscles, and I moaned into his mouth as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

He licked inside, his tongue wet and hot, and a sharp stream of lust shot straight through me as flashes of the night we’d had together came back to me. Slick heat, rough hands against soft skin, his tongue laving across me and bringing me to pleasure, over and over.

I craved this man’s touch, and no matter how much I’d tried not to think of him again, it had only taken one moment to reignite the desire I’d thought I’d successfully tamped down.

My body, that traitorous bitch, had other ideas. Hitching a leg up, I wrapped it around his waist, moaning into his lips as I felt his hardness brush against where I wanted him most.

“Ahem.”

A throat cleared behind us and my head shot back so fast, I smacked it lightly against the stone wall behind me.

What the hell was I doing? I had a client meeting and here I was climbing this man like a maid sneaking out with the stableboy back in olden times. Closing my eyes, embarrassment heating my face, I eased my leg down and put my hands against Thane’s chest, pushing him lightly back. Smoothing my clothing, I peeked around his shoulder, praying it was just some random passing by and not my potential new client.

Willow beamed at me from the end of the hallway.

No such luck today.

Furious with myself, and with Thane for throwing me off my stride, I pushed him farther back and crouched to pick up the contents of my tote, which had scattered across the floor when I’d tossed it in the air.

“Willow, I’m sorry about that. I had a bit of a scare and Thane came to check on me.”

“Is that what he was doing?” Amusement danced in Willow’s voice, and I stayed focused on gathering my things, trying to regain some modicum of composure.

“I’ll be off then, lasses. Good morning to the both of you.” Thane’s voice was strained, his words proper and forced, and I didn’t look up as his shadow disappeared from the floor and light streamed in the door.

“My God, I thought I’d have to put the firehose on you two.” Willow’s laugh was warm and bright, and finally I stood. She fanned her face, all smiles and amusement, and some of my embarrassment eased. “I might have to find my own grumpy Scotsman and reenact that whole scene.”

“Willow, first may I say—I’m so sorry. That was not only unexpected, but deeply unprofessional of me. I hope you won’t let this affect our potential working relationship. I can promise you nothing of that manner will happen again in the future.”

Willow put her hands on her hips and threw her head back and laughed even harder than before. The sound boomed through the small hallway, and I realized just how much the space amplified sound. No wonder Thane had come running, he’d probably thought I was being murdered.

“I will certainly not make you promise that. From where I was standing it looked like it needed to happen again, and on repeat.” A curvy woman with a larger-than-life presence, Willow wore wide-legged leather pants, slouchy boots, and a softly draped sweater in screaming hot pink.

“It can’t.” I hitched my bag up my shoulder and scanned the floor once more to make sure I’d retrieved everything.

“Hmm. Well, why don’t you come in and we can chat about it?” Willow waved me forward.

“There’s nothing to chat about.” Horrified about discussing personal business with a potential client, I moved to follow Willow. She stopped, shooting me a glance over her shoulder.

“It’s not all that long since I was also new in town, Kaia. I’m offering friendship, because I know what it’s like to feel untethered in a new place.”

“Oh.” Willow pushed open a door and ushered me into a large room with natural light, standing mirrors facing two fitting platforms, and two huge tables covered with fabrics, notebooks, and two sewing machines. Baskets of multi-colored swatches were tucked beneath the table, and Taylor Swift played softly over hidden speakers in the background. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought about it like that. I’m really, just … I’m a little flustered, I’ll admit.”

“Was that you who screamed?” Willow bent to a small fridge and opened it up, pulling out a Coke. Lifting it in the air in question, I nodded, and she handed me a cold can, then took one herself. Gesturing to two armchairs tucked in front of the paned glass windows, we both sat.

“It was. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing. I don’t think less of you for being scared of something, nor do I think less of you for wanting to thank your hottie of a rescuer.” Willow winked at me as my face flushed. “Tell me what spooked you.”

“Um…” Right, how was I supposed to say it was a ghost cow? I struggled to find the words.

Understanding dawned in her eyes and she pinched her nose. “Damn it, Clyde.” Willow raised her voice and a plaintive moo filled the air.

I almost dropped my soda.

“You … you … can see him?”

“Clyde is our resident ghost highland coo. He’s a big fan of scaring people. Like a toddler hiding behind a sheet and jumping out.”

“A coo?” I asked faintly, taking a sip of the soda to cool my throat.

