Page 30 of Wild Scottish Fortune

I tapped his arm lightly.

“Permission to disembark, sir,” I said, keeping my tone light, but needing to remind him he was holding me off the ground. On my own worksite of all things.

“Och, right. I’m sorry. Shite, I really have made a habit of grabbing you, haven’t I? I’m sorry for it, Orla. I’ll try to do better.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to placate him or tell him that I didn’t mind, even when I didn’t really mind all that much. Which was a thought to be examined later, as usually I was a stickler for appropriate workplace interactions. It’s why I had women who enjoyed working on my crew as well. They knew that I ran a tight ship, and the men who worked with us respected the rules, just as the women weren’t allowed to harass the men. Construction sites were notorious for lewd talk, but my workers kept it respectful with each other. It was a point I prided myself on. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Incredible.” Finlay’s face was alight with joy, as he searched the trees that lined the back of the building. “Absolutely incredible. I can’t believe it. Surely that wasn’t real.”

“She seemed pretty real, dinnae she?” I pulled my eyes away from his handsome face and forced myself to steady my breathing. A unicorn and being held by Finlay? It was senses overload for this girl, that was for sure.

“I wonder what it means. If anything. Should we not be building here? Was it a warning? What if this is her habitat and we’re ruining it?”

“Och, that’s not the feeling I got,” I said, tilting my head as I considered it. “It felt…soothing. Like she approved, or something. And we’re not building all that much, are we? We’re using what’s existing here, with a slight extension. It’s not like we’re developers taking down the forest or something.”

“True, true,” Finlay murmured, hands in his pockets. He shook his head. “Just absolutely incredible.”

“Aye.” We stood in silence for a moment longer, and then I shifted, knowing I was needed back inside. “Well, I should crack on.”

“Right, of course.”

It felt weird, to just walk away from him, after a moment like we’d just had, but I didn’t know what else to do.

I fist-bumped his arm lightly.

“Well done,” I said, and then turned abruptly and stalked away, silently berating myself.Well done?What the hell did that even mean?Andthiswas why I didn’t make much time for dating. I was catastrophically awkward, even at the most mundane of times, and apparently, more so, in epic moments.

I’d punched his arm.Well done?

“Well done” what, exactly? “Well done” on spotting a freaking unicorn?

Och, I was going to be kicking myself all day for that one.

“Orla, any decision on the window?” Derrick called to me from the stockroom, and I forced myself back into work mode, grateful for the diversion.

Well done, indeed.

CHAPTER TEN

Orla

The Auld Mill property was beautiful, just as Derrick had mentioned, and I leaned against my lorry and studied the building for a moment, assessing the situation. Situated on the banks of Loch Mirren, the cream stone building jutted out from the land, a small waterwheel attached to the side of the building where a burn flowed to the loch. Green hills, alight with the first wash of spring, hovered over the mill, strong sentinels ever on watch. Loch Mirren itself lay flat, hardly a ripple in her glass-like surface, and I was drawn to her shores to look out toward the small island that held one of the most powerful items in the world.

Icy cold gripped me, like a frozen corpse scratching at my heart, and I gasped for breath, whirling to look at the building. A shadow shifted in the bottom window, eviloozing out, like an oily blackness slipping across the uneven ground toward my feet. I froze, caught in the hold of whatever darkness seeped toward me, and it was only because of this being’s stealthy power that I missed the shrieking behind me.

It was too late.

I was just too late.

An icy wall smashed into me, water crashing over my head, the force of the power thundering over me and dragging me into the frigid waters of Loch Mirren. I had one moment to gasp for breath before I was tumbled under the waves and tossed about, like a sock in a washing machine, and held under.

I wasn’t sure if it was the icy water or the fact that I couldn’t swim, but for some reason, I didn’t fight. Instead, acceptance filled me as I was tossed about in the water, drifting into darkness, my body going numb as my need for air began to tighten my lungs. Blinking my eyes open, I strained to see through salty murky water, trying to gauge which way was up. Kicking out, flailing, my head popped briefly onto the surface, and I gasped for air just as another wave careened over my head.

But not before a pirate loomed, riding the wave toward me, his hand outstretched.

Surely I was hallucinating from lack of air and sheer panic.

In fact, seeing a pirate ride a wave, his mustache billowing in the wind, forced a giggle out of my lips, and for the fun of it—I put my hand out to him.

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