Page 111 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“What’s a fanny?”

“Och, lad, if you don’t know by now, well, it sounds like your dating life needs to improve.” Ramsay clasped ahand on my brother’s shoulder, while I hugged the key to my heart.

“Shut it,” Miles growled.

“And, for the record, I just want to say—your sister never needed looking after. Not only is she incredibly talented, but she’s strong, fearless, and has a great head on her shoulders. You should be proud of her.”

I blinked tears away as Miles turned to me.

“He’s right, Threads. I guess, hell, I don’t know…” Miles combed a hand through his hair. “Losing Mom made me want to keep everyone close. Like that was the only way I knew how to keep them safe.”

Now the tears did spill over, and I walked over to my brother, giving him a hug.

“I get that. You just didn’t have to be such a butthole about it,” I said, poking him in the side.

“Noted,” Miles said, wincing.

“I’m proud of you too, Threads. Your mother would have been as well,” my dad said, nodding toward the tree. “This was her favorite tree. It’s nice we can be here, all together again.”

“Can you feel her?” I asked, walking back to put my hand out to touch the bark.

“I don’t need to,” my dad said, holding his hand to his heart. “She’s always here with me.”

“I know,” I whispered, tracing her name with my finger. “That’s love, isn’t it? Something intangible woven into the fabric of our souls.”

EPILOGUE

Willow

“The builder’s coming out today,” Ramsay said, as he brought me a to-go cup of coffee in front of the castle. “We’ll see what’s what and hopefully get things sorted enough to start rebuilding the shop.”

“I hope it won’t take long,” I said, accepting the coffee and tucking Calvin under my arm as we made our way to Ramsay’s truck.

Calvin pretty much came most places with us these days, aside from the pub, and surprisingly most people didn’t seem to mind when we brought him along. Agnes particularly encouraged him joining her at the bookstore, and I often dropped him there for hours at a time. Agnes told me that cats and bookstores went hand in hand, and we’d even moved a small cat tree in there for him to lounge by the window on the mornings where he felt likeschmoozing with Agnes. I figured once we’d rebuilt the kilt shop, he’d make his way back over to us, but since Calvin very much knew his own mind, I let him tell me what he wanted to do each day.

He was our little hero, after all.

I was beginning to suspect that he was becoming Loren Brae’s cat, and he’d end up having a daily rotation of spots that he would grace with his presence.

Today he’d informed me he wanted to go to the bookstore, so I was planning to drop him there after the meeting with the builder. We’d more or less cleaned everything salvageable from the shop and had tarped the floors and exposed masonry against the elements. Surprisingly, two of the larger machines would be working with the replacement of a few parts.

A woman stood in front of the shop when we drove up, standing next to a pickup truck. Short, with a thick red braid down her back, and a canvas coat zipped against the weather, she had a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She looked like a student, with a smattering of freckles across her face, and bright blue eyes and upturned lips.

“If you’re looking for the kilt shop, we’re obviously closed.” Ramsay exited the car while I put Calvin in the back seat and followed suit.

“Och, I’m not in the market for a kilt at the moment.” The woman smiled, her voice surprisingly rich and melodious, and I realized I’d misjudged her age. She had to be closer to my age and gave me a brisk nod before turning back to Ramsay. “Clarke Construction.”

“You’rethe builder?” Ramsay wasn’t able to hide thesurprise in his voice, and I rolled my eyes as I brushed past him and held out my hand.

“I’m Willow, part-owner of the shop, and this is Ramsay. Excuse his sexism.”

“Och, not a problem at all. I’m used to it. I’m Orla Clarke.” Orla beamed up at me as we shook hands, and I felt an odd tremor of energy zip up my arm when our palms touched. Her eyes jumped to mine, speculative.

She’d felt that.

Did Miss Orla Clarke carry magick? I narrowed my eyes in thought as Ramsay stepped forward, apologizing.

“My esteemed business partner is correct, lass. That was rude of me, and I shouldn’t have expected a man to be meeting us. I apologize on behalf of my gender.” Ramsay shook her hand as well, and Orla laughed.

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