“Cow or coo, as they say here. He’s harmless, though he did make Lia pee her pants. Something that she asks that we don’t repeat, and we tell pretty much everyone.”

“Who’s Lia?” Distracted by Willow’s chatter, I couldn’t help but stare at the door to the hallway, in case Clyde decided to make another appearance.

“You’ll meet her soon. Another American. She runs the restaurant at the castle. In fact, there are a few of us American ladies here. Sophie, you’ve met her?”

“Yeah, briefly.” I tore my eyes away from the door and focused on Willow. “She’s nice.”

“She inherited the castle and has been recruiting people over the pond, so to speak, for various … needs.” The way she said that last bit had me tilting my head in question.

“What kind of?—”

“So, anyway, Clyde’s harmless, aside from the threat of wetting your pants. And not everyone can see him either, so that’s interesting.” Willow gave me a considering look.

“Is it?”

“It is. Do you see anything else?”

I blanched, uncertain how the conversation had taken such a turn. This morning was turning out to be a roller coaster— for a lot of reasons —and I was more than ready to hide in my cottage and lay on the fuzzy shag carpeting for the rest of the day, trying to process the series of events that had happened in quick succession.

“Um.” I shrugged, noncommittal. “It’s hard to say, right? Like, I sometimes think that I might, out of the corner of my eye, but it’s always from afar. So it could just be, you know, a wisp of fog or something. Scotland is moody and dreamy in that way.”

“Well, there are definitely ghosts here.” Willow said it so plainly and cheerfully, as though she was commenting on the weather, that I just raised both my eyebrows at her. What was I supposed to say to that? Her laugh trilled, and she shook her head, wiggling her fingers at a cat that had just appeared at the door. “This is Calvin. He’s my sweet angel, aren’t you, baby?”

Calvin prowled closer, swiping under Willow’s hand, before coming over to bump his head against my calf. Pleased with the attention, I bent and scratched the backs of his ears. When he glanced up, and tawny eyes held mine for longer than usual, I paused. Something tugged inside me, a knowing, like the same feeling I experienced when I looked at the island in Loch Mirren.

“Brap,” Calvin half-meowed, half-purred, and jumped on my lap, settling in. Soon his little paws were digging in my thigh as I stroked his back, and I slowly relaxed into the soft leather of the chair.

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Willow asked, maternal pride in her voice.

“Really such a sweetie,” I agreed. I nodded at the tote at my feet. “In the interest of not disturbing such a sweet boy, if you want to reach in my bag … there are some samples of different types of chain mail. It should give you a better idea of what’s possible and the weight of the material.”

“Eeek.” Willow clapped her hands and dug in my bag while I stroked Calvin’s soft fur.

You’re one of us.

I blinked down at the cat, a shiver dancing down my back. It was almost like he was speaking to me. The words formed in my mind, with such a stark clarity, that my breath caught in my throat.

That was odd.

“Oh, Kaia. These are so cool.” Willow held up the rectangles of chain mail I’d made, each with varying sized links. “But they do look super time intensive.”

“It’s repetitive work, to be sure. I do find it soothing though.” I tore my eyes away from Calvin, shaking off my thoughts of animals talking, and focused back on the conversation. “The finer chain mail takes longer, as the links are more intricate and require more time to hook together. You’d just have to price your pieces higher if you use that one.”

“Hmm.” Willow stood and walked to the mirror, pulling her pink sweater over her head and tossing it aside. Beneath she wore a simple fitted black tank. Holding the chain mail to her breast, she twisted and turned. “You know, I think the chunkier links look cooler. Almost has a steam punk feel to it.”

“What are you thinking?”

Willow crossed the room and grabbed a sketchbook, flipping through the pages before coming to my side. “See?”

The sketches showed women wearing simple T-shirts or tanks, with a few chain mail tops thrown loosely over the top of their shirts. One was in the style of a cropped tank, hanging loose over the white T-shirt. Another was in the style of a vest. A third was simply a body chain of sorts, chunky and edgier.

“That body chain is cool. You could throw it over a floral dress and edge it up.”

“Yes!” Willow exclaimed. “That’s what I was thinking. Mixing hard with soft.”

“It’s a unique idea. Depending on how many you want, it wouldn’t be super time intensive. The real work that comes with chain mail is when you’re making massive protective garments with it. But with these, since they’re smaller and just a throw on over your clothes, the time would be far less. Particularly if you choose a larger link.”

