Kilted Sin (Brethren of Stone 3)

Chapter One

William Sinclair rode toward the loch, the fall wind biting at his skin. Not that the cold mattered. He had every intention of dunking himself in the near-freezing water. He liked the feeling of that bite on his flesh.

He wasn’t a masochist, but freezing water was a reminder that he was alive and well, no matter what else was happening and, recently, a great deal had happened.

For starters he’d spent nearly every piece of silver he had to his name on a piece of land in the Highlands. What little remained jingled in a pouch at his side. He was fortunate that it was already working land, fully staffed and ready to turn a profit, but this investment was still a large leap for anyone to take. He had no money to pay the house staff, or restock food, and he wouldn’t collect rents for several weeks—if he could collect them at all. They had to get a winter harvest in the ground first. His skin rippled with anxiousness just thinking about it and he kicked the horse faster.

At least he could console himself that he was doing what was best for the people who occupied the land. They would continue to have a lord to keep their jobs and homes safe and the demand for their product secure. At least that was what he hoped to do.

Helping others was the Sinclair way. His family members prided themselves on taking care of those around them, especially those not able to care for themselves.

Seeing the sparkle of water ahead, he straightened away from Hades’ neck even as he pulled off his shirt. Reaching the shoreline, he jumped out of the saddle and dropped the garment to the ground. Then, he kicked off his boots and stripped down his trousers. His horse, exceptionally well-trained, wouldn’t move until a rider was back in the saddle. The wind nipped at William’s skin and for a moment he hesitated. Perhaps jumping headlong into either freezing water or large purchases of land was not the best method for running his life. Mayhap it was time to think things through a bit more. That was the problem with being the third brother. He was always racing to keep up.

“I didn’t expect to see the moon so early in the day,” a high, clear, feminine voice called behind him.

Reaching down, he snatched up the first garment he could get his fingers around and pulled it in front of his male parts. Then he spun about to see with whom he was dealing. “I’ll have ye ken that this is a private swim.”

“Private?” a lass called from several feet away. “Since when did lochs become private?”

Will’s teeth snapped together. Dark auburn hair and vivid blue eyes met his gaze. A playful smile tugged at her full lips as a hand rested jauntily on a pair of decidedly delicious hips.

An imp.

Granted, a beautiful one, but still a saucy little woodland fairy set here to do mischief. He could tell by the sparkling look in her eye. He glanced down and realized he’d grabbed up his shirt. Damn. If it had been his pants, he would have tried to put them on. It wasn’t that he was insecure about his body but she was fully clothed while he was completely starkers. Made a man nervous. “This particular loch is located smack dab in the middle of my land. I can’t rightly recall if I own the water but I ken I own what ye’re currently standing on. That makes this private property and you,” he leveled her with a glare, “a trespasser.”

Her eyebrows lifted up as she took a few steps toward him. Her hips gave a saucy sway as she moved. “Trespasser? Is that right, my lord?” Her chin notched down as her brows lifted, making her eyes look larger. “What will you do with me, I wonder?”

He sucked in his breath. He’d spent the last several weeks helping his brother, Blair, get his shipping company up and running. He hadn’t had time for much else, besides the purchase of the land that bordered Blair’s. Belatedly, it occurred to him it had been weeks, if not months, since he’d been with a woman. And none of them had ever been as tempting as the Scottish fairy in front of him.

Her straight little nose wrinkled slightly. “Tell me you won’t hurt me, will you? With all those rippling muscles and manly shoulders.”

His gaze followed the delicate curve of her neck down to the neckline of her simple wool gown. He could see the ample curve of her breast and he willed himself to concentrate on anything else. He gave a snort. “Hurt a woman? Don’t be daft. But all the same, I’d prefer privacy. Remember, we’ve covered this already.”

She began moving toward him once again, her walk slow and hypnotic. “You know,” she started, her voice dropping low with a husky tone. “Private doesn’t have to mean alone.”

He shivered with the promise it held. Dear merciful saints. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? And where had his senses gone? Clearly they’d all rushed down to the swelling part of his body because his brain was actually considering her not-so-subtle offer. “In this case it does.” He took a step back, reaching out one hand. “If you will excuse me, Miss…” he paused, staring pointedly, waiting for her to fill in her name.

“McLaren.” She smiled sweetly as she continued to move closer. “And you are?”

“Will Sinclair.” He took another step back, his heel dipping into the freezing water. Had he actually been contemplating a swim? The cold did allow some of the blood to begin circulating back through his body and into his brain. “Now I must insist you go.”

Finally, she ceased her advance, stopping about a foot in front of him. She touched his cheek with delicate ivory fingers, skimming down his rougher skin and trailing over his neck. He forgot all about the cold, and the functioning of his mind, as his body roared with need at the touch.

“Go? But I just got here.” Her palm flattened on his chest. “Tell me, Laird Sinclair, are your holdings large? Do you have a good life here in the Highlands? Is this a place where one can make a living?”

“You’re not from here?” He managed to push out the question in a raspy voice that sounded strange to his own ears. Her touch made his muscles tighten in the most agonizing way.

She ran the flat of her hand over his nipple and he sucked in his breath as sensation tightened the muscles of his stomach. This woman was the sweetest form of torture he’d ever known. She lifted her other hand toward him and he found himself eagerly awaiting her touch, the last of his will to resist stripped away.

“Nope. I’m from Kirkaldy. Just come for a visit.” She stepped a touch closer so that he could feel her heat as she blocked part of his body from the wind.

He raised his hands to hold that tiny waist. “Who are ye visit—”

But his words were cut short as, with a mighty push, he went flying backward into the loch. His first thought was how could a woman who looked so delicate be so strong? As his body hit the

icy water, he stopped thinking at all. It was shallow enough that he had a difficult time getting his feet under him and, as he stood, he blinked the water out of his eyes. Swiping at them with his soaking shirt, he cleared them just in time to see her riding away on his horse, his pants firmly in her grasp, waving like a flag in the wind.