Kiltnapped [Kilt, Kilty, Kilted 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 1
Kilt, Kilty, Kilted 1
Kiltnapped
American Paisley Gill has dreamed about the Highlands of Scotland and a certain kilted Scotsman all her life. After saving for years, she's finally able to visit and tour the country. She expected to find beautiful scenery, men in kilts, and inspiration for her erotic romance writing while there. The last thing she expected was be kiltnapped from her hotel room.
Highlander Ewan MacGregor had been dreaming of Paisley for years. So when Fergus, the clan’s wise woman sends him to Glasgow to find his woman, he goes to appease her and is shocked when he comes face to face with the woman he has been dreaming about all his life.
Will Paisley recognize her soul mate? Can Ewan convince her that her place in the universe is with him? Will Paisley find the answer to the age-old question of what Scotsmen wear under their kilts?
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 32,128 words
KILTNAPPED
Kilt, Kilty, Kilted 1
Cooper McKenzie
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
KILTNAPPED
Copyright © 2014 by Cooper McKenzie
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-534-9
First E-book Publication: October 2014
Cover design by Christine Kirchoff
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
For Roseanne, Stevie, and my fellow travelers on Globus Tours GG0724. It was a pleasure sleeping, eating, and traipsing around Scotland with you!
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
About the Author
KILTNAPPED
Kilt, Kilty, Kilted 1
COOPER MCKENZIE
Copyright © 2014
Chapter 1
Paisley Gill woke between one racing beat of her heart and the next, her body jolting with the most intense, dream-induced orgasm she had ever experienced. Opening her eyes, she was surprised that her fellow passengers on the trans-Atlantic flight from Philadelphia to Glasgow slept on, blissfully unaware of her rather unique situation. Few, if any of them, were probably able to come just from their dreams.
But then how many of them had ever experienced the sort of dreams she had been having for the last few years? Dreams that had always been arousing but had grown so hot and steamy in the past months she nearly always woke horny and unable to get out of bed until she got herself off.
The dreams starred a gorgeous, auburn-haired, bearded, kilt-wearing Scotsman who found her curves, sweetness, and rather naïve view of the world fascinating. A dream man who could not seem to keep his hands off of her when they were near one another and who took great delight in getting her alone, naked, and sweaty from hot and imaginative sexual games.
“They’re just dreams, Paisley,” she whispered to herself, afraid to believe they could be anything more.
Once again, she tried to convince herself that it was just her overactive imagination hard at work, and that her dreams, which until a few months ago she never remembered once she woke up, were just dreams. No matter what anyone else predicted, she took the nearly nightly visions, all of which starred the same hunk of Scotsman, for what they were, the hopes and wishes for someone who would never cross her path.
It was time she accepted the truth—she was a thirty-year-old divorcee who was too damaged by her past to let a new man close as she led a double life back home in Pennsylvania. She was traveling to Scotland for a working vacation in order to gather information and inspiration for her writing, not to search for a husband, no matter how much a Scottish brogue turned her on.
“Now, go back to sleep and no more dreams about men you’ll never be able to have,” she murmured loud enough to wake the man who sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her in the triple seat at the back of the economy section of the plane.
“Pardon?” The older gentleman opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Nothing,” she said as she tried to shift in her seat, hoping to find a more comfortable position.
He grunted, closed his eyes, and returned to his own dreams.
Sadly, there was no comfortable position to be found which would ease the aching muscles down the left side of her spine. With a grumpy huff, she rearranged the airline-provided little pillow between her head and the plane’s wall, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep without dreaming of kilted hotties with deep-green eyes and long auburn hair.
* * * *
Ewan MacGregor’s roar of release woke him as his cock pulsed, shooting hot semen to cover his naked belly.
“Damn ye dreams,”
he growled as he reached for the washrag he had taken to leaving on the bedside table for just such occasions, which were happening with more and more frequency.
He was not surprised when his alarm went off a few minutes later. It always did. It was as if the dreams were meant to help him start the day with a smile on his face. Sadly, the dreams which featured the same woman off and on all his life were only making him yearn more strongly for her. And now she was coming to him nightly, and often the dreams bled over to fill his thoughts during the day as well. How much longer before he would find her in the natural so he could claim her for his own once and for all? Or was she to remain in his dreams, torturing both heart and cock while keeping him living like monk as he waited for her to come to him?
