Playboy in a Kilt E-Book

Kait Nolan

• Herausgeber: Take The Leap Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A notorious former playboy

As heir to Ardinmuir, Connor MacKean had one job: fulfill the marriage pact that's held his family captive for three-hundred years. Except his sister's the one who took the plunge, and now there's nothing standing in the way of him finding a real and lasting love. Nothing except the fact that the object of his affections has never seen him as anything more than her best friend's little brother.

A hard-working Cinderella who doesn't need a prince

The last thing Sophie Cameron has time for is a man. Her days are full keeping her flower shop afloat, expanding the event planning business she opened with her best friend, and keeping the promise she made to her late father to take care of her stepmother--even though Lorraine is more like a stepmonster. 

A fake engagement that's more real than either of them bargained for

The little white lie Connor told a former fling to escape his playboy reputation becomes a necessary reality when she shows up as maid of honor to plan a wedding at the estate. As a huge social media influencer, she could make or break Ardinmuir as a wedding destination, so Sophie agrees to pretend to be Connor's fiancée. But as the lines between fiction and reality blur,  Sophie begins to wonder if he's the answer to the fairy tale she doesn't think she deserves.

Leseprobe

Playboy in a Kilt

An Opposites Attract, Fake Engagement, Small Town Scottish Romance

Kilted Hearts

Book Three

Kait Nolan

Take The Leap Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by Kait Nolan

Cover Design by Najla Qamber

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Contents

Invite

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

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Other Books By Kait Nolan

About Kait

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One

“She didnae even try to deny it.”

Connor MacKean took one look at Hamish Colquhoun’s face and opened the door of his Airbnb wider. After seeing his best friend’s wife out at a club in another guy’s arms, he’d expected this visit.

Hamish stepped inside, prowling over to the window that afforded a glimpse of Edinburgh Castle—if you angled just right. Not that Connor thought his friend was admiring the view.

He shut the door. “Did you expect her to?”

“I dinna bloody ken. It’s no’ like there’s a manual for how to confront your wife about having an affair.” Temper had him sliding from his usual perfect diction back into the Highland Scots accent that had largely faded over his many years as a lawyer in Edinburgh.

Connor winced and wondered for the hundredth time if he’d done the right thing in telling Hamish what he’d seen at the club last night.

As he had for many years, he’d come to the city to celebrate New Year’s Eve, expecting to break his eight-month hiatus from women and find an interesting companion to share his bed for the night. Instead, he’d turned down an offer from one of his charming former flings with an off-the-cuff lie about being engaged. To Sophie Cameron, his sister Kyla’s best friend, of all people. Realizing he wasn’t at all in the right headspace for the games he’d once been so damned good at, he’d turned to leave and spotted Dayna on the dance floor, snogging Kyla’s ex.

How could he keep his mouth shut about that?

Not knowing what else to do, Connor crossed to the kitchen of the apartment and poured a glass of Glen Moray single-malt whisky. Then, figuring this wouldn’t be an easy conversation, he poured himself one as well and carried them both to the window.

“I’m sorry. I ken I’ve basically blown up your life. But I just couldn’t go on knowing what she’d done and let you continue your marriage as if everything was fine.”

Surprise momentarily blanked out the misery on Hamish’s face as he accepted the glass. “You weren’t the one who blew up my life, mate. I’ve been doing a damned fine job of that all on my own.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hamish took a long sip of whisky and closed his eyes. “Things havenae been right with Dayna for a long time. They were maybe never right, but I couldnae admit that to myself. Especially not once we had Freya. Not when I couldnae have…” He trailed off and drank again.

Connor frowned, wondering where all this was coming from. “Not when you couldnae have what?”

Hamish stared at the floor, his throat working. Guilt was etched in every line of his body when he met Connor’s gaze again. “Afton.”

Stunned to the marrow, Connor could only stare.

