Page 4 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Och, lad, you love every moment of it,” Lachlan said, topping up our glasses with a fine Islay single malt.

“Coming from the Ice Queen, can you blame me?” Munroe lifted his glass in thanks.

“The Ice Queen?” I asked, rounding the table and lining up another shot.

We were in the games room at MacAlpine Castle, a fire crackling to ward off the mid-winter chill, the promise of a home-cooked meal luring me from my shop. Hilda, the castle caretaker, and substitute mum for those who needed some extra nurturing, had badgered me into coming up for the night on the pretext that Lachlan needed more time with his friends. I suspected it was more that Hilda needed to make sure I was well fed, and frankly, why would I turn down the offer of a free meal? One less task for me to take care of, as more often than not, I’d defer to eating cold beans out of a can along with a loaf of sourdough or a meat pie in my workshop. Nutritious, filling, and requiring little effort on my part, the latter being the most important. If I could cut out one less decision in my day-to-day, I was happy to do so.

“Munroe’s mum might as well be an ice queen for all the emotion she shows,” Lachlan explained. “Could cut coal into diamonds on her frigid face.”

“Family can be tough,” I said. I would know, better than most. I pocketed another ball, to Munroe’s deep annoyance.

“Ramsay can commiserate with you on that part,”Lachlan said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He looked at ease here, man of the manor so to speak, and it fit. Even so, I’d never known him to treat anyone differently based on their bank balance or where they’d come from. Not that that ever stopped me from poking him when I thought his upper-class upbringing was showing.

“Aye, can you then? It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Munroe slid me a glance.

“I don’t dwell on it.” I shrugged one shoulder and pointed my cue at another pocket. Bending, I lined up the shot. “Nothing can be changed, so why fuss over it?”

“Is it your parents? Or other family?” Munroe asked as I was about to take my shot and I glared at him. Raising his hands in apology, he stepped out of my sight line, and I took my turn, missing by a small miscalculation. Annoyed, I looked at Lachlan who grinned.

“This is how people make friends, Ramsay. We share about our lives with each other.”

Whereas Lachlan and I had known each other since childhood, Munroe was a newer acquaintance, having only passed through Loren Brae during the summers when I was working every hour of the day to help my family make ends meet.

“Should we paint each other’s nails and talk about boys too?” I asked, not remotely interested in discussing my messed-up family dynamics.

“Oh, Matthew would be pissed if you do that without him.” Sophie, Lachlan’s partner, trailed into the room with a tray full of snacks in her arms. A stunning woman, with ample curves, an American cheerfulness that I often founddaunting, and whip-smart mind, I liked her for Lachlan. And they clearly liked each other, as their eyes heated when they met across the room. “You know how much fun he had the last time you helped him on Tinder when he was here over Christmas.”

“He has poor taste in men.” Lachlan sniffed.

Sophie threw her head back and laughed.

“As I’ve been telling him for a while now. At least you managed to snag him a good date for his holiday.”

“Of course I did. I have great taste.” Lachlan winked at Sophie as she put the tray down on a side table. Turning, she clapped her hands together and zeroed in on me.Oh shite.I knew that look in her eye.

“No,” I said, turning away from her to watch Munroe take his shot.

“But you don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet.” It came out as a whine, and I couldn’t be sure, as I wasn’t looking at her, but there may have been a foot stomp as well.

“Still, no.”

“What if I was going to ask you if you wanted a million pounds?”

“Don’t need it.”

“Everybody needs a million pounds.”

“Nope. My needs are met.” I rounded the table, thinking about my next move.

“You could donate the money to a charity of your choice. Think how much they’d love you.”

“I already donate to charities.”

“A million pounds though?”

At that, I lifted my head and sighed.

“Are you actually offering me a million pounds, Sophie?”

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