Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,61
in this country.
“Ye must be Elizabeth,” a woman says from behind me.
Thankfully, I’m dressed when I turn around and see the woman of the manor. Her hair is whitish red and pulled back in a bun. She’s dressed similar to me, sans the long underwear, and her eyes are very much like Ethan and Kai’s in shape and color.
“You must be Isla.”
Her kind, green eyes smile, and she nods. “That I am. The boy and the wee one are waitin’ for ye in the back. Grab yerself some socks from Ethan’s dresser, and when ye hit the back door, there’s a pair of wellies waitin’ for ye.”
“Thank you so much. I appr—”
“Time for chatter later; the bonnie wee one is getting drookit.”
Holy. Shit. I only know what some of the words she said meant, and I highly doubt drookit means Kai is tipping back a pint, but I’m definitely in Outlander heaven.
Walking down the wide, wooden plank stairs, looking around, I am shocked that the walls are all white, brick, and not natural.
Like Ethan’s penis.
Tadger, we’re in Scotland.
I’m well-aware that I shouldn’t be thinking of Ethan’s manhood, or the fact things have definitely been updated since 1743, and I’m certainly not a time-jumping nurse, but whatever. I’m in Scotland, I’m in love, and I’m looking around his massive home, all white brick, exposed beams, and a roaring floor-to-ceiling fireplace, and I’m in love with it, as well.
I wouldn’t time-jump to Jamie when I have Ethan. Although the thought of him in a kilt or a white nightgown turns me on completely.
I walk to the back where I find a pair of red wellies and shove my feet in them. Then I open the door, and my heart swells as I look out at the lush green grounds and see Kai running around, laughing in red wellies and a raincoat, her black hair flying around behind her in the wind. Every time I see her smile, hear her voice, listen to her talk, I think there isn’t any possible way I could love her more. But I do, each second of each day.
I look for Ethan …
And then time stops.
“Holy. Shit.”
“He’s a sight, isn’t he?” Isla whispers from behind me. “Go get yer man, Elizabeth Bloom. And welcome to Scotland.”
Walking toward Ethan, unable to look away from him in the red, blue, black, and white plaid patterned tartan, ankle-high black boots, with wool socks peeking out and cuffed, a leather pouch hanging in the front, and a black sweater with the sleeves pushed up, I am a mess of tingles and heartbeats.
Isla chuckles. “Go on now.”
“I-I-I can’t move,” I stutter.
“Ye better get to getting. I’ll be taken Kai to a picture to give ye some time alone to find out if the rumors are true.”
“Rumors?”
“What does a Scottish man wear under his kilt?” She chuckles again.
“Could you give me a shove?”
“Aye,” she says then pushes against my back.
“Daddy, she’s coming!” Kai yells as she runs toward him.
I walk very slow with a clear purpose—to openly gawk at the sight that’s before me.
He’s probably not looking at you the same way.
He loves me.
“Daddy has surprises for us.” Kai jumps and claps.
He smiles at me, and I’m pretty sure I had a small orgasm in front of Kai. Oddly, since she doesn’t know, I’m going to allow myself to bask in it.
When his eyebrow rises, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this knowledge.
“Can ye wait a minute, Elizabeth Bloom?”
Still unable to speak, I nod, and he laughs.
“What did I miss? What was funny?” Kai asks.
“I think your daddy is the most handsome man on the planet,” I admit.
“Is it because he’s in a skirt?”
I laugh and nod. “It just may be.”
Ethan reaches in the leather pouch and pulls out a black box, no doubt more charms. Then he squats down so he’s eye-level with Kai. “I’m gonna tell ye, Kai, that no matter what yer answer may be, I’m gonna love ye the same.”
She cocks her head to the side.
“Will ye take on the Stewart name, Kai? Will you be Kai Kaplan-Stewart from now until forever?”
She nods. “Yep, I sure will!”
He opens the box, and inside is exactly what I suspected—a charm. Then he pulls out a chain matching mine. “This is for yer wrist.”
“Like the one on Lizzie’s ankle?”
“Aye. One charm is yer heart and yer birthstone, another yer mother’s, and the other mine. There’s a Scottish flag and—”
“Scotch!” She grins.
“Aye, that’s Scotch.” He puts it around her wrist, and she