Afton Lennox had been part of their band of friends since childhood. And because of a three-hundred-year-old marriage pact between the MacKean and the Lennox families that held the fate of their respective estates hostage, she’d been Connor’s intended bride from the moment she’d been born. Connor had long since resigned himself to his familial duty, and he’d made it a point to be friends with the woman he’d expected to spend the rest of his life with. But he’d deliberately avoided romantic entanglements with her, figuring it was better to enjoy his freedom while he had it, as he had no intention of breaking his vows once he took them.

How could he not know that Hamish had feelings for her? What kind of selfish prick was he not to have seen?

But he started thinking back to how Hamish had behaved around Afton. He’d always been a little more formal with her. Less physically comfortable and affectionate than he was with the rest of their group. So far as Connor knew, they’d never really hung out on their own. He’d just assumed they had little in common, but maybe it had been something else entirely. Maybe it had been about maintaining a strict propriety because, so far as Hamish was concerned, she’d been taken. He couldn’t have pursued anything with her because she was meant to marry Connor.

“I dinna ken what to say.”

“There’s more.”

Realizing his friend was determined to unburden himself, Connor took a bracing sip of his own drink. “All right.”

“I kissed her.”

“When?”

He hesitated. “The day before she disappeared.”

“Oh.” Probably he ought to say more than that, but it was all he could manage through the shock. That had been just a week before the wedding that wasn’t.

“I didnae plan on it. And I never set out to betray you. I swear it.”

Seeing Hamish’s knuckles going white, Connor gripped his shoulder. “You didnae betray me. I was never in love with Afton. You ken that well enough.”

“It’s not just that.” Misery bowed his shoulders as he dropped into a nearby chair. “I’m the one who told her about the loophole. That she could gamble away the estate.”

“Oh.” Connor knew he was beginning to sound like a broken record, but none of this was what he’d expected in the wake of Hamish confronting Dayna about her infidelity.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone. But I saw how much Afton was struggling with your impending wedding and being trapped in an arranged marriage, and I couldnae not tell her. Even though I knew it could mean that you and Kyla would lose Ardinmuir.”

Connor thought back to what Hamish had said to him at the “engagement” party the day the final banns had been read. That he hadn’t been doing right by Afton. And he’d been correct. Connor had been all caught up in his own feelings about their imminent marriage and had given up on the idea of ever getting out of it. Hamish had spent most of his career as a lawyer searching for a way and finding nothing.

Another piece clicked into place.

“So, all those years you hunted for a way to dissolve the marriage pact…?”

Hamish nodded. “It was the reason I went into law. I’d likely have done it just for you, either way. But I hoped I’d find something that would free you both. And I did. But when I told her, I never dreamed she’d actually go through with it.”

Instead, Afton had surprised them all, sneaking out of town and heading to Las Vegas, where she’d gambled the entirety of her estate, Lochmara, to an American cowboy. The one his sister Kyla had ended up marrying seven months ago, thus resolving the pact and saving their ancestral home from the longest-standing threat they faced.

“I think you can stop beating yourself up over that. Because Kyla and Raleigh are perfect for each other, and you saved me from a loveless marriage. In the end, it all worked out for the best. At least regarding us. If you need my forgiveness, you have it.”

“Thanks for that.” Hamish drained the last of his glass.

Understanding that his friend’s honor might need a little more, Connor pressed further. “And if you think you need my permission to pursue Afton, you dinna. She was never mine. Not in any real way.”

“It’s a non-issue, as she’s dropped off the face of the earth since she went to the States.”

A detective had tracked her as far as Vegas. Once Raleigh had come to claim Lochmara, they’d let the search drop, expecting her to return home eventually, at least to collect her things.

“She hasnae been in contact with you, either?” Connor asked.

“I’d have told you if she had. And anyway, I’m still not free. Not yet, anyway.”

Connor settled back in his chair. “So that’s it, then? No attempt at counseling or whatever?”

“There’s no point. Dayna and I have been having problems for a while. This was just the final nail in the coffin. At least we willnae have to deal with the full year of separation. I think maybe that’s why she had the affair. She wanted out.”

“It’s a bloody terrible way of going about it.”

“I dinna disagree. But I think we’re both relieved at the prospect of being done. Our marriage has become a farce. So, yes, I’ll start divorce proceedings this week.”

