Under The Kilt: Kilted For Pleasure Part 18

"Aye," he said simply.

Things were moving so fast she could barely keep up. He loved her. He wanted their baby. He wanted to marry her. She pressed her face back into his shirt and couldn't hold back the flood of tears. She wanted to blame hormones, shock, but it was him. Just him.

He held her to him and murmured soft, comforting words. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

The question was could she trust him? Victoria rubbed her face into his shirt to get rid of the tears before she met his gaze. She could still see the faint touches of grief in his eyes, but she could also see love. And she knew he'd lie for her. He'd wake up early in the morning just so he could be with her. He'd be honest even when she hated the answer. He would never break a single promise he made to her. And if she told him no now, he'd let her go.

She cupped his face, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Callan, I love you."

He swallowed, his gaze open for her to see everything he felt for her. And it rocked her. He may never be a lighthearted man but when he gave, he gave his all.

Victoria asked, "What's next?"

"The Chieftan of the clan was good enough then to recognize this promise." He glanced over her head. "There's ours."

She followed his gaze and saw Dougla.s.s. "If he's our Chieftan we're screwed as a clan."

Callan laughed. "And that's why we tended to exchange these vows in a room full of people." He frowned. "Where are my cousins?"

"In the pub," she said.

"Baird," Callan said.

"They're on their way up," Dougla.s.s grouched back.

"Good." He kissed Victoria on the forehead and kept wiping away the tears that had continued to fall.

They both sighed when his cousins came in. She braced herself for what came next because it would be pretty clear she'd broken all the rules. All the rules.

"Relax," Callan whispered. "I will beat him b.l.o.o.d.y if he fires you."

"You can't," she said scandalized and a little bit proud.

"I will," his tone had turned a bit savage.

Ian's brows went up and he looked at Dougla.s.s. "What's going on?"

No surprise, Tristan shared Dougla.s.s' smile. "Oh, Callan. I didn't expect to see you here. It's almost like someone planned it."

"I so got conned," Victoria muttered.

Callan laughed. "You probably did. He's a shifty b.u.g.g.e.r, but he's a good enough witness for this."

She shook her head and looked at Callan. "A witness?"

"Betrothals require witnesses. And, you should know if a marriage promise is consummated prior to the wedding date it's considered a marriage."

Ian said to Victoria, "I should have known."

Tristan supplied, "And you have no stones to throw. What was Jocelyn to you? You know, before you married her? A coworker, right?"

Ian muttered a curse at the truth.

She tensed and Callan let out a growl. Ian sighed and turned to Victoria, his tone soft and kind, "Betrothals are not legal and binding anymore. You can still find someone who wouldn't sing Robert Burns' diddies when they get smashed. Find someone else to marry." Ian shook his head, likely knowing she wouldn't. "You took one of my best f.u.c.king employees," he directed this to Callan. "You manky b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

He hushed his cousin, but said to her, "Don't listen to him."

She laughed, her face flushed. "He just said I was one of his best employees."

"Only an idiot would think you weren't. You're a shark." Callan kissed her brow and then the corner of her mouth. "Will you marry me?"

She blinked fast but couldn't stop the next wave of tears. She had no doubts, no hesitation when she said as her answer, "I, Victoria Marie Burke, will take you as my husband as soon as my parents and sister get to Scotland."

The Baird moved beside them. Pleasure creased Callan's laugh lines. It took her a moment to understand what was happening. Dougla.s.s held a foot-long strip of plaid in his hand. She'd done research, a ton of it and her heart ached at this simple ritual, not complicated at all.

Her features softened. "But you said only purist or tourist had plaids and that you weren't a big enough clan to have one."

The Baird held up the fabric. "We're part of a bigger clan that has one and...we make an exception for marriage to actually use it," Dougla.s.s said. He took the foot long plaid and stretched it out. "Take his hand."

Without hesitation she did and the Baird tied their hands together. Callan said when his uncle finished, "If you're insane enough to love Scotland, I don't think you will mind this instead of a ring right now." He closed his eyes and kissed their joined hands. "Consider this my engagement ring, la.s.s."

She laughed, her heart filled with so much love. "I did. I fell hard for Scotland and then you."

His expression turned somber. "Are you sure? Do you have anymore doubts?"

She started to shake her head before she said, "No."

His hand went to her stomach "A wee Baird." He rested his head on hers and whispered, "Every day, my la.s.s. Every day I will love you. I promise. I love you, Burke."