She was a beautiful woman, not so young as to be unaware of the workings of the world, but not old either. Her hair was long and dark as the night and her deep-brown eyes carried both an innocence he admired, and a fear he wanted to erase. Her ivory skin was smooth with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
In his dreams, she was soft and curvy, with full tits and gently rounded hips a man could rest upon without being afraid of poking holes in himself. She seemed unaware of her beauty and uncomfortable with her womanliness, but that was probably because the rest of the world seemed to dictate that women should be anorexic stick figures and not have hips and tits and waists that curved differently than a man’s.
He knew instinctively she gave of herself, both in bed and out. He had a feeling Fergus was right, the woman in his dreams was the one to replace the old healer. Problem was the woman needed to learn how to share herself and her healing without allowing others to drain her. And in this world of more and better and living forever thanks to plastic food and a pill for every ailment, there was a growing need for the old ways of healing. His cousin Harry had become a doctor and tended to all who needed his care, but his great aunt Fergus, the clan healer and seer, kept busy healing those who believed in the old ways.
He was tired of living his most exciting life in his dreams, of praying each night for another visit with dark-haired beauty he was already more than half in love without ever shaking her hand or seeing her outside the visions. But until he met her face-to-face, he forced himself to be content with what he had.
With a sigh, Ewan rolled from his bed and crossed the room to the attached bathroom and dressing area. A long shower was the first order of the day, though he had not yet decided whether he would be using the hot water or the cold to wash away the sweat his dream had left him with.
“Doesna matter, ye fool. Either way ye’ll be hard as a stone before ’tis over as ye’ve been every day this week.”
Fifteen minutes later, he had rubbed another one out, which would hopefully keep his need under control for the day. He had just pulled on a pair of knit boxers when the house phone rang. He smiled, already knowing it was his aunt calling as she did each morning from her apartment on the far side of the keep to let him know she was still alive. Fergus was nothing if not predictable in her routines.
Forcing a smile on his lips, he picked the house phone up on the third ring. “Good morning ta ye, Auntie. Did ye sleep well?”
Fergus MacGregor ignored his inquiry. “Ye need ta go ta Glasgow this day.” Ewan was used to her not bothering with the niceties of hellos and good-byes. When he was six, he had asked the old woman why she was always so brusque and bold in her conversations and still remembered her response. “I’m old an’ the time I hae left is too short ta be wasted on stupid niceties that dunna mean a thing. But ye, boyo, ye’ll hae many, many years left in this world, and need ta be sweet as sugar ta everyone ye meet.”
Pulling in a long, slow breath, he contemplated her words before reviewing the list of all he had planned for the day. In addition to his duties to the clan, he had agreed to help Jock and the boys move the big hay bales from the outlying fields closer to the barns so they were more convenient for feeding the livestock during the winter. “And why would I be needin’ ta go ta Glasgow on a Tuesday? I supposed ta be helpin’ in the fields this week.”
“Och wheesht, boyo. Do as I say. And ye’ll need ta take Collin with ye. And if ye dunna wear yer plaid, I’ll be knocking yer head with me cane. Now get yerself ready as ye need ta be leavin’ in an hour.”
With his orders issued, the phone clicked dead in his ear.
Ewan looked down at his half-clad body and sighed. After hanging up the phone, he picked it up again, and dialed the number for his cousin’s suite of rooms.
“Whaddaya want?” Collin’s sleepy voice growled after the phone had been picked up from the base and dropped twice.
“And a good morning ta ye, too. Get yerself up and dressed in yer plaid. We leave fer Glasgow in an hour,” Ewan said. Without waiting for a response, he hung up before turning and heading back to the closet.
He returned the boxers he had just donned back to their drawer. Then he reached for one of the kilts that hung on a wall opposite. As with all true Scotsmen, he wore nothing under his kilt as it was well known that pants under a kilt made it a skirt.
He was downstairs drinking an after-breakfast cup of tea when Collin finally appeared, looking none too happy. “Could ye please explain why I’m up at bloody daybreak and dressed fer me funeral?”