“And then what?”

Hamish loosed another long sigh, rolling the glass between his fingers. “That’ll depend on what custody arrangements are agreed on. I want to move home to Glenlaig, and I want to bring Freya. I have no idea if Dayna will fight me on that.”

“Well, of course, you can both come and stay at Ardinmuir while you get back on your feet, so you’re not tucked up in your parents’ spare room.” What was the point of living in a massive, six-hundred-year-old castle if you couldn’t provide space to friends?

“It’ll be a while before we get to that point. But thanks for the offer.”

Connor retrieved the bottle of whisky and poured them each another glass. “Well, for better or worse, it’ll be good to have you home. In the meantime, is there anything else I can do to help?”

Hamish drained the second glass. “Just keep the whisky coming.”

* * *

“I thank ye so much for staying open late for me today.”

Sophie Cameron beamed a smile at the elderly gentleman on the other side of the counter. “Of course, Mr. Fraser. I’m just relieved everything turned out all right at your doctor’s appointment.”

William narrowed faded blue eyes and grimaced. “Bunch o’ bother and nonsense. I’m healthy as a horse. But the missus insists they do the tests to prove it.”

“As well she should. You’re a catch. She’d never find the like of you again.”

Her elderly customer blushed up to the tips of his ears.

At eighty-two-years young, William Fraser had been married to his wife, Hettie, for sixty-one years. The two of them still had regular date nights in the village and could frequently be seen walking the high street hand-in-hand. Every week, like clockwork, William stopped at Sophie’s flower shop and bought a bouquet of Hettie’s favorite blooms. As far as Sophie was concerned, the pair of them were #relationshipgoals, and she adored having the privilege of helping him bring a little brightness and love to his wife. It was the least she could do for the man who’d been her most regular customer since she’d bought Village Blume from her boss, Agnes McNeary, years before.

She handed over this week’s clutch of hothouse tulips in a vibrant shade of pink. “These are sure to help combat the dreary skies.”

“Aye, that they will. See you next week, lass.”

“I look forward to it, as always. Tell Mrs. Fraser I said hello.”

“I’ll do that.”

After seeing Mr. Fraser off, Sophie finally turned the sign in the front window to Closed and went through the usual routine to lock up for the night. It didn’t take long. She’d already cleared her workstations in the back while she’d been waiting for William to arrive, so she only needed to shut down the POS system and review tomorrow’s list of arrangements. After checking one last time to make certain the cooler where she kept her stock was closed, she locked the door. For a fleeting moment, she considered walking up to The Stag’s Head pub for supper. She was exhausted. But she still had a few hours’ work to do for her second job, so she opted to head home and put together a sandwich and cuppa soup to eat at her computer.

Darkness fell so early in the Highlands this time of year. Not that it stopped the residents of Glenlaig from getting out and about. Sophie nodded in greeting to the many familiar faces she passed on the walk home. She loved that. Loved living in a village small enough to know most everyone. Or feel like she did, at least. It meant that she was witness to all the joys of her friends and neighbors. The births, the weddings, the anniversaries, the celebrations. And she was there to pay respects at the tragedies. The deaths. The illnesses. Flowers had the power to mark all of it. It was a big part of why she loved them. Why she’d chosen them as a career. There was too much ugliness in the world, and she wanted to combat that with joy.

Of course, having a flower shop in a small Highland village didn’t exactly make her flush with cash. Which was why she still lived at home with her stepmother. And also why she and her best friend, Kyla MacKean, had started an event planning business around Kyla’s home estate of Ardinmuir. A centuries-old castle made for a hell of a backdrop for weddings. They’d even hosted a couple of retirement parties and a bat mitzvah so far. The business had gotten off to a bumpy start, but they were finally in the black. Not enough to make a huge difference to her personal bottom line. Not yet. But they’d been able to expand enough to hire some part-time staff, which was necessary to keep them both sane.