Her throat felt tight but she put her hand over his. It took her a moment to find the ability to speak. "Are we supposed to kiss to make this engagement official?"

"No, but kiss me anyway."

Though it was just their beginning-her and their family-Callan started to make good on his promise and he kissed her like it would be their last one.

BIO.

Melissa Blue's writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She's still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.

Where to find me online: My Website My Facebook Author Page My Twitter Where you can sign up for my newsletter to get updates on new releases: Newsletter

Special Thanks

It takes a village, as always. I must thank Jennifer Leeland who took the brunt of this book. It was ugly when I sent it to her. She pushed me on the right path. Then came Amie Stuart who drop-kicked it into next week. I may have whined, but by G.o.d, this is book is so much better because of you. I seriously cannot thank you enough. My poor, sweet editor, Shawna. You try, you do. My Lit Divas get a huge thanks for putting up with me on almost a daily basis. Holley, LV and Ambrielle...y'all keep me sane in this crazy biz.

If there is anything wonky in this story it is not because my village didn't try. It's all on me.

Other t.i.tles by Melissa Blue

Under His Kilt, Under The Kilt Jocelyn Pearson is determined to spend her last month as a twenty-something doing everything she's too busy or scared to try. Her imagination runs wild and then fixates on Ian Baird. He'll be working at the Langston Museum for a short stint as a consulting curator. He's Scottish. He believes s.e.x is fun to be had. He's the perfect choice for a fling. She only has to get him break his rule about sleeping with co-workers. Seducing a man was on her bucket list...

Ian is no one's fool and knows exactly what Jocelyn wants-him. If she didn't work for the Langston Museum, he'd be more than happy to oblige any and every fantasy she desired, but she's the curator. She's sweet, inexperienced and well liked by everyone including the museum owner and director. Ian can't risk losing such an important contact for his consulting business. Not even when everything within in him craves a taste of her.

When Jocelyn sets her sights on him, there's no way Ian can deny her. They agree their affair will end in thirty days. No emotions, no entanglements, just s.e.x. The closer the end date looms, they start to question if it's possible to walk away. They'll either have to come to terms of what they've become or stick to their original agreement.

Her Insatiable Scot, Under The Kilt Keri Pearson is currently between jobs, so there's nothing to lose when her cousin promises her a glowing recommendation from a top expert in their field in exchange for a small favor. All she has to do is lie about who she is and pretend to be married to a charming Scot for three hours. Her s.e.xy-as-h.e.l.l pretend husband makes it too easy to play the part of newlyweds. The last thing she should do is trust him or the genuineness of his l.u.s.t or adoration, but his touch ignites an unexpected desire.

Tristan Baird turned his back on his past with plenty of regrets, but when his brother blackmails him, Tristan can't say no. Given his brother saved his neck, an afternoon doing what he does best doesn't seem like too much to ask. And it's for a good cause. Doing the job right guarantees his brother and new wife will have the home of their dreams. But his stunning accomplice complicates the job. She is everything he always wanted and couldn't have. The kind of woman who is too smart to ever trust a former conman.

The three-hour commitment stretches into five s.e.xually charged days as they fight the explosive connection. As each day pa.s.ses, Keri must remind herself what is true and what is false, but the lines are blurring. Tristan can only hope his past doesn't come back to ruin their future.

Weekend Lover, Down With Cupid Shorts series The weekend that started it all...

Sebastian Clark's intentions are simply to buy Nicole, a beautiful stranger, a drink, make her laugh and disappear before dawn. As a publicist for Snapshot, his days are long and his moral code is to always keep things light. Until he touches her and l.u.s.t fades any lasting hold on common sense. His questionable motives pave a road to unbelievable pleasure.

Nicole Harrison is on the fast track for a promotion at Limelight, a PR boutique. She's given up dating, especially handsome men. They tend to suck up time and sometimes common sense. Sebastian has the ability to do both. One single night won't break her own rules and Nicole gives in to temptation.

The boundaries are clear-no last names, no shared details. She has only to walk away to end the affair. One night turns into three, and her naughty little weekend becomes more than just s.e.x.

One night of consenting pleasure sets Sebastian Clark and Nicole Harrison on a course that could ultimately destroy them both, or bring them a love for all time...

