Scottish Seducer: Opposites Attract: Jane Austin fangirl and the Scottish Billionaire (Steel Series Book 6)

by Victoria Pinder

  And he kissed me.

  I forgot we weren’t alone for a moment and hoped to stay in his arms, but a loud whistle caught my attention and I hopped out.

  Charlie followed, and we all crowded into the store. Happily, the jeweler was prepared for a large party, and set it up so we could all study the rings.

  Amelia handed me a diamond ring to try. It was more a statement ring now, but my heart beat faster.

  I put it on, and Sophia said, “Stephanie, it’s gorgeous.”

  Technically, it wasn’t an engagement ring, but I met my friend’s interest and said, “I do actually like the Georgian collar mount with all those Regency details.”

  Amelia took the original, simple Jane Austen ring back as she said, “So not a turquoise?”

  Statement versus understated and more unique to me. I tried to take the diamond off my hand and said, “Diamonds are good, though I like the simple Bluebird turquoise, too.”

  “We’ll take them both,” Charlie told the jeweler.

  I glanced back at the sweetest man ever and asked, “We will?”

  He shrugged and asked, “Why not? You should have what you like.”

  It was now my turn to show him I wasn’t here for his money. I leaned closer and whispered, “No. I don’t want you to spend more money.”

  Sophia patted my shoulder, and I turned to my friend, who said, “Stephanie, we flew here in a helicopter and get to lounge around Royal Crescent with rooms that have unlimited spa access and we’re going on the Hidden Gardens of Bath tour as a private group. Take the ring.”

  I pivoted and met his gaze. “Charlie…”

  “Your friend is right.” He kissed the back of my hand and said, “Besides, I owe you something nice as an apology.”

  Guess we were both still new at this whole “being in love” thing. I gave him a great big smile and said, “Wearing that costume with the tartan cravat you bought for me at the ten-day Bath experience next year will be enough.”

  Logan opened the door for us to depart and said, “Tell me you’re not making my brother a bloody English bore.”

  Charlie slipped the statement ring on my finger and we headed out. This time, we walked to the hotel, which took about fifteen minutes. The streets weren’t jam-packed with people in costume, but it didn’t matter. I walked in the park with Charlie as I replied to Logan while also telling my friends, “No. We agreed to a Gretna Green wedding, in Scotland, and to go to the Highland Games.”

  Logan spoke to Charlotte, but meant all of us. “Where you and your friends and entire family will stay in my home for as long as the celebrations last.”

  My pulse spiked because I’d imagined our wedding night might be in the Intelligent Cat, where we stayed the day we met, though it was way too small to host a party. That night, though, Charlie had let slip he felt crowded at his brother’s, so I said, “We can’t impose.”

  Logan replied, “I have forty-seven bedrooms. Believe me, it’s no imposition.”

  Okay. He had enough room. I tilted my head to indicate I’d walk a little behind everyone and said, “Charlie, can we talk?”

  We let the others go ahead of us, and he said, “Yes?”

  I cupped the face of the best man I ever met and told him, “I only want to agree to what you’re comfortable with.”

  He kissed my cheek. “I want us both to be happy, and for our worlds to stay connected.”

  I did a little jig as my heart beat wildly. “You’re sure?”

  He held my waist and lowered his mouth to a whisper away from mine. “Well, that and sex at least once a day, though probably more.”

  “Now that sounds more like you. Okay.” I peeked at him through my lashes and gave him a big kiss. I loved him and he loved me. Nothing else truly mattered, because he had my heart, and his kiss reinforced my love for him.

  Chapter 20

  Charlie

  Until Stephanie came into my life, tradition had never been important to me. Now I was immersed in Jane Austen and her simple world that Stephanie so enjoyed, I realized I missed the colors of my kilt. And modern pants were loose and easy compared to the stiff, starched clothes I’d worn for her events.

  Now it was our wedding day.

  Tomorrow was the start of the Highland Games, so we made a party out of it.