Chilled through by the end of the half-mile walk to the house, Sophie was looking forward to that soup. And maybe even a long, hot bath, if there was time before settling in for work and a cuddle with Cori, her ancient Grand Dame of a cat. She carefully stomped the snow off her shoes before letting herself inside. Out of long habit, she slipped the shoes off and put them in the drip tray.

“Sophie? Is that you?”

Lorraine’s voice called out from the lounge, and Sophie knew by the wheedling, faux-frail tone that her plans for the evening had just gone up in smoke.

Tension lodged itself between her shoulders. Of course it’s me. Who the bloody hell else has a key?

Breathing through the frustration, she modulated her tone. “Yes, Mum.”

“Come here.”

Never a “please.” Just a demand.

Sophie flexed her hands into fists, then released them again as she went to see what her stepmother wanted.

Lorraine was sprawled out on the sofa in what Sophie privately thought of as her Fainting Couch pose. She looked like the heroine in some old silver screen movie, stretched out with a forearm draped across her brow. A blanket was draped over her lap, and a plate with the remains of whatever her dinner had been sat on the coffee table, next to an assortment of glasses and evidence of multiple snacks. Evidently, she’d been camped out here for a while.

“Be a dear and clear all this away, and make me a cuppa tea. I just canna make it to the kitchen again.”

Sophie wondered what today’s ailment was. So many of them felt performative. She’d never called Lorraine on any of it. She didn’t live in the other woman’s body or head. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps her stepmother did actually suffer from a myriad of chronic illnesses and deserved the disability check she got from the government every month, though Sophie had never seen any medical documentation to that effect. Still, she’d made a deathbed promise to her father to take care of Lorraine, and that’s what she’d done all these years.

Thinking of him and his big, booming laugh, and the hugs that had made her feel safe, no matter what was going on in her world, Sophie gathered up the dishes and headed for the kitchen. She stopped dead at the sight of it. No wonder Lorraine couldn’t make it to the kitchen again. It appeared that whatever she’d made had required the dirtying of every pot, pan, and dish in the house. The stove, the table, and every counter were covered. And there was Coriander, crouched over a dish, tan tabby-striped tail twitching as she licked.

Sophie leapt forward, scooping her baby up and out of prospective harm’s way. Please let her not have eaten something that will make her sick.

Cori yowled in protest at being kept from her feast.

“You know you’re not supposed to be on the counters or table.”

Her yellow-green eyes narrowed in displeasure as if to say, “It’s hardly my fault Lorraine left all this temptation in my path.”

As if hearing the thought, Lorraine called, “Oh, and do the washing up while you’re in there.”

Sophie fought not to grind her teeth. Her stepmother always had the energy to make the messes but never to clean them. But she bit back the bitterness, knowing it would do no good to express her frustrations. Opening a tin of Cori’s proper food, she set her beloved girl on the floor and went to put on the kettle. This mess would have to be sorted before she could even fix her own supper. But perhaps there’d be some sort of leftovers in the fridge from this grand kitchen disaster. Tugging open the door, she found none. How on earth had Lorraine dirtied up so many dishes for something with only enough for her to eat? Disgusted and even more exhausted, Sophie doused a tea bag in boiling water and rolled up her sleeves to load the dishwasher. After a brief pause to deliver the tea, she dove into the rest.

It took nearly an hour to get through the pile, washing and drying and putting away, during which Cori finished only a few bites of her own food before disappearing in a feline huff. Frustration and resentments simmered with every piece of cookery equipment Sophie returned to its rightful place. By the time she’d finished, she didn’t even have the energy to assemble a sandwich. Grabbing an apple from a bowl on the counter and a granola bar from the cupboard, she quietly made her way upstairs to dive into work. Pulling up the email for Ardinmuir Event Planning, she responded to a few brides with updated floral design suggestions; revised a seating chart in accordance with the news that an upcoming groom’s mother had remarried, and he was afraid she’d make a scene with her new, younger, trophy husband; and updated some spreadsheets based on vendor quotes. Cori wandered over and circled in her lap twice before settling in, half on the edge of the laptop. Wiggling the computer a little, Sophie managed to toggle over to the website and answer a new query from an American bride about booking a consultation for a destination wedding. By the time she’d gotten through all of that, her brain was fuzzy with fatigue. Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe she could carve out a little time to work at the shop once she’d finished prepping the arrangements for the day.

