DEAR KILTED SCOTSMAN: A Curvy Girl Romance (SINCERELY YOURS Book 8)

  DEAR KILTED SCOTSMAN

  SINCERELY YOURS SERIES

  LANA DASH

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Also By Lana Dash

  About the Author

  DEAR KILTED SCOTSMAN is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by LANA DASH

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  BRIANNA

  I first read the series when I was sixteen years old—Letters from a Highlander. It’s a story of a young woman who travels back in time from present-day Scotland to the eighteenth century with the magic of a bundle of letters she finds in a deserted castle. It was my first taste of learning all about the Jacobite Rebellion along with the lore and traditions of Scotland. I fell in love with the idea of finding my own highlander one day, and I begged my parents to take me, but they always said no. There was no money for us to travel halfway around the world to visit the Scotland Highlands. The farthest we ever went on vacation was a weekend trip to Dollywood. When I was old enough, I told myself that I would save my money and take that trip of a lifetime.

  It only took ten years of working multiple odd jobs and saving every penny earned so that it could get me here today.

  I lean back on my hands and tilt my face up at the sky. It's slightly overcast, but the sun is peeking through the clouds whenever it can. I'm sitting on a blanket next to Loch Greer, listening to the gentle sounds of the water lapping against the pebble beach. My worn copy of Letters from a Highlander next to me. I’ve just finished rereading it for the umpteenth time. The epic love between Katherine and Graeme still pulls me in like it did the first time I read it. It's hard to imagine finding the great love of your life, and he lives in a different time. The hurdles they had to face, they faced together.

  I look down at the tattered book that I’ve held so close to my heart for so long. The letter I wrote to the mysterious Scotsman when I was eighteen, declaring my love to a man I hadn't met and yet I knew one day I would meet here, as Katherine did in the story, peeking out from between the pages. I pull it out but don't open the sealed envelope. It's probably silly that I wrote it, and even sillier that I've held onto it for this long, but I’m not ready to let that hope that one day my words would find the one I’m meant to be with.

  I stuff the letter back in between the pages, and I lay back on the blue and green tartan blanket. I should head back to the camper van I’ve been using to travel around in, but it’s a few miles away down the road. Plus, I just want another moment here. The sound of the wind mixed with the lapping water of the loch lulls me, and I feel the muscles in my body relax.

  The next thing I know, there is a loud boom above my head, and my eyes shoot open. Instead of the overcast sky that was there when I closed my eyes, it's dark. I blink my eyes a few times, looking around, but I can't see my hand in front of my face. For a moment, in my startled sleep haze, I think that I've gone blind. But a flash of lightning cracks across the sky, and the loch is lit up.

  I scream and jump to my feet, scrambling for my phone in my pocket. The flashlight on it does little to light more than a couple of feet in front of me. I gather my blanket and book and stumble my way back in what I think is the direction of my camper van.

  The storm is getting closer, and I quickly realize that this situation I’m finding myself in is going from bad to worse. I swing the phone around, trying to look for anything familiar that will guide me in the right direction. I look for any lights shining from the castle that I saw just beyond the trees as I hiked to the loch earlier today. But I don’t see anything.

  More thunder rumbles, startling me, and I try to push forward, but I could be moving in the wrong direction. Lightning lights up the sky again, and I have only a moment to look around and try to figure out where I need to go. But a dark kilted figure, dressed like he’s in clothing from the eighteenth century, steps out of the tree line, and for a moment, our gazes lock before darkness blankets us again—fear tears through me when I suddenly can’t see the stranger. And I’m suddenly reminded of the opening scene in Letters from a Highlander when Katherine is first transported back in time and comes across a Graeme in the forest.

  My eyes have to be playing tricks on me. I’m still in a haze from being woken up abruptly, my active imagination is finally working against me, and I'm alone in a foreign country in the pitch black of night—pick any one of those reasons to explain what I think I saw.

  “Who’s out there?” The deep voice with a heavily Scots accent calls out.

  I freeze and try to turn off the light from my phone. My only recourse is to pretend that I’m not here and hope that the figment of my imagination will go away. He can’t see me. I can’t see him. But the snap of a twig about twenty feet away from me tells me exactly where he is.

  “I saw you,” the voice yells again, but there is a note of uncertainty in his tone.

  I hold my breath, not wanting a single sound to come out of me to let him know where I am. He moves closer, but he might pass me without realizing it. Suddenly there is another flash of lightning in the sky, illuminating the kilted stranger and me. My fight or flight instincts kick in, and I turn and start running.

  "Hey!" he calls, but I don't stop.

  I can hear him close behind me. My years of watching my older brother excel at Track and Field does nothing to help me at this moment. My foot catches on something, and I face plant onto the ground. My blanket, phone, and book fly out of my hands.