Down With Cupid, Down With Cupid Shorts series Two months after a weekend of forbidden pleasure should have been more than enough time for Nicole Harrison to forget Sebastian's charming smiles and wicked kisses. During those nights together, Nicole temporarily left behind her driven lifestyle as a publicist and took what she wanted, experiencing freedom and the wild abandon of their reckless agreement. And that's the hardest part to erase from her memory.

Unfortunately, one detail was tantamount-Sebastian Clark is a publicist and now he's gunning for her job.

Sebastian never allows himself to get tangled in knots by a woman, and, yet, he can't stop dreaming about Nicole's silky thighs and ripe lips, how she'd shuddered under his touch. He doesn't need a woman who is more of a shark than he when it comes to PR, except he's seen every, single soft inch of her. Now they'll have to work side by side and somehow ignore what feels like unfinished business.

Will the weekend they spent together turn out to be more than they could have ever imagined, or will past hurts and career ambitions stand in their way? Only Cupid knows...

You find my full backlist on my website: My Website

Excerpt from Kilt Tease

Chapter One.

Katherine Campbell sipped her c.o.ke as the fate of her employment played out between a pregnant African American woman and a Scottish curmudgeon. She propped her feet up on the pub's booth's seat across from her, settling in since this argument showed no signs of ending any time soon.

That was more than fine, her feet hurt anyway and the pub was toasty. She'd trekked from St. Jude's, the hospital sponsoring her registered nursing work visa, thinking the Baird's Drunken Barrel was a straight shot from the location. It hadn't been, and she'd got lost twice.

Even then she couldn't entirely complain. Kate got to see Glasgow-the brick walkways, the bag pipe musicians playing across the street from a McDonald's, churches that looked more like castles. The past and present intermingled so effortlessly that it left her in a state of awe. The pub was no different-emphasis on pub. The framed-plaids along the walls were interceded by flat screen TVs. Even though the place was empty this early in the morning, she had no doubt it would be filled to the brim after opening its doors.

"Who is winning?" a deep Scottish baritone caressed her earlobe.

Kate jolted and whipped her head to the side to get a good look at the man who had somehow crept up on her and sat down behind her. Her stomach jittered and all the air in her lungs seeped out. He didn't need to come with a warning. The moment your panties spontaneously combusted let you know you were in over your head.

His shoulder-length dark auburn locks brushed the collar of his white shirt. His tapered nose crooked to the side, muddy blue eyes were sharp and jaw line was chiseled. He looked...hearty.

She'd been in Scotland for three weeks and had not seen his equal. They must have hid him somewhere, because women would lose their f.u.c.king minds if men like him just walked up and asked out-of-the-blue questions. Or those women drooled. Or were rendered silent.

Kate put the gla.s.s to her lips, took a long pull on the soda and then muttered so she wouldn't draw too much attention to herself, "You would think the Scot. Hands down. For an older man he's pretty as h.e.l.l. Could probably talk a nun into the religion of him. And she looks so sweet, helpless. The dimple, the gla.s.ses-her appearance screams softie. Right now her stomach is as big as she is. But, nope, she's dropped the f-bomb four times in the last two minutes. He's losing and can't even do it gracefully."

He let out a silky, seductive laugh. Oh, yeah. They kept this man under lock and key for public safety, but even with the laugh and the looks he gave off a quiet intensity. It was the eyes. They scanned the surroundings, her and meted out a silent judgment. This light exchange happened because he wanted it to.

The man gestured to the fighting pair. "She's put her hands on her hips. I think she's about to hit him with the coue de grace."

With curiosity, and concern for her own safety if she kept looking at him, Kate turned her attention back to the pair at the pub's counter. Behind them liquor bottles were situated in shiny metal contraptions that made it easy to pour with a k.n.o.b. In the mid-morning light they gleamed.

"Baird," the pregnant woman intoned with a hint of exasperation. With her hands on her hips the woman gave off the appearance of being formidable even at her five-foot-four height. "I'm tired of your b.i.t.c.hing. I'm just plain tired. Katherine's going to take care of you for the next few weeks. You will listen to her, because I swear on sweet baby Jesus's manger, if I have to deal with you, Callan, this baby and the wedding, I will find a way to smite you."

The man behind her whistled low and shifted on his booth's red cushions, placing his thick biceps on the wooden divider. The muscles in his broad shoulders made the white long-sleeved shirt scream for sweet, delicious mercy. "Every time she hits him between the eyes with something like that and he crumbles."

Her intrigue shifted back to him. "You know them?"

His gaze held a cautious curiosity as though uncertain if he wanted to answer. "Aye," he finally said.