Before logging out, she opened up her personal spreadsheet, entering the daily income totals and expenses for Village Blume and checking the column that auto-calculated exactly how long it would be until she could afford rent and living expenses on top of the rent for the shop itself. The goal was closer than it had ever been. Another six months. Nine, maybe, depending on how the event planning business went. Then she’d finally have the chance to be out on her own.

She’d been working her ass off toward this for years now, and seeing the progress she’d made left her with a deep sense of satisfaction beneath the exhaustion. She wondered if she could sneak downstairs for a glass of wine before bed. That seemed a fitting, small celebration.

But before she could even shut the laptop for the night, she heard Lorraine calling her name again.

Fighting down the frustration, she took a half-dozen slow, deep breaths.

Just six more months. I’ve done this for fourteen years now. I can do it for six more months.

Fixing a neutral smile in place, she set Cori aside and got up to see what her stepmonster wanted now.

Two

Connor eyed his great uncle across the expanse of the kitchen island. “Explain to me why you’re making a dessert to go on top of the dessert?”

Angus didn’t lift his gaze as he continued to pipe buttercream frosting onto one half of the wee macarons he’d made. “Because if I get a callback, I want to be able to show multiple skills in a single bake. And I think the macarons will provide a lovely bit of texture against the creme pâtissière and fruit of the tart.”

At nearly seventy-eight-years old, Angus had finally submitted his application to be a contestant on The Great British Bake Off. He’d always baked, but he’d been practicing in earnest for the past five years, which Connor, and everyone else they knew, had benefitted from on the regular. Which made Connor grateful for the fact that he had an active occupation to work off all the delights.

Munro Sinclair turned from the hob to peer over his shoulder. “It’ll look stunning.”

Angus’s lips curved, and his cheeks pinked at the praise, though his rhythm on the icing didn’t falter. The two men had been lifelong friends and had once been something much more. Connor didn’t know what their fallout years ago had been about, but Munro had popped back up after Angus’s heart attack last year. Since then, it seemed they’d sorted out their differences. Connor was thrilled to see it. His great uncle had devoted so much of his life to him and Kyla since their parents’ death. It was long past time Angus found his own happiness.

“Do you need any help? Everyone should be arriving soon.”

Angus waved the offer off. “I’ll be finished. It’s all about assembly from here on out.”

As if summoned by his words, the kitchen door opened, and Kyla strode in, followed by her husband. Even after all these months, Connor hadn’t quite gotten used to seeing a cowboy walk through his door. But though Raleigh Beaumont had moved across the world from Texas, he hadn’t changed his attire one iota. Connor appreciated that he was that comfortable in his own skin, and Raleigh had more than proved he was good people in how he’d taken to stewardship over Lochmara and all its tenants. Not to mention how he absolutely doted on Kyla. Connor had never seen his sister smile at her ex, David, like that.

The thought had him circling back to the reason he’d asked her to come a little early to their bi-weekly family dinner, and he felt a low pulse of dread. He wasn’t exactly sure how she’d take the news of the affair.

“Something smells divine.” Kyla crossed the room to hug Angus before moving to Munro to do the same.

“Cottage pie with something magnificent for dessert, courtesy of himself.”

“Mmm. That sounds wonderful.”

Connor jerked his head toward the hall. “Talk to you for a bit?”

Raleigh removed his ever-present black Stetson and hung it on a hook by the door. “Is this a siblings-only conversation, or you want me, too?”

“You might as well come on.”

Connor hated the way the color leeched out of Kyla’s cheeks at his words. So much of the burden of Ardinmuir had fallen on her over the years. He’d had his duty to wed, and for more than a decade, he’d left most of the rest to her. Only after she’d been the one to resolve the marriage pact had he discovered the true extent of what she’d been navigating on her own. Connor had been working his arse off to make up for that ever since.

