Mad About Plaid (The MacLaren Brothers Series 1)

Chapter 13

Don't freak out. Act normal.

Easy to say. But way harder to do. As soon as Kate looked out the window and saw the land 10,000 feet below her, the song from Braveheart wafted through her brain like a summer breeze over heather-covered hills, and she wanted to scream like a groupie at an all boy band concert.

A huge grin split her face, and she bounced a few times—discreetly, of course—in her seat.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she'd be here. And she sure as hell never thought her cousin's trip to Scotland three months ago would result in an engagement with a half Scot, ex-marine, Innkeeper.

Kate sighed. So romantic.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the last few months and the utter wreck her own life had become. Funny how things worked out. Lucy's life had risen to joyous highs as Kate's had crumbled to dust.

Just . . . crumbled.

Needing a distraction, she turned to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams. But the elderly woman kept her attention fixed solidly forward. Which might have been Kate's fault to begin with.

When she'd sat down next to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams seven or so hours prior, Kate had struck up a mostly one way conversation. Mrs. F.G.W. had learned all about Lucy's whirlwind romance, Kate's itinerary for the next two weeks, followed by her reasons for the trip, and her break up with He Who shall Not Be Named (one Holden Morten who had earned himself the name Holdenmort for good reason). After that, she might have revealed the origins of her love affair with Scotland—the discovery of Grammy Lin's cache of lusty romances and her well-loved edition of Highlander's Harlot.

After that Ms. Fitz-Grant-Williams avoided her altogether.

Which was okay because Kate brought said book with her to pass the time.

Bringing that old paperback felt like a rite of passage. She wasn't really sure why she'd brought it really. She'd been angry when she grabbed it, angry at Holden. Angry at love. Angry at the book for making her believe in heroes and happily ever afters.

Her cousin, Riley, had swiped Highlander's Harlot (affectionately dubbed, Double H) from Gram's porch swing at the age of thirteen and read it out loud to Kate and Lucy under the covers of their make-shift fort. Ever since, Kate dreamed of her own sexy Highlander with a voice potent enough to conquer worlds, and a body to rock them all.

She sighed.

Screw Holdenmort. Evil jerk.

Not that he'd ever rocked her world or loved her in that way.

But trust was trust. Friendship could be as deep and true as any other kind of love.

Kate forced away the negativity. This was going to be the best vacation of her life, damn it. It had to be because she wasn't going to settle for anything less.

Scotland and Kate, she mused, together at last.

The lovely brogue that came over the speaker to announce their landing nearly did her in. Kate

sighed again and settled back.

Fasten your seat belts, lairds and laddies, she thought with a smile, Katherine Lee Walker is about to land.

After a long drive, and some scenery that was a gazillion times more stunning than anything she'd seen in pictures, Kate arrived at Balmorie Estate and the lovely old castle/Victorian manor where the hills were green, flowers bloomed, the long loch gleamed.

The newly opened guest house was everything Lucy had said it was and more, comprised of an L-plan castle with a later Victorian era addition. It was five stories high, with peaks and gables and tall arched windows. Imposing. Grand. Gothic. Its history went back hundreds of years. The MacLaren's history went back even farther.