Stolen By The Scottish Rogue (Kilts & Kisses 2)

Chapter 1

Malcolm

She belongs to another man.

…I don’t care.

I watch her walk along the shore towards the docks, and beyond that, the leisure yacht she’ll be married on, and my jaw clenches. My muscles tense, blood rushing through my veins as the anger simmers just under the surface. Her lily-white dress blows effortlessly in the sea breeze, whipping gently around her, swirling like mist.

Today is Ailith Pembrose’s wedding day. I’m not the groom, but if we’re being honest, that isn’t actually a concern of mine. Not as my eyes lock, not as my heart beats a little faster just watching her. Not when my cock swells thick as steel under my kilt.

No, I’m not the groom today, but that isn’t going to stop me. Her being betrothed to another doesn’t slow me as I start to walk, one foot in front of the other, ready to do what I know I must. I’d say I planned for this, but, that’s not true at all. I’m not a planner, just a man of action. And today, there will be action.

Today, Ailith will be mine.

When I first laid eyes on her those weeks before at my good friend Hamish’s wedding, it was like the world stopped moving for a moment. It was like a stillness came over me, my entire soul locking on to her as everything else faded to nothing. My finding her was like a storm cloud racing over the horizon. And today, I’m about to crash right into her shore.

I saw her. I wanted her. And I knew she’d be mine. I knew I’d launch a thousand ships for her. I knew I’d give up my titles, and my lands. I’d start a war. I’d go back to war in the Holy Lands—a place I swore I’d never go back to—for her. I knew I’d move Heaven and storm Hell for Ailith. And now, my mind has been made up, consequences be damned.

She belongs to another man, and I do. Not. Care. I wouldn’t care if her husband-to-be was the second coming Himself. I wouldn’t care if it was King Richard she was promised to, or a saint. Or the fiercest warrior to have ever lived.

None of them would stop me from claiming her.

But as it happens, Lord Carlson, her betrothed, is not the man for her, and I know she knows it too. Lord Carlson is a cruel, merciless, and vile man. I’m no prince, but I’m three times the man he is on a bad day. And like I said, it wouldn’t matter if she were marrying a King or a god.

…I’d still be taking her today.

I shouldn’t even be here today. I most certainly wasn’t invited. And this “plan” if you can even call my delusional spur-of-the-moment decision of action, is a plan that could get me killed. But I’ve faced far worse.

I know its reckless. I know it might even be wrong, even if Lord Carlson is a vile shell of a man. I know this could very well start a war.

And I. Do. Not. Care.

Because when it comes to Ailith Pembrose, nothing else matters. She will be mine. She’ll be my bride. She’ll be my everything, if I have to die trying.

But first, it’s time.

I move with purpose—jaw set, hands clenched to fists, and my eyes locked onto my prize as she boards the yacht along with her friends.

She belongs to another man?

My eyes narrow as the grim smile spreads over my face.

No, she doesn’t.

Not anymore. No, she’s been mine since the moment I laid eyes on her. And today—right now, actually—I’ll be taking what’s mine.

Chapter 2

Ailith

The boat sways gently under my feet, and I take a steady breath, calming my nerves. No, it’s not the ocean swell that has my nerves in knots.

“Well, you look gorgeous.”

I arch a brow at Catriona in the mirror we’re standing in front of. Around us, white flowers and garland are strung around the cabin suite of the yacht—my friends’ doing in an effort to make this day remotely pleasant for me, and a gesture I’m certainly thankful for, even if it doesn’t help much.

It’s like putting a ribbon on a pig, as my grandmother used to say. The flowers are lovely. The dress is gorgeous. And having my friends here is doing more to keep me from breaking down than I can even put into words.

…But it doesn’t change what’s happening here today.

I take another breath, trying to force a smile to my face as I look at myself in the mirror. I’ve swallowed this pill already, now it’s just time to go through with it.

No, my nerves aren’t just the normal “wedding jitters,” as my mother kept saying as she waved off my protests and concerns. It’s that I’m about to marry a troll of a man. Lord Carlson is a business associate of my fathers. Which is basically all the information anyone might need to guess how it is I came to be betrothed to him.