The moment he closed the door to the family lounge, Kyla reached for Raleigh’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. At least, not like you’re imagining. I’ll be telling the others when they arrive. I just wanted to tell you first.”

“Tell me what?”

Connor took a breath. “Hamish is getting a divorce.”

His sister blinked the blue eyes that were so like his. “What? What happened?”

“He found out Dayna was having an affair. With David.”

Raleigh tugged Kyla into the shelter of his arm. “David? As in David Murray?”

“As in the David she threw over for you, aye.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shite. How did he find out?”

Of course she’d ask that.

“Because of me, actually. I saw them out together when I was in Edinburgh for New Year’s Eve.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s pretty hard to mistake the meaning of them having their tongues down each other’s throats.”

Her head kicked back. “Aye. Right. That’s… Jesus. Poor Hamish. Poor Freya.”

Raleigh squeezed her tighter. “What’s gonna happen now?”

“Hamish wants to move home and bring Freya with him, but it’ll depend on what sort of custody arrangement he and Dayna manage to set up.”

Kyla winced in sympathy. “How’s he taking it?”

Connor thought of what Hamish had admitted about his feelings for Afton. That definitely didn’t feel like his news to share. “To be honest, I think he’s a little relieved. He said things havenae been good with them for a while. So, I suppose in a way it’s a good thing.”

“I don’t get it,” Raleigh remarked. “I mean, obviously, I don’t have the best impression of David, but why the hell would she choose him over Hamish? He’s just so… bland.”

Kyla reached up to toy with the ends of her red hair, an old gesture that told Connor she was thinking. “They’re both city people, through and through. They don’t understand the way of life up here in the Highlands. David never understood my attachment to this place and my willingness to do anything to save it. Honestly, I think Dayna’s much the same. She gave Hamish a lot of grief over the years for his allegiance to us as friends and all the efforts he put into trying to find a way out of the marriage pact. She resented us. She tried to hide it, but I knew. So, in that sense, frankly, good riddance. I hope Hamish can come home. It’d be better for him.”

“That’s the bloody truth,” Connor agreed.

“Was that it, then? I mean, not that it’s a small thing,” Kyla amended, “but you could’ve just told us with everyone else.”

“I know. I just thought the news might bring something up for you, and I wanted to give you the chance to react in private, just in case.”

Her lips curved, and she stepped into him for a hug. “That’s thoughtful of you, Con, but I’m more than at peace with my choice. David was wrong for me on every level.”

“I wonder how long this thing with Dayna’s been going on,” Raleigh murmured.

“That I dinna ken. I have no idea whether it’s new or… er… longer standing.”

Kyla shuddered. “Well, that’s a sobering thought. I wouldn’t have believed David would cheat on me, but then I’d never have thought he’d get involved with a friend’s wife, either. Water under the bridge, at this point.”

“I say we wipe the nasty taste of the whole thing out of our mouths with the dinner that seemed just about ready when we got here,” Raleigh suggested.

“I can definitely get behind that.” Connor led the way back to the big stone kitchen.

Most of the rest of the guests had arrived. Charlotte Vasquez, Raleigh’s stand-in mother, was shoulder-to-shoulder with Munro, peering at the cottage pie resting on the hob. Her partner, Malcolm Niall, the estate manager at Lochmara, was filling glasses with ice. Gavin, the thirteen-year-old runaway who’d brought the two of them together, was helping Angus assemble the macarons. A sign of high praise, as Angus rarely let anyone help with his bakes. Ciara McBride, one of Connor and Kyla’s cousins, was washing berries at the sink. Her big brother, Ewan, who owned The Stag’s Head Pub in Glenlaig, was bent over at the fridge, shoving a six-pack inside.

Even as Connor took inventory, their final guest opened the door. Sophie slipped into the cheerful chaos of the kitchen like a shadow, her arms full of flowers. Greetings were tossed out, and though Sophie smiled and returned them, he could tell something was off. A tightness dimmed her smile and darkened her pretty grey eyes. As he took in the rest of her, he could see the tension in her shoulders and the too-tight clench of her hands around the flowers. From years of observation, he knew she’d had some kind of run-in with her stepmother.