Ewan could not help but chuckle at his cousin. Though they shared a grandfather, whose ancestors’ blood had been spilt at Culloden, Collin preferred his jeans and sweats to the freedom and tradition of the kilt.
“Because Fergus said yer ta go with me today. And since I hafta wear the plaid, I thought ’twould only be fittin’ that we be a matched set of bookends.”
“An’ did she tell ye why we’re goin’ ta the bloody city on a weekday? Or is she just sendin’ us on some foolish errand like the last time she sent me ta Aberdeen fer lavender oil when she had near a liter settin’ in the storehouse?” Collin poured himself a cup of tea and quickly added milk and sugar before drinking deeply. Lowering the cup, he sighed as the tea entered his system.
“I dinna tell him but I’ll tell ye both now,” Fergus said from the doorway. “Yer ta fetch here the lass who’ll be replacin’ me. ’Tis long past time she begins her trainin’. Ye must protect her and bring her back here as soon as ye can.”
Before Ewan could respond, Collin choked on his tea. “And jes’ how are we supposed ta find this lass in a city that’s teemin’ with half the world for the Commonwealth Games?”
“Look for the thistle,” Fergus answered cryptically.
“And how are we supposed ta recognize this woman?” Ewan asked as he rose from the table.
Though sometimes skeptical of his aunt’s abilities, Ewan voiced his doubts in front of the woman. She had been the clan seer and healer for the last eighty-five years, taking over from the old healer when she was but ten years old. Also over the years, she had predicted things too accurately to discount and won more than a few baby pools after simply touching the pregnant woman’s belly.
He froze when she turned and stared deep into his eyes. “Ye’ll ken her, boyo. Jes’ look fer the woman from yer dreams. Make her yers, and bring her back here so’s I can get started on her teachin’ before…” Fergus trailed off as she began to turn away, looking a little sad.
Ewan knew Fergus was thinking about her death, and at ninety-five, that day could come at any time, but he still had a hard time believing the woman would ever cross over to the other side. Like the Highlands themselves, she was a force of nature.
“And if she doesna wanta come?” Collin asked.
“If ye dinna bring her back with ye in the week, she’ll die and with her any chance for a future leader for the clan from old Angus’s bloodline. Which means the clan will fall apart and die. I’m no’ long for this side of the veil and only she can take me place as the soul of the clan, though she’ll be its heart as well. Now off with ye. There’s no time ta waste if yer plannin’ ta keep the clan intact, prosperous, and at peace.”
Chapter 2
Getting through customs was a breeze compared to the stories she had heard, but by the time Paisley stepped out of her taxi and crossed the sidewalk to the Thistle Inn, she had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. When she tripped on the top step leading into the lobby, she expected to end up sprawled on the floor.
So tired she could barely lift her arms, she was shocked when she did not smash face-first onto the shiny marble floor. Instead, she stopped halfway down when a hard, thick, muscular arm wrapped around her middle. The arm then pulled her back against a body that felt as hard as the floor looked.
“Careful there, lass. Ye dinna wanta hurt yerself so early in the morn,” a deep Scottish brogue said gently in her ear.
Paisley was not sure if it was the brogue, the hard body, the scent of spicy male, or a combination of the three, but her pussy immediately went soft and wet as her libido kicked into overdrive. She thought she felt his nose brush over the top of her head but could not be sure.
Regaining her footing, she straightened, took two steps forward, and turned to face her rescuer. “Thank you…oh my God, it’s you.”
She did not mean to sound accusatory, but finding herself face-to-face with the man she had been dreaming of most of her life was more than a bit of a shock to her tired, travel-weary system.
He looked exactly as she had dreamed of him just hours earlier on the plane, except now he had clothes on. Broad shoulders and a thick chest narrowed to a flat waist and hips with long legs that ended in a pair of hiking boots. Auburn hair with a few strands of silver glinting at the temples flowed to rest heavy on his shoulders while a mustache and close-cropped beard two shades darker than his head with a bit more silver in them covered his face. His eyes glowed with such an intense green they put new spring grass after a rain to shame.