A Good Scot is Hard to Find (Something About a Highlander Book 2)

by Angeline Fortin

He only shook his head, his thumb sweeping along her cheek as he cradled her face in his hands. “Aye, I suppose ye’re all those things. I would even add to it a touch of arrogance, willfulness, and pure cheekiness. Nae one is perfect, mo chridhe. No’ ye, no’ I. ’Tis those things that challenge me and excite me. Ye may verra well drive me to an early grave and I ken, nae day with ye will be mundane. It will be a life worth sharing with ye, nevertheless. A perfect life. Because ye are perfect in my eyes.” He ran a hand down her shoulder. His fingers curled around to trace her shoulder blade while his hazel eyes held hers, soft and sincere. “Ye are enough, mo chridhe. More than enough. Never doubt that and that I love ye.”

  “Oh Finn!” He’d seen her tattoo only briefly and still managed to intuit the meaning behind it. How had she ever been so lucky to find a man like him? She hugged him and laid her cheek against his chest to hide the tears in her eyes. Gah, she’d have to work on these tears. It was so unlike her. Then again, so was feeling so many emotions. Every single one of them flooded the confines of her heart and overflowed. Brash and bold were falling away to reveal a different person inside.

  A better person. It seemed she’d changed for a man after all.

  A tender embrace enfolded her, holding her close. His heart beat strong and steady. So wonderfully alive. As was she.

  “Someone once told me that each day is like a glass of whisky.” Slipping a hand under the gap at the front of his shirt, Aila relished the warmth of his skin and the solid beat of his heart. “To be savored and enjoyed. I plan on doing that with each moment I have with ye.”

  “We will savor them together,” he whispered against her hair. His hands stroked down her back and up again, firm and strong. “Ye ken, I have yet to sleep an entire night through with ye in my arms? I want to wake with ye just like this. Tomorrow morning and every one to come.”

  Nothing would please her more. “I’ll be happy to sleep in while ye take Rab out then. Ouch!”

  His hand landed with a smack against her bottom. When she looked up, he was smiling broadly. Tiny laugh lines flared from the corners of his eyes while amusement and affection danced within. The sight would never cease to warm her, arouse her.

  How far they’d come from the Frown of Fury. From wariness and smothered anger. Not for each other, but for the respective pasts that had held them in their thrall. There would be no more of that. Only love, laughter and smiles. She would have a lifetime filled with them if she had anything to say about it.

  “Ye think ye’re amusing?”

  Aila pursed her lips and considered it. “Damn right, I do. And ye do, too.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “Ye presume to ken what I’m thinking?”

  “Aye.”

  Finn grunted, low and sexy. “What am I thinking now then, ye vixen?”

  “Och, and I thought ye might have something harder for me.”

  She laughed when his powerful arms lifted her and pulled her over him. His mouth met hers, seizing her lips for a slow, deep kiss. “I’ve got something hard for ye, mo chridhe.”

  “I dinnae want to hurt ye.”

  “Never.”

  Finn kissed her again, catching her thighs and drawing them up close to his hips so she could straddle him. Aila flung her hair back and wiggled her hips. “Ye do ken I meant hard as in difficult, aye?”

  “I ken ye’re being difficult right now.” His brogue was thick and hungry. “Mo chridhe, come here.”

  “What does that mean? Mo chridhe?”

  “‘My heart.’ ’Tis yers, lass. Forever.”

  “I will keep it safe, Finn. I promise.”

  “As I will keep yers.”

  Epilogue

  Rossmore Castle

  Elgin, Scotland

  October 1, 1748

  With a little help from Donell’s technical wonder, they managed to relocate to Finn’s half-crumbled castle two days later. Niall and Effie hadn’t even been aware of most of the transfer. They’d agreed to move them while they were sleeping. The secret would keep until there came a time when the future was something they planned to share with the children. Aila was confident that day would never come. Come what may, her life was with Finn now.