So, as she slipped out to take the flowers to the dining room, he broke away to follow.

* * *

Sophie took advantage of the usual chaos of the family of her heart to escape. Putting together arrangements for a tablescape would afford her just enough time to recalibrate and shake off the encounter that had cast a pall over her day. She laid the bundles of flowers on the big dining room table and went to retrieve some containers from the breakfront cabinet that dominated one end of the room. When she swung around, she spotted Connor in the doorway and jolted, clutching the trio of vases to her chest before they could slip to the floor and break.

“Connor! You startled me.”

He stepped into the room, sharp blue eyes fixed on her. “Are you okay?”

In point of fact, she wasn’t okay. She was annoyed and frustrated and struggling to hold back a resentment toward her stepmother that seemed to grow by the day. But none of that fit with the woman she wanted to be, so she didn’t see the point in giving it voice.

“I’m fine.” So saying, she moved toward the table and began arranging the flowers. The movements were familiar and soothing.

Sophie felt the weight of Connor’s gaze on her as he crossed to grab the placemats, napkins, and silverware. He said nothing as he laid everything out, until he finally stopped directly in front of her, on the opposite side of the table.

“You ken it’s okay if you’re no’ fine, right?”

Surprised, she lifted her eyes to his. That familiar face was full of concern and a look of knowing that left her unsettled. Connor MacKean had never been a serious man. From the time he’d learned to toddle, he’d left that role to his sister and taken on the guise of a clown. For years, Kyla had lamented his inability to settle down and focus on anything real, but Sophie had seen what he’d really been doing—trying to emotionally lighten her load in the only way he knew how. By making her laugh. But there was nothing of the jester now.

She realized that, since Afton’s defection and the resolution of the marriage pact, he’d been far less the carefree playboy she’d known all these years. For the first time, she wondered what exactly it meant for him that the duty he’d been raised to carry out had been taken on by Kyla. How did that change things for him, beyond the obvious that he was no longer bound to marry someone he didn’t choose himself? And what did it say about her as a friend that it hadn’t occurred to her to ask until now? Did his question stem purely from concern for her, or from a deeper place of not being all right himself?

Sophie didn’t have a chance to ask because the others began spilling into the room carrying plates and dishes of food.

She quickly finished with the flowers and took her customary seat beside Kyla at the head of the table. Plates were passed and filled, family-style. The breadbasket made the rounds. Wine was poured for the adults present. Conversation flew fast and furious, saving Sophie from the need to add to it herself. She soaked in the atmosphere of love and affection in the room, feeling the rough edges smooth out as they talked about Gavin’s first week back at school after a term off, and discussed Angus’s chances at getting a callback for The Great British Bake Off. This was home, and these were the people she’d chosen as hers.

“Well, I for one am delighted to be done with uni and home so I can take advantage of all your practice,” Ciara announced, dipping a dinner roll in the gravy from the cottage pie with dramatic flare.

“And we’re glad you’re home and said yes to the job offer,” Kyla added.

“It’s good experience and gives me a way to build my skill set beyond just strapping on an apron to help himself here at the pub.”

Ewan sent her a bland stare over a bite of cottage pie. “Nobody made you sign on to be a server or offered you apartment space as part of the bargain.”

She batted long-lashed eyes at him. “I love you, big brother.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I confess, I didn’t expect the event planning assistant job to come with a massive game of canine hide-and-seek,” Ciara admitted.

The puppy Raleigh had gifted Kyla for Christmas was adorable and more than a handful.

“You and me both,” Kyla said. “The poor wee pup was howling for near to half an hour before we tracked him down under one of the beds upstairs.”

Raleigh picked up the story. “His collar had gotten stuck on the bed frame, and he couldn’t get out. Needless to say, we’re keeping doors shut right now so Dugal can’t get into any more trouble.”

Charlotte laughed. “I expect he’s got a ways to go before he’s free of that. Don’t you remember how long Pickles got into stuff when you were a boy?”

“Pickles?” Angus asked.

