Stolen By The Scottish Rogue (Kilts & Kisses 2)

“And what was I, princess?”

Her eyes narrow.

“A pirate. A rogue.”

“Is that all?”

She glares at me. “Is that all?”

“Well, you forgot gentleman. Or rake. Or…” I frown, drumming my fingers on the wheel. “Perhaps handsome devil?”

She smiles thinly. “Well, Lord McAuley, perhaps those are all things you were.”

She stresses the past tense, and I grin, eying her.

…No woman has ever confounded me like this. No woman has ever moved me like her. Not one has ever captivated me and drawn me in like a moth to a flame. Not a one before her has had me losing my mind for her, wanting nothing more than to have her in my arms, and knowing without a doubt that that’s where she belongs.

Maybe it’s the roguish pirate in me, and a life of taking what I wanted, when I wanted. Or maybe it’s just that when it comes to Ailith Pembrose, there’ll be no compromise. No retreat. No going home empty handed.

Not since that kiss…

Two weeks ago:

Christ

I shake my head as I look around at the decorations—at the pageantry of it all.

Who would have ever thought we’d get here? Hamish Ballentyne, married. In finery, with white linens on the walls of his castle. I snort. The Hamish I know wasn’t always this… cultured. He wasn’t always this much of a gentleman. Not when we were fighting for our lives covered in blood and mud over in the Holy Land for the Crusades. Over there, it was finding a tree to take a piss on that didn’t have a Turk hiding behind it ready to slit your throat.

And now? I grin, shaking my head as I poke my head into one of Hamish’s many “guest commodes.”

…Flowers on the windowsill, a sweet-smelling tallow candle with the essence of cinnamon. Fresh linen towels.

I grin. Who the hell would have thought? But here we are—no longer men at war, but men meant to be gentleman. Lords of Scotland, with titles, and land, and castles. We’ve done our time and our tours of that hell in the desert. And the truth is, amusing or not, I’m glad that Hamish has become more of a man and less the beast we all were over there. If he can find a woman to settle down with, there’s hope for me and Callum, that’s for sure.

I need a drink.

I growl to myself as I prowl the castle. Hamish has mysteriously been missing since his bride-to-be arrived at Dungow Castle. Callum’s brushed it off, but I’m more skeptical. Or maybe just more curious. One nervous lady in waiting mentioned with a blushing face seeing Hamish heading towards the baths he has in the lower levels of the castle. “The ladies’ baths” the maid had whispered in hushed, scandalized tones.

And knowing Hamish like I do, I know full well it’s not some pretty little chambermaid he’s chasing. Not ever, but certainly not on his wedding day. And certainly not when I’m aware of his… well, obsession with the girl he’s to wed today.

Una MacKay.

I was there the day he saw her, and I swear I could watch the desire sweep over his face. I watched him see her and I watched him fall right into her.

I’m proud of him for that.

But her being newly arrived at the castle? Him being strangely seen disappearing into the women’s baths? I snort. It can only mean one thing. And while I’m sorely tempted to go down there and remind him of the rules about seeing his bride before they wed—if anything just because I enjoy taunting him like a brother—I hold back.

Let him have his day with the girl he’ll be marrying. Who am I to give a shit about that?

But while I’m truly happy for him, there’s this idea of this instant attraction that has me shaking my head. Again, I’m happy for Hamish, but “love at first sight” is not something I can wrap my own head around. There’ve been women in my life, though none for quite a while. Not since before the Crusades. But none of them in the past ever stuck though. None captivated me, or “stole my heart” as the bards and poets would say. That or they were merely after my titles and lands. And since the wars? Well, the idea of opening up to a woman, even if it’s merely opening my bed, just hasn’t appealed to me. Not in the slightest.

And besides, this instant love thing? Maybe it’s for Hamish. Perhaps even Callum someday. But it’s not for me, that I know.

I prowl down an empty hallway, my eyes locking on a door. I’ve been to Dungow a number of times. And I distinctly remember this area of the castle. Enough so that I’m confidence that I’m standing in front of the door to Hamish’s private cellars.

My smile widens.