He was even dressed as she had dreamt in some of her dreams, wearing a cream-colored lace up shirt and the same red, green, and white plaid tartan in his kilt.
“It is?” he asked, looking a bit surprised himself. “And jes’ who might I be?”
Though she wanted to blurt out that he was the man she had been having sex with in her dreams for the past month, Paisley bit her lip and kept silent. He would never believe her, and would probably call the Scottish equivalent of the men in white with butterfly nets. And her first trip outside the United States would turn disastrous if she was hospitalized for talking about her crazy dreams with the gorgeous kilted Scotsman she had dreamt about. Especially since his was the first kilt she had seen on a live body since entering the country less than two hours earlier.
“Never mind,” she said, bending to retrieve her carry-on suitcase, which had fallen to the floor.
He smiled gently. “If that’s what ye wish, lass. But I’d be interested ta learn where we might have met afore, fer surely I’d remember crossing paths with a lass as lovely as ye.”
Before Paisley could decide if the stranger was teasing her or not, a second man similar in build, looks, and dress but without the beard, strolled through the front door as if he owned the place. “So, Ewan, have ye found her yet?”
“Wheesht, boyo. Hold yer tongue,” the beard growled at his cohort. “Canna ye see I’m talkin’ ta this lovely lass?” He looked at the newcomer, and it seemed the two shared a silent communication before the newcomer nodded and bent slightly from the waist.
“Oh, aye, fergive me for interruptin’ then, me laird.” With that somewhat snarky apology, the second man stepped around them and crossed the lobby to the reception desk.
Ignoring the second man, Paisley found herself trapped in her rescuer’s green gaze and unable to look away. As they continued to stare deep into each other’s eyes, time continued without them, as if they were caught in a bubble where time had stopped, alone together, and no longer a part of the rest of the world.
“What’s yer name, lass?” he asked in a soft tone as he took her left hand with his, cupping his palm around the back of her hand and weaving their fingers together.
She thought it was a strange way to hold hands, but maybe it was a Celtic thing. The touch of his work-roughened palm against her skin seemed to short-circuit her thinking to anything beyond responding and keeping him talking. “Paisley Gill,” she answered in a whisper for fear of shattering whatever this thing was between them.
“And I’m Ewan MacGregor of the clan MacGregor.”
Paisley grinned as his response immediately brought forth memories of one of her favorite movies about Scotsman who would live forever unless his head was cut off. “Do you really introduce yourself that way? Or only to gullible American tourists? Because I’ve got to tell you, it’s a little hokey, but I like it. Ewan MacGregor of the clan MacGregor.”
“And I’m findin’ ye quite ta me likin’, Paisley Gill of America. What would ye say ta a wee drink while we discuss our future tagether?”
Her heart and loins wanted to skip the drink and take him upstairs as soon as she could claim her room key. But her brain, and practical common sense, overruled them. Gently pulling her hand from his, she forced herself to take a step away and turn, effectively breaking the intense stare-down they had going on. Instantly she wanted to return to his side and throw herself into his arms.
“I’m sorry, but besides it being too early for alcohol, I need to check in, and maybe take a nap. But thanks for keeping me from smacking the floor.”
“Any time, dear lady,” Ewan said from behind her. “And if the Fates be kind, we’ll meet again soon. Maybe then ye’ll be willin’ ta join me in a cup of tea.”
Paisley could only smile as her cheeks burned even hotter in response to his burning green-eyed gaze. “Maybe.”
* * * *
Ewan watched from a distance as Paisley checked in. He moved just close enough to hear the reception desk tell the woman she was in room four-twelve before he moved over to where Collin was waiting near the entrance to the bar and restaurant area.
“Well?” his cousin asked, looking hopeful.
“Aye, she’s the one. And apparently she kens we’re supposed ta be tagether, but she’s fightin’ the attraction.”
Collin slapped him in the center of the back harder than the situation called for. Ewan knew the lingering handprint of pain was as much a congratulations as it was a wordless payback for dragging him to the city, and making him wear the kilt he hated. “Well ye’ll jes’ have ta convince her. Now let’s get somethin’ ta eat. I’m starving.”
Ewan followed his cousin through the side hall by the bar to the coffee shop beyond. His thoughts remained on Paisley Gill and how he should go about convincing her to give up life in America in order to come back to the keep with him. Sounded like an impossible task but maybe her dreams and the attraction he had felt between them would make it easier. For though the MacGregor men had not kidnapped a bride in several centuries, he was not above carrying Paisley Gill off with him, if it meant saving her life, and keeping his clan united.
* * * *
After a hot shower, Paisley unpacked, working to fight the pull to return downstairs. She held out another fifteen minutes before the need to find Ewan MacGregor became overwhelming. By then she had dressed, touched up her makeup, and dried her hair.
Finally, she muttered, “To hell with it. Maybe he is the man of your dreams come true. You’ve had stranger dreams than this come true before.”
Except none of those dreams involved a man who lived a quarter of the world away.