“He was my dog when I was a kid,” Raleigh explained. “Got him when I was about eight. Also a Christmas puppy. I loved that dog so damned much, but Lord, if he didn’t manage to seek out and roll in the smelliest thing he could find on at least a weekly basis. Given we lived on a cattle ranch, you can imagine there was ample opportunity.”

“That sounds right manky,” Ewan observed.

“If that means disgusting, you’re right,” Charlotte confirmed. “It only took a few months before Lily declared he was permanently an outside and barn dog. Not that the declaration stopped Raleigh from sneaking him into the house on the regular.”

“He was my best boy. And when he got old, he liked to soak in a warm bath to ease his bones. What was I supposed to do?”

“Such a softie.” Kyla leaned over to kiss Raleigh with clear affection.

The way his big hand came up to cup her cheek made Sophie sigh. After everything Kyla had been through, she deserved every moment of wedded bliss with her perfect cowboy. But there was a little pinch around Sophie’s heart. Not envy. Never that. She didn’t begrudge her friend a thing. But a yearning to find the same. A real relationship was something she’d filed in the “Someday” category, along with moving out on her own. Perhaps a part of her had expected to have found someone to merge her life with by now. Someone who’d help take her away from the parts of her life she didn’t like. But Sophie wasn’t a woman waiting around for a hypothetical prince to fix her problems. She was more than capable of saving herself. It just might take a little longer.

As dinner shifted to dessert, Sophie leapt up to help Angus pass out servings of his truly beautiful blueberry tart. She slid a plate in front of Kyla and noted the still full wine glass.

“Are you feeling all right? It’s not like you to skip the wine after the busy week we just had.”

In the moment’s hesitation, when Kyla looked to Raleigh, Sophie knew.

“Oh, my God. You’re not drinking your wine. Are you⁠—?”

Her smile lit up like the sun. “Pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Sophie hastily set the rest of the plates she was carrying down and bent to wrap her friend in the tightest squeeze. “I’m going to be an aunt! Holy crap!”

There followed a cheerful and tearful—on Charlotte’s part—cacophony of congratulations as everyone present hugged the mum-to-be and pumped Raleigh’s hand. Angus declared they needed to toast and promptly disappeared to find some fizzy juice for Kyla.

Connor was the one who lifted the first glass. “To my sister, for bringing along the next generation. I promise to be the favorite uncle and never to get my new niece or nephew into too much trouble. And to Raleigh. I’m glad she chose you, mate. I dinna think anyone could love her better.”

Damn if that didn’t hit Sophie right in the feels. Kyla pressed a hand to her heart. Charlotte, predictably, burst into a fresh bout of happy tears. Even Raleigh seemed a little shiny in the eyes as he reached for his wife’s hand.

By the time toasts made it around to Sophie, she’d gotten herself under control. “To Kyla and Raleigh. Thanks for giving me #relationshipgoals. I definitely won’t settle for anything less than what you two have found together. And I can’t wait until this wee one arrives so I can spoil him or her absolutely rotten. When are you due?”

“Toward the end of July.”

Which would be peak wedding season if everything went according to the business plan they’d drafted. Sophie instantly began thinking about what they’d need to do to accommodate if Kyla got put on bedrest and, at the very least, how they’d do without her while she was on maternity leave.

Kyla flashed an indulgent smile. “I can see your planner wheels turning. We’ll sort things out. Ciara will be fully trained up by then, and, with luck, we’ll be able to hire some more staff. There’s time.”

Not nearly as much as Kyla thought, but Sophie kept that to herself. Tonight was about celebration. “One point of business before we move to dessert. I booked a consultation with an American bride for the day after tomorrow at two. Will you be able to join?”

“Oh, damn. We’re going to be in Inverness at the doctor’s office for my first checkup.”

Sophie shifted gears. “It’s no trouble. I can go over our basic packages and get a sense of what she’s looking for and whether she’s really serious about considering us for a venue. If she is, we’ll work up the pitch together, as usual.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“No more business,” Angus declared. “This tart isnae going to eat itself.”

“I volunteer as tribute!” Gavin announced.

On a chorus of laughter, they all dug in.