  She’d returned to explain to Violet why she wouldn’t be returning: her elopement with the handsome stranger Donell had set her up with. A man who lived far, far away. With one last hug and having given the older woman her love, she’d made the break with a clear mind. She would have given up the time travel device to prove her commitment to their version of the future.

  It was Finn who’d convinced her to keep it — just in case.

  Aila let him have his way. In that one tiny thing….

  As for the treasure, it had also been relocated. Among Elliot’s effects when he’d arrived at the prison was a battered letter dated from the turn of the century detailing the contents of the vault of gold and riches and how the fortune had been stolen from a series of French frigates on their way to Scotland. French support had been crucial for the Stuart exile in the years between the Glorious Revolution of 1688, when King James II was deposed in favor of William and Mary, and 1701 when the French diverted their funds to their efforts in the War of the Spanish Succession.

  It was to have been transferred to King George’s coffers prior to the first duke’s untimely demise. Instead, its location had been lost to time — to everyone except Boyce.

  Since the money could no longer go toward the cause for which it was intended, everyone thought it fitting that it be distributed among the Scotsmen who had fought for their cause and for those who would suffer in its aftermath. They would play Robin Hood against the English king.

  A far more noble cause than revenge.

  And Aila’s life was far more like a fairy tale than she ever would have imagined. She almost believed in them now. Rossmore fit in nicely as the perfect setting despite the damage to the north of the castle. The view over the firth was lovely, as were the grounds where they would build their future home together. One that would last for as many generations in the future as the castle had for generations past. The long drive to the south was shaded by dozens of towering trees, branches woven together to form a picturesque canopy of vivid autumn color.

  The children ran circles around the trees with Rab chasing after them. Their whoops — and howls — of joy reverberating back to him. They were glad to be home.

  As was Finn. For Aila, it would soon become hers. With her family.

  With her love.

  Finn stood under the umbrella of trees watching the children play. Having set the past free and embraced their future together, he’d become far more lighthearted. His heart-stopping smiles more ready. That wasn’t all that stopped her heart today. In open defiance of the law, he wore a kilt. She’d been right about him looking magnificent in one. He’d promised her a detailed demonstration of how to get around taking it off. Unfortunately, it would have to wait.

  Aila joined him and Finn slipped an arm around her waist as a fine carriage rumbled up the drive. “There’s Ian at last.”

  A few minutes later, the vehicle came to a stop close by. Ian opened the door and jumped down to greet his friend with a hug and a brilliant smile. “Glad to see ye won her! I wisnae certain ye would.”

  He turned back to the carriage door and extended his hand.

  Oh, aye…. They’d done one other thing in that time.

  A gorgeous young woman with dark auburn hair descended the carriage. Ian looked at her like she’d hung the moon. “Aila, I’d like ye to meet my bonny wife, Fiona.”

  Fiona smiled, then blinked in surprise. “Why, I know you! Ian, this is the woman who came to Raven’s Craig to warn us about the attack from the firth. Oh, my dear, I owe you my life!”

  She hugged Aila long and hard while Ian protested. “There’s nae way Aila could have been the one.”

  His wife ignored him, and Aila offered him a shrug and a smile over her shoulder. So, they’d worked a little magic. Aila — and Finn,
as he’d insisted he retain the memory of the event for himself — had traveled back to the day of the attack on Raven’s Craig Castle from the English ship on the Firth of Forth. Fiona and Ian’s parents had been spared the sudden and painful death they’d once suffered. To the MacKintosh clan, the events had been seamless with no recollection of the tragedy that had befallen them. Which was not to say that Ian hated the English any less. He did, and perhaps always would.

  As would many Scots for generations to come.

  There wasn’t anything she could do to change that.

  * * *

  “And that’s it,” Aila finished her heavily edited retelling of the story for Fiona as they sat around the table following supper that evening.

  “Such a tale! You have a way of telling it that gives me chills,” she declared.

  “Aila’s talented that way,” Ian assured her as he sipped a moderate amount of his whisky.