Grabbing her key and the wallet purse that held her passport, money, and the few other necessities Paisley refused to be without, she left her room and walked to the floor’s lobby with elevators and the main stairs. The shower had perked her up, and she thought a little exercise might help her body adjust to this new time zone so she headed down the stairs. Her bravery ran out as she came down the last set of stairs and entered the lobby.
But Ewan seemed to be waiting for her. He stepped into view and crossed the lobby toward her. Without a word, he took her hand in his and led her through the bar and down several steps to the coffee shop at street level. As they crossed the room, he looked at the barista behind the counter and nodded.
Then they continued on to the back corner where a table sat almost completely hidden from the rest of the room by displays of mugs and prepackaged goodies. Surprising her again, Ewan held her chair and made sure she was comfortable before sitting back down in his own chair.
The still-nameless man with him had stood as soon as they had come into view. He then waited for Ewan to sit before plopping himself back down and returning his attention to the half-empty plate of what appeared to be a large Scottish breakfast in front of him.
Before Paisley could recall any of the dozens of questions she had thought of while in the shower, a round silver tray appeared in front of her. It contained a small, white teapot with matching cream and sugar dishes as well as a delicate teacup and saucer covered in small purple flowers with a small spoon resting on the teacup and a plate containing several cookies. Shortbread, she guessed before even taking a taste.
“Thank you.” She smiled over her shoulder at the barista.
“Yer verra welcome, miss,” the young woman said with a nod and a smile before returning to the counter.
Ignoring the intense scrutiny of both men, she fixed herself a cup of tea with milk and sugar. Both men seemed to relax back in their chairs as she took the first sip and made a soft sound of pleasure.
“Now, Paisley Gill, tell us everathin’,” Ewan said as he lifted his own half-empty cup and took a sip.
Though both men watched her, it was Ewan and those green, green eyes that had come to her so often in her dreams that she focused on. “Tell you everything about what?”
“Tell us everything about yourself.”
Paisley could s
ee he was serious. Too serious in his attraction for a man she had only met once for a few minutes less than an hour ago. Something deep, deep in her heart told her it was imperative she answer. But she continued to hesitate.
Instead, she took a bite of one of the cookies. Yep, shortbread and it was delicious. Not as sweet at American cookies, but with the richer taste making it better, in her humble opinion.
She took a sip of tea to wash it down before she finally said, “Everything is an awfully big subject. Could you possibly narrow it down a bit?”
“No’ really. I want ta ken everathin’ about the woman I’ll be marryin’.”
Paisley choked on a crumb and ended up coughing as she reached for her tea. Only when she had settled down again did she look at him. “What did you say?”
Ewan leaned closer, not stopping until she felt his breath on her lips. “I said, I want ta ken everathin’ about the woman I’ll be marryin’.”
“You’re crazy,” she said before turning to the other man who had stopped eating and was staring at Ewan in what appeared to be shock. “Should he be out with only one keeper watching over him? He’s obviously crazy as a bedbug.”
“I’m beginnin’ ta wonder that meself. By the way, I’m Collin MacGregor, the crazy man’s cousin, best friend, and right-hand man.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Paisley snarked. “Does he tell many women he’s going to marry them and wants to know everything about them?”
Ewan growled in displeasure as she continued to ignore him. The dark sound sent another shiver racing through Paisley to set her pussy to wanting once more.
She spared him a glance but did not speak to him.
“Ne’er before hae I seen the laird act in such a fashion,” Collin answered. “Ye may wanta listen ta him fer he’s been dreamin’ of ye since he was a boy and those dreams have ruint him fer other lasses. All he’s e’er wanted was the dark-eyed lass o’ his dreams.”
Paisley’s heart somersaulted as she turned back to Ewan. “Really? You dreamed of me, too?”
Ewan blinked at Paisley’s sudden shift in attitude. “Aye, lass. I’ve been dreamin’ about ye since I was but five years old. Fergus told me then that those dreams were tellin’ me of the lass I was ta marry. And now, here ye are.”
“But how do you know that girl you dreamed of so long ago is me?”
“Because I ne’er stopped dreamin’ of ye, lass. And in these last months and weeks the dreams have grown in number and strength. I even saw our meetin’ in me dreams, of how I would rescue ye down to what ye were wearin’. And then, jes’ hours ago, me dreams were so scorchin’ hot they woke me up with a smile on me face.”
As Paisley recalled how she had woken from her sleep about the same time, her face began to burn as blood rushed to her cheeks. How was it possible they had both woken in the same fashion at about the same time?
“Ah, I see ye shared that dream with me as well. I had hoped ye would. ’Twas a verra good dream.”
Paisley dropped her head, staring at the shortbread, which now lay on the plate as a pile of crumbs.
After a moment, the tips of two fingers touched her chin, gently easing her head up until she had to raise her gaze or strain her eyes to keep them focused on the table.
His eyes were warm, hungry, and looking for something as he stared into hers. “Collin, leave us,” he ordered in that deep tone which sent another shiver of need through her.
Without a word, the other man picked up his plate and his tea and slipped around the table and out of sight.
Then Ewan grew serious. “Why are ye denyin’ wha’s between us?”
