Page 9 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Good. Because I won’t be in Italy anyway. I’m going to Scotland.”

“Scotland?What?”

“You know, our mother’s home? Maybe I just need some time to take a pilgrimage to find my roots.” I knew that would set him off, because there was nothing Miles hated more than an unplanned and unstructured vacation. He was the type to research everything in advance and have an itinerary for the whole week. “I’m just going to wander, I think. See where the wind takes me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. At least tell me you’re staying with Gran.”

“I’m not.”

“What about Ramsay?”

“What about him? He’syourbest friend, not mine. I haven’t seen Ramsay since I was a freshman in high school.” Ramsay, my brother’s gorgeous best friend, had been over on a break from university. All of my friends instantly fell in love with the tall, strapping Scotsman with the delicious accent. Had I harbored a crush on him? Just a bit. Was I ever going to tell my brother that? Nope. Not a chance.

“Call him. He’ll take care of you.”

“Miles! For the last time, I don’t need taking care of. I’m an adult. Stop it.”

“From the way I see it?—”

“I don’t care how you see it. My gut says this is the right choice for me. I have to listen to that.”

“Do you though? Your little flashes of ‘knowing’ haven’t exactly landed you in great situations in the past.”

“Every situation is a learning opportunity. You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Especially because all you’ve done is point out my faults. And that’s not okay or fair. Tell Dad I’ll call him when I get in. And for the last time, back off, or you’ll lose me forever.”

“Lose you? God, Threads, you’re always so dramatic?—”

I ended the call on his words, rolling out the tension that had knotted my shoulders, and wheeled my bag toward the little airport store where I’d spied the capes. Perhaps some shopping would be just the therapy I needed, even though I didn’t have the budget for anything other than looking. While my salary with MacAlpine Castle was a generous one, my first paycheck was still a ways out, andall I had was the emergency ration that my father had pressed into my hands when I’d told him I was leaving.

If this all worked out, I was going to bring my dad over to Scotland, his first real vacation in years, and show him my fabulous new life.

Miles could stay home.

Sticking my nose in the air, I sailed into the shop and beamed at the woman behind the counter who welcomed me in a lovely Irish accent. I swear, it was like listening to wind chimes singing in the wind, the way theRs rolled over her words. It was one of the things that I’d loved about New York City, aside from the fashion and the hustle and bustle. Being surrounded by so many different accents and cultures had reminded me just how big the world was and how there were still so many places for me to explore.

Other shoppers came in the store, needing assistance, and I turned to the rack holding the wool capes. Lifting a corner, I ran my hand over the fabric, enjoying the weight of it, and flipping it over to see the craftsmanship. Well-made, and with a price that reflected it, I realized after a discrete glance at the tag. I’d have to draw up a design once I was in Scotland. The cape appealed to me, as someone who fluctuated between sizes, because it would be forgiving of weight gain or loss and still look stylish.

Being a plus-sized woman and wanting to look fashionable was sometimes a challenge. Not as much as it had once been, but it was partly what had driven me into the fashion industry. I wanted to design clothes that looked good on my tall, strong, Midwestern body. Built for plowing fields and surviving a famine, I’d always joked to people, even though I probably was not likely wrong. I fluctuated betweensize sixteen and twenty, depending on the label, and took great care to track down brands that supported that sizing. It made shopping a touch more difficult at times, but I loved the direction that the fashion industry was going where inclusivity was becoming more common. It just made sense, in my mind, to offer a larger range of sizes. Why cut off an entire market of people who had the money and were willing to spend it on quality made clothing?

Already, the anger from Miles’s phone call had dissipated, now that I was in my happy place surrounded by clothes, and I breathed out a sigh of relief as I returned to my baseline of cheerful and breezy. Reminding myself that Miles being overbearing was nothing unusual and came from a place of love, I checked the time on my phone and left the shop, looking for a spot to grab a coffee where I could jot down some sketches. Though I really had no idea what, specifically, I’d be designing with the kiltmaker, I loved tartan prints and had already compiled a folder of ideas that ranged from a basic kilt to a fun tartan bralette, which I likely knew would be instantly vetoed.

But that was what sketchbooks were for—dreams.

And unlike Miles, I was full of them.

I wasn’t going to listen to his doubts though.Ihad been approached for this gig.Found.Contrary to what Miles believed about me, I had talent, and this window to explore and grow was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“We’d liketo offer you an opportunity to come work with our kiltmaker to design an exclusive line of merchandise for our visitors. You had some great tartan pieces in your lastline, and your background says you have ties to Scotland.”Sophie’s words rang in my head.

And if I was honest, I already felt somehow tied to Loren Brae and Sophie’s MacAlpine Castle. Even if I had no idea why.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ramsay

“That should do it, lads.”

Munroe grinned at Lachlan and me. We’d been recruited to help move a heavy stack of timber for the new distillery into an old outbuilding near the castle that Munroe was in the process of converting. Even though he’d hired a crew of joiners to help, with the rain lashing down, it was quicker to get the timber inside when more of us were there to help.

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