  My brother tucked his phone in his sporran and said, “She’s wearing the luckenbooth.”

  I’d given her the brooch months ago because as it was tradition to ensure no “evil eye” befell my bride, and today she wore the gold, engraved with our double hearts, brooch with pride.

  I straightened my tartan as we stood with the bagpipers and waited for her to step onto the Wedding Walk to walk up the small cobblestone path to the blacksmith shop doorstep.

  I asked Logan, “How do you know?”

  “I have a spy in her wedding party.”

  My brother had been closemouthed about his life since showing up in Bath. “So, you’re dating Charlotte?”

  “Do you think she’d be interested?”

  He might be titled and rich, but right now my brother sounded like an insecure teenager. I chuckled when I squeezed his arm and said, “Ask her at the reception to meet you later.”

  “Father always warned me to stay away from the British girls.”

  Since that didn’t matter anymore, I whispered. “He’s not here.”

  The bells announced that my bride was close. Logan tidied my shirt and asked, “This is the sark your Stephanie chose for you?”

  Sark was the word we used for the wedding shirt. I nodded and said, “She didn’t believe it was one of our customs until I had her look it up.”

  She not only hadn’t believed me about her needing to buy the shirt, she also didn’t believe that in Scotland the groom brought the wedding dress. I had to show her online that it was the truth.

  Logan nodded like he approved and said, “She’s conservative.”

  That wasn’t the word for her. But words escaped me totally when Stephanie appeared across the Wedding Walk cobblestone path. My chest swelled with pride that she was mine, forever now, and I grinned. The Vera Wang organza transformed her into a glowing angel. My heart pounded as she approached, though she kept her distance while her best friend Charlotte came to stand next to me. I stayed six feet back and said, “You look so beautiful.”

  I wasn’t allowed to touch her for the Wedding March, and the thrill of anticipation was a rare feeling.

  She gave me a lovely smile and said, “Thank you, mo leannan. At least you don’t have that superstition about not seeing the bride.”

  My heart melted. She’d chosen the term from my list of Scottish endearments that meant “my lover”.

  My brother spoke to our guests as I quickly said, “I get to touch you after the ceremony. Did you put the right foot forward first?”

  She laughed and said, “Yes, and my sisters washed my feet, I am wearing the sixpence, and my brothers-in-law had fun tossing coins for the wedding scramble.”

  I also noticed the sprig of white heather in her peony and lily bouquet. I winked as my brother took her hand. “Ye’re almost Scottish, then.”

  She came down the aisle behind me for our wedding walk.

  I told Charlotte a bit about Scotland as she walked next to me so she could scout for bad omens. My brother escorted the bride in case we needed to whisk her away from any misfortune that might threaten her during our short walk to the blacksmith.

  The piper followed the bride, with our guests behind him.

  Once we made it to the doorstep, we stayed outside while friends gathered.

  I hadn’t expected to feel so strongly, but I experienced a heady rush as I waited beside her.

  The blacksmith preacher asked her the all-important question, and she said, “I do.”

  My turn. I straightened, waiting for my turn while ignoring the heartbeat pounding in my ears. At last I got to say, “I do.”

  The priest tapped the anvil and said, “You may kiss
the bride.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed.

  Finally, she was Stephanie Grannd, and no one could ever stop us from being together.

  The limo drove fast to my brother’s castle. Most of our guests were staying there with us, which was good for the old house, since normally we didn’t flip on half the lights.

  The photographer snapped tons of photos, and Logan checked to be sure the tables in the gardens were ready. He rushed back to us as the photographer took the hundredth picture and said, “The guests are all parking now.”

  No more standing around. We joined the wedding party, and I handed Stephanie some whisky for the “Loving Cup”. She laughed while she filled it, and we each took a sip. I met her warm gaze and said, “Charlotte and Logan get the first sips from the Loving Cup.”

  Logan corrected me, saying, “Quaich.”