“Can you mock these three up for me? For a fee, of course. Not for free.”

“Of course, no problem. I’ll just need sizing and design requirements.” Considering the vest style, I tilted my head as I thought. “And maybe for the vest, I’d like to do it in pieces so we could put the final product together ourselves? That way I won’t accidentally follow the pattern wrong. I’m good at what I do, Willow, but I’m not a clothing designer.”

“That’s totally fine. Let me get you some measurements. I’ll break them down into sections, and then we’ll go from there?” Willow asked, excitement on her face.

“Perfect.”

“And your price?”

I’d priced it out, considering my time and supplies, and then discounted it as she was a new customer. Quoting it, my stomach dropped when Willow frowned.

“That seems low.”

“Oh.” Relief filled me. “You’re a new client. I wanted to offer an introductory discount.”

“Nope.” Willow shook her head. “I work for myself too, Kaia. You can’t undercut just to get clients. It will only catch up to you. I’m happy to pay a fair price for good craftsmanship.”

“Thank you.” I wanted to protest more, but I still had to make a living. Especially now that my income could be thwarted by working together with Thane. Why hadn’t I asked what differences would be made to the invoicing?

Willow beamed at me and returned to her chair.

“Now that business is concluded, why don’t you tell me what’s going on with tall, dark, and grumpy out there?”

“Nothing.” The word came fast and hard and Willow pressed her lips together, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

“Because it really looked like you were stuck to him like a barnacle on a ship.” Willow idly examined a nail, painted a brilliant tangerine.

“I wasn’t … it’s not …” I focused on petting Calvin like he’d be the lifeline that I needed to get out of this conversation.

“It’s complicated?” Willow supplied.

“Exactly that.” I kneaded my fingers in Calvin’s soft fur, and he looked up at me again. “And I work with him now, so that’s not a line to be crossed.”

“Or is it?” When I looked up, my mouth dropping open at Willow’s statement, she made a delightful purring sound. “Ramsay and I work together. And let me tell you … that forced proximity can be … delicious.”

“Or make you lose your job,” I grumbled, and Willow’s eyebrows winged up.

“Oh no. Bad experience?”

“Pretty much. I was super gullible. I don’t plan to put myself in the same position in the future.”

Calvin shifted and jumped down from my lap, plodding over to Willow and bumping his head against her shin. She looked down at him and then up at me.

“Not to change the subject, but Calvin informs me we have bigger things to focus on at the moment.”

“Does he?” Amused, but relieved about the subject change, I relaxed.

“He does. So … not entirely sure where to begin, but I think you’re here for other reasons than you may think.” Willow looked up, her expression serious, and I glanced from her face to the cat.

“He told you that?”

“We know one of ours when we meet her.” Startled, I glanced at the woman who had just spoken. Sophie MacKnight, owner of MacAlpine Castle, stood in the doorway.

“One of yours?” I looked between Willow and Sophie.

“Fancy some lunch? We’ve got a lot to talk about…”

An hour later, I was sitting across from Willow and Sophie, my mouth hanging open.

Hilda, the caretaker of MacAlpine Castle, a woman with a scarily efficient air and a fiercely protective nature, refilled our tea while her husband, Archie, glowered at me from where he sat by the window tying flies for his fishing trips. I wasn’t entirely sure if Archie was glowering at me because he thought I was slow to understand what Sophie was explaining to me, or if that was just his normal countenance. Either way, I needed to get up to speed. And fast, it seemed.

“The Order of Caledonia is made up of an enchanted group of people whose bloodlines run through Loren Brae. As descendants of prior members of the Order, we, too, can tap into our magick.” Sophie held my eyes while I squirmed in my seat. What she said both made me feel uncomfortable and intrigued me. Magick. Real magick?

“It’s wild,” Willow said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But it’s also an honor. Loren Brae needs our help to protect the Stone of Truth, and we’re certain you’re meant to join the Order.”

“Me?” My voice might have squeaked a bit.

“Yes, you,” Archie said with a snort. He leveled me a look under shaggy brows. “Is there any reason you doubt your ability to be a strong woman who can protect Loren Brae?”

The way he said it, as a challenge, had my blood heating, and my impulsiveness rose to the surface.

“I know I’m strong enough.” This time I was the one who tossed my hair and straightened my shoulders.

“Thatta girl.” Archie winked, and it felt like I’d won a prize.

I just wasn’t sure if it was a prize I wanted yet.