  “And the stag? The motto?” Fiona offered a heartfelt sigh.. “Why, it’s almost as if Fate knew you would be there to solve the mystery, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, it is.” With a secret smile, Aila snuggled against Finn’s chest and smiled at Brontë who was similarly ensconced in Tris’s embrace. Evil had tried to have its way many a time. Looking around the table, she knew love would always win out in the end.

  Ian lifted his glass to Finn. “Naming the millstone the Blàr an Buie to honor the elder Boyce’s sacrifice was a nice touch.”

  “He deserves some recognition,” Finn said. “The truth Mr. Boyce spoke of wisnae the truth of who poisoned the millstone and by extension killed him. Rather it was Derne’s exceedingly huge secret that was kept in there with the treasure.”

  They’d fudged a bit on the nature of Derne’s objective for Fiona and Ian’s sake. The device must have mystified the first duke, but he was smart enough to hide it away from Derne to assure that he was never able to flee his misdeeds completely. A life sentence, so to speak. He’d deserved it.

  “I’d never thought Sassenachs were capable of such subterfuge.” Ian’s lip curled. “And I ken they’re capable of many atrocious things. What is their endgame, though? Whoever it is that commands these men maun have a goal in mind.”

  “There is only one person I can think of who would ken,” Aila said bitterly. “I’ll wager I’ll no’ see his face for a good long time.”

  “That’s where ye’d be wrong, lass.”

  Everyone jumped at the interruption. Aila and Brontë rolled their eyes while Tris outright groaned at the sight of the auld man. Rab leapt up from his spot at Aila’s side and went to greet him, tail wagging, and she inwardly fumed.

  “Donell?” Finn and Ian exclaimed in unison.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Brontë muttered under her breath. No matter where he went, the old man always seemed to be well known by all the players in his games. She shot Donell a dark stare. “Before another word is said, I’m going to need you to stay away from my grandmother. Fair warning.”

  “I willnae bother ye for long,” Donell answered with a smirk and a wink that provided no assurance at all. “I merely wanted to say job well done. Ye’ve exceeded my expectations for ye, lass.” He turned to Aila with that last compliment. She only recalled Rab to her side and glowered at the old man, which prompted him to add, “Have ye nothing to say, lass?”

  “Such as?”

  “A word of thanks mayhap?”

  Aila gaped at the old man wondering where he summoned the nerve. “Ye set me up and almost got me killed…twice! Ye expect me to thank ye? Ye’re lucky ye’re no’ getting skelped right now.”

  He took off his flat cap and scratched his balding head as he looked around the table. “It provides comfort for my battered heart to see such love in abundance, same as that I’ve kent before. My dear wife would approve of my efforts, even if ye dinnae.”

  “I’ll no’ thank ye, ye auld bampot!” The steam went out of Aila as the extent of his admission and its implications soaked in. “Ye’re saying stopping Derne wisnae the whole point of this exercise?”

  Donell shook his head. “Despite his grandeur, Derne had already failed to achieve his goals. I merely needed to be assured that he would be unable to do more harm.”

  Violet had claimed Donell was something of a matchmaker. Was it truly possible that all his mechanizations were more than thoughtless manipulation and that he’d intended for her to find love with Finn despite the pitfalls along the way? How could she resent him now?

  “What sort of harm?” Finn asked. “Who is behind all of this?”

  The old man’s gaze moved from Ian to Fiona and back again pointedly. “That is a conversation for another time, I’m afraid.” He held up a hand to forestall any argument. “It will come, I promise ye. For now, I’ve come only to assure myself that ye’re content wi’ the outcome of yer adventure and to toast to yer success.”

  He withdrew the Lalique bottle of Macallan they had sampled in his shop. Aila ran her palms down her cheeks. Gah, now she really couldn’t hold a grudge, could she? The wily auld man. He did know how to play people.

  “I’m no’ saying I forgive ye for what ye did,” she said as he poured a round for them all. “I’ll only say I dinnae regret coming into yer whisky shop that day.”

