Free Scot of My Dreams by Janice Maynard

for a vacation romance?”
    I felt myself getting heated. In more ways that one. “Hayley and McKenzie are the ones who think they’re going to find their soulmates in the Highlands, not me. All I want to do is learn how to relax.”
    “I’m happy to offer my services in that regard.” He leaned back in his chair and played with his wine glass. I couldn’t help but notice his hands. They were large and tanned and graceful. It was easy to imagine him wearing one of those fluffy shirts with the lace at the wrist.
    I was sure those big hands with the long fingers would be infinitely talented in pleasuring a woman. The knowledge was instinctive and based entirely on the unsettling sexual awareness that simmered between us.
    On his right hand, he wore a signet ring that looked old and valuable. “Is that a family crest?” I asked, pointing to his ring and hoping to shift the conversation to less volatile topics.
    His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Aye. Every laird of the MacBraes has worn this ring at one time or another. ’Tis been passed down through the generations.”
    “Your father wore it?” Bryce had allowed me to change the subject, but the amused twinkle in his shockingly blue eyes told me he was merely biding his time.
    “He did. For a number of years. When I turned twenty-five, though, my mother’s declining health convinced him they needed to move to Italy, where she was born. They’ve been raising grapes and enjoying a golden early retirement, although they did come back to Dunvarstone for six months when Abigail’s husband was killed. She needed all of us to get her through that rough time.”
    “And your grandfather?”
    “He died young. My uncle Horatio, whom you met, has been a de facto grandparent to Abigail and me.”
    “But he didn’t inherit the castle and the estate?”
    “Sadly, no. It goes from father to son.”
    “Sadly?” I couldn’t see why owning a castle was a bad thing.
    Bryce’s gaze was guarded now. “I never wanted to be the laird. I’ve had a millstone around my neck for twelve, almost thirteen years now. ’Tis not the way I imagined living my life.”
    He lifted a hand for the check. I sensed he had said more than he intended. But at least we were no longer talking about sex and romantic Scottish novels. I had a breather to regroup and decide how to proceed.
    As we left the restaurant, Bryce touched my arm. “Do you feel like walking a bit?”
    “Of course.” It was a beautiful evening, warmer than the ones previous.
    He led me through the older parts of town. “Inverness has a rich history, as you might imagine. Historians have documented proof of a settlement here as far back as the sixth century. The actually city charter was granted in the twelfth century. Our little metropolis is growing rapidly, in part because of the quality of life.”
    I nodded. I couldn’t imagine anywhere more charming to raise a family.
    Though it was Friday night, the streets were peaceful. Occasionally, noisy music and laughter spilled from a pub or a restaurant, but the shops were closed. I was content to walk with Bryce and revel in the simple pleasure of an evening with an interesting man.
    We turned a corner, and I found myself staring at the hotel where I had spent my first night in Scotland. My heart clenched with sudden longing to see my two friends. Was this how Claire felt when she discovered she couldn’t get back to modern-day Inverness? Though she had found much to enjoy in 1743, did she feel as if she were two different people?
    I shook my head slightly, trying to separate fact from fiction. I may not have traveled back in time, but the truth was, my current situation was so far removed from my day-to-day life that I was disconcerted.
    Bryce stopped and examined my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, with annoying perception. I didn’t want anyone to know me that well.
    “Nothing. Not really. I suppose I’m a little homesick.”
    It was a partial