Page 72 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Oh,” I whispered, breakfast forgotten, as I made my way to the display. Three different styles, reflecting three different eras, and my eyes drank in the details. One dress had a deep V at the waist, likely worn with a corset, and alarge, pleated silk skirt. Lace flounced at the shoulders, and tiny seed pearls had been embroidered at the neckline. How many hours…days—months?—would it have taken to hand sew all those pearls? How were they all such similar sizes and shapes? Where did they find them all back when this dress was made?

What wouldmywedding dress look like?

Where did that thought come from?

Likely because I was still working on a design to wear for the upcoming dance. I’d consulted Sophie, who had been absolutely useless when it came to attire for a cèilidh, but Hilda had stepped in and offered some suggestions. From my understanding, anything could go, but because I was who I was, I wanted to make something special. I was so used to modifying or creating my own clothes for myself, that I reasoned it wouldn’t take much to create something pretty for the dance.

Ramsay loved my body.

I think you’re mind-blowingly beautiful, and any man, or boy, who couldn’t see that needs to get their eyes checked. You’re a damn goddess. You would be at any size, because you have the personality of a fecking angel, but add in those killer curves and that damn mouth, and och, it’s enough to bring any man to his knees.

A shiver ran across my skin, and I turned away from the wedding dresses, pressing a kiss to Calvin’s head, and left the drawing room, my mind on Ramsay. I’d probably replayed his little monologue in my head far more than I’d needed to, and he’d never once mentioned my looks in any capacity since then. In fact, the more I tried to get close to him, the further he pulled back. I could read signals, and Iwasn’t the type of woman to throw myself at a man who wasn’t interested in me, so I’d fallen back into a routine of trying to make him less grumpy. So far, I hadn’t largely succeeded, but I had sensed a subtle softening in him. I’d call that a win and be happy I had a date to redirect my attention to. Not that I thought Andrew was going to be a sweeping romance or anything like that, but since the only man I currently spent all my time with barely grunted answers at me most days, a decent conversation with someone else would be a nice distraction at the very least.

And sometimes we just did things for a bit of an ego boost, didn’t we?

The reality was, I wanted Ramsay to find me desirable. It was stupid. I knew it was reckless to have these feelings for someone I worked with, let alone for Miles’s best friend. I’d already been burned by crossing lines in a professional relationship before. Adding the brother component to it? Yeah, those feelings were just plain stupid. Yet the more I spent time with Ramsay, the more I genuinely enjoyed his company, respected him as a boss, and really liked him. Not that I’d tell Miles that.

My brother had been hounding me for information about my new job, to the point where I’d threatened to block him if he didn’t let up. I’d finally brought the matter up to my father.

“Threads, he’s just worried about you.”

“Can’t he worry about something else? I’m fine. Thriving, in fact.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Be patient with Miles. He’s never been the adventurer that you have. What you do? It’s outside his comfort zone. And when he doesn’t understandsomething, he just assumes it’s the wrong way. But it’s not, I promise you. Your way is equally as good as his way. You’re both just different.”

That had stopped me in my tracks. I’d never really considered it from that angle before, that my brother worried about me not because he didn’t trust my ability to handle new experiences, necessarily, but because he wouldn’t take those same risks. My father was absolutely right. Miles was a down-home Minnesota boy who thrived in the predictable routine of darts league at the corner bar, opening day tailgating, and early summer mornings on his boat. While I enjoyed aspects of that life, I didn’t thrive there. But here? Where life was unpredictable, and the days were filled with new things and experiences? Growing knowledge and seeing an expert at his craft? I was glowing.

I wasn’t sure if it was this newfound magick, or if it was that I so enjoyed bantering designs back and forth with Ramsay, all while getting to know Loren Brae better, but I could feel my roots starting to curl into the earth here. Maybe Miles and I both enjoyed small-town life, just in different countries. It could be a connecting point, at the very least, and I made a note to try a different approach with him the next time I decided to answer one of his text messages.

“Oh, here we are.”

“Brrrp.” Calvin did one of his half-meow’s half-purrs and I ducked my head into a doorway.

“Lia? You here?”

“Yup, come on through,” Lia called, and I entered directly into a kitchen that was far more impressive than I was expecting it to be. I mean, I guess I hadn’t really muchthought about kitchens being extraordinary or not, but this one really was. Likely because it was in a badass historical castle and all, but the room was this incredible blend of both historical and modern that made my mouth drop open.

“Wow,” I said, and then motioned with Calvin in my arms. “Also, can I bring a cat in here?”

“Likely not if the health inspector came through, but I’ve got some assistance to keep this place magickly clean.” Lia beamed at me from where she whisked something in a bowl at the counter. Her hair was tied back under a bandana, and she wore a navy apron. A green grasshopper pendant sparkled from a chain around her neck.

“I’ve heard…” I glanced around. “Sophie mentioned a brownie?”

“Broonie in Scotland.” Lia came forward and scratched Calvin’s ear, the cat bumping his head against her hand. “You can put him down. Though I’m not sure if Brice likes cats or not.”

“Is that the broonie’s name?”

A soft chattering had me glancing to the corner, but I didn’t see anything out of sorts. A shiver went down the back of my neck. I mean, listen, I was doing pretty well with accepting magick, but I had no idea what to expect with a little kitchen elf. All I kept picturing was the scary trolls from an old eighties movie I’d seen back in the day that kidnapped children and ate them.

“That it is. He’s around somewhere. He’ll make himself known if he feels comfortable. Coffee?”

“Please.” I put Calvin on the floor, and he did a long stretch before wandering after Lia while I turned to take inthe room. A massive spice cabinet caught my attention, the wood worn with age, each tiny drawer labeled with the name of the spices. A double arched wood door was closed against the rain, chunky stone walls reflected the age of the castle, and music played softly in the background. It was a cozy spot, and I sat at a table with kitchen stools tucked beneath and put my bag against the wall. “Mind if I sketch while you cook? I just had this idea in a dream that I want to get down.”

“Not at all. Tell me more about it.”

“I kind of want to play with tartan vests for women but in the style of motorcycle jackets, you know? A little edgier, a little bit punk. Maybe mixed with some dark lace. I just think there’d be such a fun way to add tartan on different looks without always having to be just a kilt or just a jacket. Trimmings, accessories, hints of tartan, you know? I also really like mixing prints, and if Ramsay would be open to it, I bet we could do something really cool with tartan and flowers.”

“Like how?” Lia came over, bringing the bowl with her, and whisked while she looked over my shoulder. I swiped through some images to find where I’d designed a black and white tartan silk scarf with huge hot pink peonies plastered across it. “Oh that’s fun. Good travel scarf. Could wear it with anything, dress up or down.”

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