  The two-handed silver bowl was traditionally passed around the wedding party to sip. Originally the design of the cup was of two houses joining, but I whispered to Stephanie, “He’s not used to being upstaged.”

  Once everyone was seated, Stephanie and I ate a little, but I wasn’t hungry. We kissed when people rang bells, but finally the band led by her cousin, the famous Phoenix Stone, and his wife, the equally famous Maggie Carpenter began to play.

  It was time for our Grand March, the first dance. We marched to the center with the bagpipes, but the music changed to a soft waltz my wife—yes, my wife—said would have scandalized her favorite historical figures.

  My brother escorted Charlotte onto the dance floor, followed by Stephanie’s sisters and their husbands. Then the entire wedding party and guests all danced.

  This wasn’t strictly traditional, but it was fun. As the song ended, I took her hands and said, “I haven’t met all your sisters, since Indigo only arrived last night.”

  I wanted to meet everyone. She took my hands and said, “Come, let me introduce you right now.”

  Another couple returned to their seats but jumped up to hug Stephanie and shake my hand. She said, “Georgie, Michael, this is Charlie.”

  Michael, the baseball player who was famous in America but unknown here, said, “Lovely wedding. Why did some of the guests bring their own food?”

  Yes, the family next to him had brought a picnic. I explained, “It’s an old tradition, so the bride and groom start their married life without being in debt to anyone. And they’re local clansmen. We sometimes call full weddings with bring-your-own-food a ‘penny wedding.’”

  “Interesting,” he said, right before Stephanie dragged me away.

  I knew the next man and shook his hand as I said, “Jacob, nice to meet you again.”

  Stephanie massaged my back and said, “Charlie, this is Indigo, my sister.”

  She was much darker-haired than Stephanie. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.

  “And I’ve heard about you.” I barely managed to say it before Stephanie dragged me off.

  Part of me liked how she forgot no one and charmed everyone. However, the sooner we finished, the sooner our night started. She hugged the next woman and shouted. “Ridley!” I shook Carter’s hand until Stephanie rejoined me and said, “Sorry. I’d like you meet Ridley, Carter, and Chelsea. Where is your baby?”

  Ridley hugged me as she said, “Sleeping. The nanny is with her.”

  I said quickly, “I hear your opinion made a difference.”

  Carter put his arm around his wife and said, “Ridley just wants her sister to be loved.”

  And no one said anything bad, which was good. I hadn’t enjoyed being sued, though the original deal honestly was a disaster.

  Once again, Stephanie hauled me to the next group and said, “This is Olivia and Johnny Dawes.”

  She’d once threatened to hire a hit man, but her husband was too nice to even know one, and besides, his hands were as clean as a doctors should be. I waved, “Hello, again.”

  When we reached the last couple, resplendent in their royal blue garments, I bowed as Stephanie said, “Prince Kristof and my sister, Nicole.”

  Kristof hugged me while my brother across the field tugged at his collar. I winked at Kristof, nodding my head toward my brother, and said, “Lovely to see my brother outclassed once in a while.”

  My brother waved for me, and this time, I held Stephanie’s hand and led her.

  The wedding would end soon, and our night alone would begin, so I cheered, “Time to open the presents!”

  We stood and unboxed items. My brother handed me his gift—a clock, of course. I shook my head and said, “Seems all the traditions have been followed to the letter.”

  Next, Stephanie opened Charlotte’s gift of a tea set. Bells rang and we kissed again.

  Once we finished and night was starting to show itself, we danced one more The Lang Reel and a slow dance. As we finished the night, Stephanie said, “So I’ve had a proper Scottish wedding now?”

  She smelled more floral today. I kissed her cheek and said, “I’ll reward you tonight.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, and then her lips were on mine.

  I didn’t care who saw us. Stephanie was my wife, and when I kissed her, I was the luckiest man in the world.

