Page 52 of Wild Scottish Rose

“Is this where I suggest I plow your field another night?”

I winced.

“Och, maybe you need to work on those a bit.”

“You’re right. I’ve shamed myself.” Owen hung his head, and I giggled as he stepped back. He paused, looking me up and down where I sat, legs still sprawled open. Bringing his knuckles to his mouth, he bit. “Damn it, Shona, you make it hard to walk away.”

“Then don’t.”

Damn, who was this woman?I’d been worried all night about falling for this man and now here I was practically begging him to stay and have his way with me.Hypocritical much, Shona?

Owen strode forward and captured my lips in one last searing kiss that left us both gasping for breath before he stormed from the cottage.

“Sweet dreams, lovely lady.”

“Good night, Owen.”

I stayed where I was, willing my heart rate to return to normal, as I stared at the vase of flowers he’d brought me.

A singular rose petal fell, swaying gently to the floor.

Was that a sign? That if I fell, I’d be left even more alone?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Shona

Surprisingly, I did manage to sleep even though my mind wanted to replay the sexiest kiss I’d ever had in my life. If I could pinpoint one thing about what had made the kiss so soul searing, it was the very essence of Owen. Yes, I understand that sounds weird. But there was something about Owen as a whole—his charisma, his warmth, his smarts—that lit me up inside. When he’d pulled back the curtain to reveal his vulnerabilities, well, that had just endeared him more to me. From the outside, he was like a perfect slice of cake, and telling me about his issues with his family was like turning the cake around and seeing someone had stuck their finger in the icing. It soothed me, understanding that he was just as real and human as the rest of us, and because of that, I’d felt much more connected to him.

And yet I hadn’t given him the same back, had I?

It burned in my gut, having this newfound knowledge of my magick, and not being able to share it with someone that I was developing feelings for. I couldn’t blame Agnes for wanting to protect Loren Brae, and me, from an outsider. It still didn’t make me feel great.

That being said, I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my magick, except for those already in the know, so it wasn’t like I was just keeping it from Owen. It was hard, this whole living in your truth thing. Particularly when you discover your truth is far outside what most people can accept as normal.

“Normal is boring,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped inside the greenhouse to find Gnorman holding the felted hedgehog toy over his head. I opened my mouth to yell at him.

“Go long!” Gnorman shouted and Eugene raced to the other side of the greenhouse, which, in my opinion, was overly optimistic for Gnorman’s throwing capabilities. This wasn’t me being size-ist, by the way. This was me beingsexistabout men and how they liked to think they were the next great rugby player who could launch a ball a gazillion yards.

Gnorman threw the toy, and much like I’d expected, it flew a few feet in front of him, not reaching the other side of the greenhouse by any stretch of the imagination. Eugene, undeterred, scuttled back across the greenhouse and snatched it up, depositing it back in front of Gnorman like a puppy playing fetch.

“Quite the throw there, G.”

“The toy is not aerodynamic,” Gnorman grumbled,glaring up at me. “You can hardly expect me to throw something as awkwardly shaped as this.”

Eugene tottered over to me and put his little paws on my boot. Bending over, I scooped him up and scratched his belly until he was writhing in joy.

“How’s the army today, G?”

“Are you hard of hearing, lass? I’ve told you my name is Gnorman.”

“Is there or is there not a G in the spelling?”

“It’s silent.” Gnorman slammed his boot on the ground, his kilt flapping with the motion, and I bit back a smile.

“If you work on your attitude, I’ll work on mine.” I carried Eugene over to the tomato plants and let him select the perfect cherry tomato. Seriously, could he be any cuter? The wonderment that crossed his wee face when he held the tomato up was enough to make me pledge to take care of the wee lad forever. Bending, I put him by his nest so he could enjoy his snack.

“I don’t have an attitude.” Gnorman followed me. “I’m a gnome. This is just our personality. It’s known as our resting gnome face.”

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