  It's too dark, and the stranger behind me doesn't see me on the ground and trips on my prone body, landing on me with a grunt before rolling off. The force of his body landing on me knocks the wind out of me, and suddenly I can't breathe. I gasp, trying to draw in a breath, but the spasming in my chest makes it feel like it’s impossible.

  “Are you alright?” I feel him sit up next to me. “Breathe, lass.”

  All I can do is focus on my breathing until I’m able to calm down. The wind from the storm starts to pick up. I fumble around on the ground for my phone and turn on the light. The kilted Scotsman sitting next to me has an expression of concern on his face, watching me with intense, dark eyes. I move the light down and see that he is dressed in a loose collared shirt, a kilt, and some boots. I haven’t been in Scotland too long, but this doesn’t look like the clothes any of the men I’ve come across. He looks like a historical figure that has stepped out of the past.

  “Did I go back in time?” I ask.

  His eyes narrow on me as if I've just grown a second head, but he doesn't answer me. He pushes to his feet and holds out his hand to me.

  “I think you hit your head when you fell,” he says, his heavy accent smoothing out and becoming clearer for me to understand.

  I feel my head, expecting to find blood
or a bump to explain why I thought for a moment that I traveled back in time to the eighteenth century. The light from my phone catches the worn book lying on the ground next to me. Oh right.

  I reach out and take his hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

  “I need to get back to my camper van,” I tell him.

  He looks around, but everything is still too dark, and the storm is nearly on top of us.

  “We need to get back to the castle. You can stay there for the night, and I can take you back in the morning.”

  He leans down and picks up my stuff before handing it back to me. He holds out his hand again, but this time I won't hesitate to take it. His warm hand encircles mine, and it feels familiar in a way I don't understand. But I don't have time to think about it further. He leads me back into the trees, towards the castle.

  2

  COLIN

  When I heard a woman scream, I thought that it was my mind playing tricks on me. And with the storm coming, I didn’t want to take a chance. But I couldn’t have imagined the beauty I'd find out there.

  When the sky lit up, and I first saw her standing by the loch, I’m embarrassed to admit that I thought for a moment I saw a ghost. Growing up, there wasn’t a wee child in the village that hadn’t heard the ghost stories of The Lady of Loch Greer. She appears when she senses her lost true love is near. And when this woman ran, something just came over me, like I couldn’t let her disappear. But she is flesh and blood. I should know. I ate a face full of earth, tripping over her.

  “Do you live here?” she asks as the few lights lit in the castle appear in the darkness.

  I glance over at her. A wee bit of light from the windows illuminates enough of her so I can see her this time. My eyes trace the dark shadows cast over her face and down to the soft curves of her body. My body instantly reacts to the gorgeous woman standing next to me. And I have to take a moment to think of anything else to help calm all the blood rushing to my cock.

  Before I can answer her, the front door opens, and my younger sister, Ainslie, walks out. She, too, is dressed in our period costumes for tomorrow’s event. She insisted I try everything on tonight instead of waiting until the last minute, so she can make any adjustments needed.

  “So, you did hear a woman scream.” Ainslie smiles, looking her up and down. “I was sure that you were going mad.”

  The woman looks at Ainslie’s clothes in confusion like she did mine. I forgot that I was dressed to look like I was about to set off a fight in the Jacobite Rebellion and not in my regular shirt and trousers.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” she says.

  “And she’s an American too.” Ainslie’s smile widens. “I’m Ainslie McTavish.”

  The woman looks from Ainslie to me and back again. The wheels in her head are turning wildly as she tries to understand what is going on here. “I’m Brianna.”

  Brianna.

  I say the name over and over again in my mind. My tongue rolling with each syllable. And suddenly, my mind wanders to what else my tongue can do.

  Focus!

  “And that’s my eejit brother, Colin, standing next to you.” Ainslie gestures at me with a look of annoyance on her face. "Normally, he's much friendlier than he is at this moment.”

  "It's fine." Brianna smiles at me and then looks back at Ainslie. "He found me down by the loch and was nice enough to offer to let me stay here for the night until tomorrow when I can get back to my camper van.”

  Ainslie’s wide eyes swing over to me. “You found a woman down by the loch?”

  “I’m sorry.” Brianna suddenly looks nervous. “I didn’t realize that I was trespassing on your land. I didn’t think anyone even lived in the castle.”

  I meet Ainslie’s gaze, and I already know what she's thinking without her saying a word.

  “Don’t worry yourself, Brianna.” Ainslie reaches out and takes her hand. “We need to get you inside before the storm hits.”

  We all go inside just as the rain starts to fall. I watch Brianna’s reaction as she takes in the old castle that’s been in my family for as far back a any of us can remember. I don’t know why, but the urge to have her like it here is strong.