  Thank you so much for reading about Stephanie and Charlie. I had so much fun writing them and I hope you enjoyed their story. However the Scottish romp with Jane Austenites is far from over. You can get A Scot for Christmas which features Sophia and Harris. (Also I licensed out the other Austenites to a new writer Tori Pine so I hope you go and check out the other three stories she penned.)

  Preview A Scot for Christmas

  Sophia

  The fresh snow in the air let me breath in the scent of Christmas. On the London street today the cinnamon rolls I passed smelled aroma. Pedestrians still started at me like I was strange, and I knew it was because I grinned like an American, showing my emotions, without a care of my crooked teeth.

  The air was fresh today. Soon I’d see my friends and celebrate the holidays, and no one should be miserable at Christmastime. At least in my world.

  Life was better somehow when there was fresh pine tree smell in the air, including the lobby of the marketing building. For a moment I swear I saw Harris, the guy I’d met weeks ago who starred in my fantasy life get on an elevator across the hall.

  I blinked and he was gone. Clearly my brain was playing a bit of a trick on me as I waited for my own elevator.

  I had a bounce to my step as I slid into my office on this Friday morning.

  No one was in their offices that I passed though. I must be early, but I reached my office and took my seat.

  Soon I’d be in Bath with my friends at Jane Austen’s tearoom and we’d have our annual holiday tradition.

  The utter silence that filled the office was as distracting as a hurricane. I had no idea where anyone was or if I missed a memo about a day off. For now I jumped up to get myself a morning tea and took my cup to the electric kettle and opened the cabinet for one of the tea bags.

  My boss, John’s face was completely white when I faced him at the door and cleared his throat. I tilted my head to say hello, but then he asked, “What are you doing here Sophia?”

  I narrowed my gaze as the water boiled behind me. “I work here.”

  His face turned bright red when he said, “You should have read your email last night or this morning.”

  Maybe the staff was all supposed to be somewhere else. My skin was jumpy. Last night I’d spent half the night sewing my Jane Austen reenactment dress for the tea. I nodded and said, “Right…”

  Without another word he stormed away. The halls were cold, and the lack of white noise was eerie. I took my teacup and returned to my office.

  This time I opened the work email and I almost spilled the tea. My hands started to shake as I reread the words. ‘We no longer require your services. Please report to human resources for your severance.’

  I covered my lips and said to myself, “Are
you serious? Christmas is coming.” I gulped my last tea I’d ever have here and grabbed my bag. At the last second, I decided to pack my teacup and rummage my desk for personal effects as I mumbled, “See human resources.”

  Fired at Christmas was one of those movies scenes that always seemed unbelievable when it happened to someone else.

  My entire body was now cold and trembling as I left the office and headed downstairs.

  This wasn’t how I expected today. My coworkers were mostly silent, but I had a few head nods as I took my place in line.

  Everyone else was British so no one else had my immigration issues. My throat tightened as I imagined having to return to Denver.

  I’d be stuck in a broken home with my alcoholic father until I figured out how to get myself a place and start over. Or I’d have to see my sister and my ex again. The night I discovered their betrayal, I bought a plane ticket to be even closer to Jane and forget my family.

  Before my mother had died, she’d trained me to follow my dreams and go after what I want, but that hadn’t included how to handle being let go.

  A week ago I turned down the job to go to America because I had some fantasy life where I’d see Harris again. Now that was gone too as romance took a backseat to reality like it always did.

  Finally I made it to the front of the line and the HR representative handed me a form letter as she said, “The company is offering you one-month severance and your retirement benefits will kick in automatically when you reach the age limit.”

  The letter said nothing about my immigration and how my job supported me.

  My heart raced as I said, “I don’t understand this.”

  She stopped typing and handed me a second letter. “The company will be working with freelancers. If you’re interested in working with us and set up your own business, please apply at our website to see what jobs are available.”

  The pay was probably a fraction, and this didn’t solve my problem.

  However my mother would have said ‘you’ll figure it out if you want it bad enough.’ So I stood to let the next person in line in as I said, “Great. Thanks.”