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I sipped the last of my drink, looking away from her to hide my panic. Where the hell did that thought about Amanda wanting kids come from?
We flirt by spreadsheet, we fuck. That’s it.
She was London-bound after her work was done and she was evading my questions about dating after the audit. I may have no idea of our future, but I knew I had this moment.
I placed my glass down on the function table.
“So, hen,” I murmured in her ear. “Shall we make the most of this night together?”
She grinned, grabbed my hand and led me out the door without a care for who saw us and what they thought.
Chapter Fourteen
Stuart
I paced the foyer of Dunollie Castle, my kilt flaring every time I turned. I hadn’t seen Amanda since waking up beside her. I’d gone for a run but had been interrupted with a call about the boilers and parts deliveries - yet again. After a quick shower, and while Amanda had hers, I’d left to sort issues out with the still team. Thankfully, the day passed in a frenetic blur without hitches; the new boiler part holding up very well. I was running on nothing but adrenaline.
I looked at my watch and swore. Amanda said she’d be here by now. Said she had a surprise for me.
“Good evening, Stuart McAlister.”
Her voice was whisky and honey. I spun on my heel and saw her.
“You’re in tartan!”
Amanda did a twirl. Her navy-blue dress, the same from the whisky tasting in London, was a perfect match for a blue, black and green tartan sash she wore over her shoulder. The sash was secured with a brooch, and it swept down her body, covering her right breast.
“Lamont tartan, clan of the Turner family,” she said. “I had no idea until two days ago. Mum told me the Turners emigrated from near here and were aligned to the Lamont clan in Argyll. I managed to order the sash with express shipping in time for tonight. Your mum taught me how to wear it.”
I stepped closer, running the sash between my fingers, my hand brushing against her arm.
“To clasp your sash on your right shoulder means ye want to marry in your clan.”
“And if I didn’t want to?”
“Well, lassies who married outside their clan but wanted to show their family’s colours would drape it over their right shoulder, make a bow at their hip and fix it there with a brooch.” I traced over her left hip in lazy circles and her breath hitched. “And as for the single ladies…”
“Yes?”
“They’d just kiss the ones they thought were the best looking and, later, take them to their beds.”
She swatted my arm, giggling. “You had me there.”
“I’m quite serious,” I grinned. “Especially about bedding.”
“I looked over our data today and you’ve had quite enough bedding for two weeks.”
“I’ll have ye know, hen, it’s never enough.” I nuzzled her earlobe. “I missed ye this morning. And all day.”
“I’ll have you know,” Amanda murmured, running her hand over my shirt. “You look very fine in your kilt, and...”
I hoped she was about to say something about us, our future, even flying back to Australia.
“We’re in public, Stuart,” She pulled her hand away, clearing her throat. “You’re in a MacDougall tartan, like the Laird.”
My smile wavered. “Well spotted. We may be McAlisters but, tae be honest, we’ve been loyal to the Laird of Dunollie since we distilled whisky in the area. To us, it’s a surname, not a clan. Our allegiance, so to speak, is with MacDougal’s of Dunollie. Especially when he’s the chairman of your company’s board.”
“I bought a keyring from Dunollie with the MacDougall tartan. Would you believe our ancestor, James Turner, emigrated to Australia to reform convicts by preaching the bible? So, I’m ninety-nine percent Lamont, and one percent MacDougall for tonight. And 100% yours.”
