Free Scottish Brides by Christina Dodd Page A

wedding?” she whispered.
    My God, was she talking about what he thought she was talking about?
    â€œOur wedding,” she clarified. “A wedding is usually the only reason you’ll see my cousin Malcolm anywhere near Castle MacNachtan. He’s afraid I’ll ask for money. And a wedding is free food and drink.” Hadden was still too dumb-founded to speak, so she added, “I saw his whole family out there. He’s very thrifty, you ken.”
    Hadden caught her hand in his. “Andra, I swear I never planned this.”
    â€œI’ll acquit you.”
    â€œI seized the chance I was offered, and without regret, too, to tell you—”
    She put her finger over his lips. “And tell me you did, in more ways than one. It’s a lot of sense you made, Hadden
    Fairchild, and while I am still afraid, I love you enough to take the gamble.”
    His heart, frozen and constricted for too long, expanded with joy. Taking her wrists, he reeled her in. “Andra . . .”
    â€œIf you’d look, you’d see that I’ve already accepted your proposal.”
    He glanced around but could see nothing. Nothing except—he laughed aloud—over his head, the black and red and blue MacNachtan marriage kilt.

 
    A Note from Christina Dodd
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    On a recent trip to Scotland, my family and I went looking for Brigadoon.
    We didn’t find it. The mythical village that appears out of the mist only one day out of every hundred years proved elusive to us, but Scotland holds many treasures. In the Low-lands we found Lady Valéry’s eighteenth-century manor (or one much like I imagined), the original setting of Mary Fairchild’s story in A Well Pleasured Lady. On the wild west coast we explored an estate much like the one Ian Fairchild won—along with his wife—in A Well Favored Gentleman. Finally, in the midst of the Highlands, we discovered a moldering castle, and I remembered, Mary’s brother Hadden, a man badly in need of a story. When I came home to Texas, the stones of that castle rose in my mind, and I created Andra to be a mate to the incomparable Hadden.
    I hope you enjoyed this tale, and as well as the Fairchild tales.
    And I’ll see you in Brigadoon.

Rose in Bloom
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    Stephanie Laurens

One
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    Ballynashiels, Argyllshire
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    June 17, 1826
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    â€œWhat the devil are you doing here?”
    Duncan Roderick Macintyre, third earl of Strathyre, stared, stupefied, at the willowy form bent over the piano stool in his drawing room. Sheer shock, liberally laced with disbelief, held him frozen on the threshold. A lesser man would have goggled.
    Rose Millicent Mackenzie-Craddock, bane of his life, most insistent, persistent thorn in his flesh, lifted her head and looked up—and smiled at him, with the same, slightly lopsided smile with which she’d taunted him for decades. Her large, light-brown eyes twinkled.
    â€œGood morning, Duncan. I’d heard you’d arrived.”
    Her soft, lilting brogue washed over him, a warm caress beneath his skin. His gaze locked on the expanse of creamy breasts now on display, Duncan stiffened—all over. The reaction was as much a surprise as finding Rose here—and every bit as unwelcome. His jaw locked. Fingers clenched about the doorknob, he hesitated, then frowned, stepped into the room and shut the door.
    And advanced on his nemesis with a prowling gait.
    Holding the sheets of music she’d been sorting, Rose straightened as he neared—and wondered why the devil she couldn’t breathe. Why she felt as if she did not dare take her eyes from Duncan’s face, shift her gaze from his eyes. It was as if they were playing tag and she needed to read his intent in the cool blue, still as chilly as the waters of the loch rippling beyond the drawing-room windows.
    They weren’t children any longer, but she sensed, quite definitely, that they were