  Donell beamed at her as though she’d buttered him up with the thick layer of praise. He lifted his glass in her direction. “Why, thank ye, lassie. That means a lot coming from ye.”

  Everyone around the table laughed and after a moment, Aila joined them.

  “And just so we’re clear, I’m keeping the dog.”

  Also Available by Angeline Fortin

  The Something About a Highlander Series:

  A Scot to Remember

  Coming Soon: A Scot Worth Having

  The Laird for All Time Series:

  A Laird for All Time

  A Time & Place for Every Laird

  Taken: A Laird for All Time Novel

  Love in the Time of a Highland Laird

  A Laird to Hold

  Other Time Travel Romance:

  Nothing But Time

  My Heart’s in the Highlands

  The Questions for a Highlander Series:

  A Question of Love

  A Question of Trust

  A Question of Lust

  The Perfect Question

  A Question for Harry

  A Question Worth Asking

  A Question for the Ages

  Regency Romance

  Once Again, My Love ~ A Tale of Pride & Penitence

  Short Stories:

  In the Holiday Spirit in Spirits of the Season anthology

  The Leap in Romancing the Lakes of Minnesota~Autumn

  Alone with the Devil in Romancing the Lakes of Minnesota~Winter

  A Three Night Stand in Romancing the Lakes of Minnesota~Summer

  Author’s Notes

  Thank you for reading A Good Scot is Hard to Find. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  While success for me personally is measured in bringing you joy, a moment of emotion, and escape from the hectic thing that is life, it is also measured by the quality and quantity of the reviews my books receive. They don’t just help other readers decide to spend their time and money on a book, they help me, too. I read each review that is posted. I take what you say to heart and use it to improve and grow.

  If you would take a few minutes of your time to leave a review, I’d be grateful.

  Oscar Wilde wrote in The Importance of Being Earnest, “The very essence of romance is uncertainty.” Aila Marshall might be the first heroine I’ve written who embraced that philosophy fully. A life filled with baggage has left her with more anxiety than most of them, but I believe it makes her one of the most human. I have loved writing her and hope, as Aila herself would, that you too love her, flaws and all.

  Yes, Auld Donell is a major player in my time travel series. Yes, I know his vision is vague, but intentionally so. A brief recap: It was
revealed in the Laird for All Time series that in Donell’s time, somewhere far in the future, a ruthless regime would rise, and with the aid of Donell’s time travel technology, attempt to rewrite history to suit their needs. Donell takes it upon himself to change a few things to prevent those cataclysmic events. In the process, he wrote out of history the lives of both his wife and his daughter. His sacrifice was for the greater good of the world, one he could find no way to avoid. His son-in-law, known as Jameson, becomes the antagonist in his attempts to undo Donell’s work and regain what was lost. In the finale of the series, it is revealed that Hugh and Claire’s daughter was the beginning of the rebellion that would bring down the regime.

  At the end of A Scot to Remember, he references Martin Luther King Jr.’s quote, “Darkness cannae drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannae drive out hate; only love can do that.” Realizing that removing a figurehead from play cannot remove the evil that has destroyed his world, he launches his new endeavor to put into place a countermovement of opposite ideals. His plan is to manipulate history to raise forces of hope to bring about the change the world needs.

  More details will be forthcoming in future installments of this series.

  But in the end, I feel these stories are not truly about Donell and his goals. They are about the romance and placing it within the rich history of Scotland.

  The history surrounding the Jacobite rebellion is some of the most compelling I’ve ever studied. Not merely the battle at Culloden itself, but the years following. Though I don’t want to bore you with details of the events following the battle, it would be unfair to history not to mention the effect those events would have. The Clearances irreparably changed the landscape of Scotland, the economy and the people. They sparked the emigration of thousands to Ireland and America in search of a better life, or perhaps the hope of retaining some of the life they’d lost. My ancestors were some of those people who fled the country during that time, as were my husband’s.