“Because this kind of thing doesn’t happen. We don’t know anything about each other, except that we seem compatible in our dreams,” Paisley said. “But real life is not about dreams. It’s about the reality that I live in the States and you live here. And from the way Collin treats you, I assume you’re a big muckety-muck in the clan and can’t just up and come home with me when I go back next week.”
“Nae, as the clan chieftain’s right-hand man, ’tis a necessity that I be here ta keep the peace both in the clan and in the shire. But tha’s also why I need ye with me. Yer ta be as much a part of the clan as I am.”
Paisley yawned and shook her head. The oomph she had gotten from the shower and exercise had worn off. It was time for a nap. “I’m sorry. I’m too tired to make sense of all this right now.”
“Of course, I should have realized. Let’s get ye up and ta bed,” Ewan said, immediately standing and helping her to her feet.
Chapter 3
Instead of bidding her adieu at the elevator when it arrived, Ewan followed her into it. He did not press a floor button since Collin had yet to tell him what room they were in. Instead, he followed his dream woman out of the elevator when they reached her floor. Then like a big, silent shadow, he trailed after her as she walked down the hall and around the corner to her room.
Once there she stopped. He could see she had no clue how to politely send him on his way so she could go inside and collapse. Which was fine with him as he was not planning to go anywhere. As they had come upstairs, a plan had exploded fully formed into his consciousness.
“Well, um, thank you for the tea and shortbread,” she said as she fumbled in her pocket for the electronic room key.
“Yer more than welcome,” he returned softly.
Once she had her key in her hand, she stood staring at the electronic lock as if befuddled as to how to open the door. A wave of concerned tenderness filled him so he gently pulled the key from her fingers, slid it into the lock, and pushed the door open when he heard the whirring click of the lock opening.
She did not speak, just ducked under his arm, and walked through the open door. Ewan followed her inside and allowed the door to close behind him. While she walked into the room, he secured the deadbolt lock.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he walked the narrow hall formed by the bathroom and stopped at the doorway to the bedroom proper where he looked around.
“This appears nice enough,” he said as he sat on the end of the bed and began to untie his bootlaces. “At least the bed is big enough me feet willna be hanging o’er the edge. Why don’t ye get comfortable and lay down afore ye fall down.”
He intentionally deepened his tone, using just a touch of the “I am the boss” tone that seemed to bypass her conscious thought and touched her on a subconscious level. Instead of arguing, Paisley set her purse on the dresser by the television, toed off her sneakers, and crawled on top of the covers. She settled on her side next to the wall that separated bathroom from bedroom. She watched through heavy eyes as he took off his sporran and set it next to her purse.
Rounding to the side of the bed, he lay down. Adjusting the many pillows piled against the headboard, he finally found a position lying on his back where he was comfortable. Reaching out, he eased the nearly unconscious Paisley across the mattress, and positioned her with her head resting on his shoulder. Then he took her left hand, and laid it palm down over the center of his chest before covering it with his right.
“Now, lass, close yer eyes and go ta sleep. Nothin’ bad will befall ye whilst I’m here keepin’ watch.”
He was only mildly surprised when less than a minute later, Paisley melted fully against his side as sleep dragged her under its spell.
He looked around the room without disturbing the sleeping woman and realized he was trapped and unable to get the television remote in order to watch television. Instead, he dropped his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off as well.
* * * *
Paisley slept deeply for a time before the dream began. She was not surprised. After all, she was now in Scotland. What did surprise her was Ewan was right there with her and it was as if the dream was picking up where they had ended in the coffee shop. The time before Ewan had become a silent, watchful guardian as he followed her to her room and then made himself comfortable there.
“Is this real, or just a dream?” she asked as he cuddled her even closer to his side.
It was as if they were suspended somewhere in a black room with the light only shining on them, as if their location had not been decided upon. But they were curled together like a couple of puppies with her head on his shoulder, and one arm and leg thrown over his body.
At that moment, being together was all that mattered to Paisley, though her clothes were beginning to feel too warm and restrictive. She wondered how to suggest they should get naked without sounding too needy or forward. After all, they had been naked in their dreams before, though their bodies had been covered by blankets or sheets.
Ewan looked thoughtful for a few long seconds before answering. “Both I suppose. We’re together in the natural, but I canna tell where we are in this dream world we’ve come ta.”
“Maybe we’re not anywhere,” Paisley offered.
Ewan’s arm around her back gave her a little squeeze. “So where would ye like ta be, lass? Me rooms at the keep? Or yer room here at the hotel? Or maybe back on that picnic in the Highlands?”
Paisley’s eyes grew wide as their surroundings changed with each suggestion he made.
“Here,” she said. They were curled on a large rug in the MacGregor tartan in the middle of a great empty field with nothing and no one else in sight. All she could see around them was the Highland mountains. “Where are we?”
“The clan keep is o’er that rise there,” he pointed to the mountain in front of them.
“Ah,” she said. “So you do know this place.”
“Of course. Now, lass, will ye tell me everathin’ about yerself here? Or am I jes’ goin’ ta hae ta nag at ye like an old goat after a treat?”
Kiltnapped [Kilt, Kilty, Kilted 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2
