CHAPITRE 1
KEIRA
Highlands alert: matchmaking operation in progress
I stare into my glass of whisky like it might hold the answer to life’s biggest question—how do I escape my grandmother without committing a full-blown family felony? Unfortunately, even the finest Highland single malt isn’t offering up any solutions. Which is a shame, because after forty-five minutes trapped at the table between Maggie McGregor and Robert MacAllister—the third “perfect match” she’s shoved in front of me this month—I’m seriously considering dropping everything and reinventing myself on the other side of the world.
“And as I was just explaining to Keira,” my grandmother announces to the room with the enthusiasm of a sports commentator trying to make curling sound thrilling, “Robert has recently acquired the entire western slope of Strath Finella to develop a luxury retreat.”
I look up just in time to see Robert puff out his chest. Literally. Like a pigeon in mating season. I nearly choke trying not to laugh.
“We’ve come up with a revolutionary concept,” he adds, waving his fork around. “Glass bungalows for stargazing. American tourists absolutely love it.”
I force a polite smile while a siren blares in my head. Glass bungalows. On Strath Finella. One of the last hills in the Highlands still untouched by tourist overload. A place home to centuries-old trees and nesting grounds for protected birds.
My smile tightens.
“Fascinating,” I say, in a tone that is anything but. “And what do you plan to do about the listed seventeenth-century structure at the top? The old watchtower?”
Robert flicks his hand dismissively, like he’s swatting away something insignificant.
“Oh, that ruin? We’ll keep it as a decorative feature. Add some spotlights. Very Instagrammable, you know?”
Heat floods my face, burning like the peat used to dry malt. Turning a historical monument into a selfie prop—that’s his grand vision. I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of his “Instagrammable” disaster when I meet my grandmother’s sharp gaze.
Don’t even think about it, Keira Isla McGregor.
I swallow my speech about architectural preservation and take a long sip of whisky. A very long sip.
“Robert also sits on the Highlands Tourism Board,” Maggie continues, shooting me a meaningful look. “A connection that could be quite useful for someone working in architectural preservation, don’t you think, darling?”
The reason I’m stuck at this painfully dull dinner is simple—my grandmother has decided to take control of my love life.And she has zero limits, even if it means disguising professional pressure as matchmaking.
Ever since her grand, slightly terrifying scheme turned my brother Callum’s arranged marriage to Jane into a genuine love story, Maggie has declared herself an “expert in reluctant Scottish hearts.” And unfortunately for me, I am now her primary project.
“Absolutely fascinating,” I repeat, draining my glass.
Across from me, my mother, Isobel, gives me a sympathetic look. She married into the McGregor clan—she understands my suffering. Callum, my traitorous brother, conveniently took Jane to Edinburgh tonight, leaving me to fend for myself. I make a mental note to hide one sock from every pair he owns so he’ll never wear matching ones again.
The image of him in one green and one blue sock almost makes this evening worth it.
“You know, Keira,” Robert says, leaning in far too close, his whisky-sauce breath invading my lungs, “I’ve always had a thing for passionate women.”
He says passionate like it’s something indecent we’re secretly sharing. I suddenly feel the need to check that every button on my blouse is still done.
“A passion for old stones is unusual,” he adds, “but charming.”
He winks. I briefly consider drowning myself in my plate of haggis.
“It’s not a passion for old stones,” I correct, struggling to stay polite. “It’s a commitment to preserving our cultural and architectural heritage—the stories that shape who we are and?—”
“What Keira means,” Maggie cuts in with a tight smile, “is that she’s very dedicated to her work. An admirable quality, wouldn’t you say, Robert?”
Robert nods like he’s just been handed the secret to eternal life.
“Absolutely. I like women with ambition.”
Another wink. I’m starting to wonder if it’s a medical condition.