  “This place is amazing.” She looks around.

  Ainslie takes the blanket and book out of Brianna’s hands and gives them to me as she gives her a bit of a tour. Showing off the relics that my family has collected over the years and paintings of our ancestors that lead up the family portrait painted just months before our parents’ accident two years ago.

  “And that makes Colin the current Laird of Castle Greer.”

  Brianna’s wide eyes swing back to me as I stand off to the side. I don't like the title I inherited, but I didn't have much of a choice. I couldn't let my father and mother down and not keep our family name's legacy going after all they did. They’d spent so many years working hard to repairing the castle to its former glory and setting up a trust that would allow for future generations not to have to worry where they’d find the money to maintain the estate.

  “You don’t look like a Laird,” Brianna says, looking me up and down.

  I straighten. “And what do I look like to you?”

  “You look like you are about to head off to battle,”

  “I forgot we were even wearing these things.” Ainslie chuckles. “We were trying on our outfits for tomorrow’s festival.”

  “Festival?” Brianna asks.

  “Yes, the Highland Strong Man Games of Loch Greer. My father started the festival twenty years ago to raise funds to make repairs on the castle. But now we do it to raise funds for the village. It's a big deal around here. We all dress up in period clothing. The men participate in the Strong Man games, and we all have a feast at the end.”

  "Sounds fun." Brianna smiles, and my heart starts to thump wildly in my chest.

  “You should come,” Ainslie says. “I’ve got the perfect dress for you to wear.”

  Brianna looks nervously at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should probably head out in the morning.”

  “You should come,” I say, the words coming out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them. The thought of Brianna leaving suddenly makes it feel like there is a clamp squeezing my heart. I don’t want her to go.

  “Yes, please come. We won’t take no for an answer,” Ainslie says.

  “It’s probably best that you agree to stay for the festival. My wee sister can be a pain in the arse when she gets it in her head that she wants something,” I tell her.

  “I guess I don’t have much of a choice then.” Brianna shrugs, her eyes glittering with amusement.

  Ainslie claps her hands in excitement. The phone rings, and she excuses herself to go pick it up, leaving Brianna and me alone. A silence settles over us like a blanket, and I try to think of something to say.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I had a late lunch before I came out here.”

  I nod. “Did you want me to take you up to your room? I’m sure that you are tired from your traveling.”

  “That would be nice.”

  I lead her up the grand staircase to the second floor. I have to slow down a few times when Brianna stops to look at a painting or antique sitting on display. I’m not much of a tour guide like Ainslie, so I just stand there patiently waiting for her to catch up.

  “Colin?” Her voice like velvet when she says my name.

  I turn and see her standing in front of an old painting my mother found in storage and restored years ago. Her arm is outstretched to me like she was reaching for me, but her gaze is glued to the image in front of her. My breathing sputters when I look at the painting. I've walked past it a thousand times, but it's at the moment that I feel like I'm looking at it for the first time.

  It’s a painting of Loch Greer. The artist must have been sitting near the tree line when they painted it. There's a blurred image of a woman standing near the water's edge. It's as if
a snapshot was taken earlier this evening when I found Brianna standing by the loch when the lightning flashed and painted it on this canvas.

  Brianna turns to me, her eyes searching mine for some explanation, but I have none. She runs her hand up her arm as if a cold chill has just run through her. I move forward and unfurl the blanket in my hands and wrap it around her. The book tucked inside falls to the floor, but before I can move to pick it up, Brianna is kneeling and scooping it up.

  “Thank you,” Brianna pulls the blanket tight around her.

  I want to tell her that there is a tub in her room that she can soak in to warm up, but just the image in my imagination of her naked body lowering herself into the steaming hot water makes my cock hard, and I need to get control of myself.

  “Your room is just this way.” I gesture down the hall.

  She follows me to the door of the best guest room in the house. I'm grateful our mother always insisted that we keep this room ready if an unexpected visitor showed up. Maintaining a room that hardly ever was used always seemed like a waste of time to me until this moment.

  “Everything you should need will be in there.” I open the door and flip the switch on the wall. The ornate sconces on the walls, meant to look like real candles, light up the room with a soft glow.

  “Thank you for your help today,” she says before walking into the room. “I hope my intrusion isn’t too much of a bother to you or your sister.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. We are happy to help anyone out when we can.”

  Brianna steps inside the room and turns around.

  “If you need anything,” I point over my shoulder. “My room is just down the hall—second door on the left.”

  Brianna nods, and we say good night. I don't move until she closes her door. I'm sure Ainslie is downstairs waiting to pepper me with questions, but I’m not in the mood. I just want to clean up and go to bed.