Skies Over Caledonia: A Small Town Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Highlands Series Book 4)

Prologue

Five years ago

Ardnoch, Scotland

Ispotted him as soon as I strolled into the Gloaming. I froze, blocking the exit.

There were many appealing things about Scotland. Its beauty was a feast to my artist eyes. The musical brogue that changed from place to place. The fact that I could hang out legally in a bar at twenty years old if I wanted to. And the men.

At least the men here in the Highlands.

They were growing them damn nice here in the Highlands.

Like him. Sitting at the bar. Laughing with the pub’s hot bartender and co-owner, Arran Adair, whom I’d already met.

A traditional old building in the middle of the Highland village of Ardnoch, the Gloaming was exactly what you imagined a Scottish pub to be. Low ceilings with dark wooden beams, a roaring hearth on one wall, booth seating covered in a smart tartan fabric skirting the edges, with a few cute tables and chairs here and there. The pub was attached to the rest of the hotel and restaurant, and from the look of the architecture, it was the oldest part of the building.

I loved its atmosphere. As an artist, I was more focused on glasswork, but I liked to paint too. Mostly landscapes. I was not a Renoir by any means, but moments like this almost made me want to pick up a paintbrush. The pub was busy, but not as crowded as I knew it could get during the summer.

A large dog laid out by the fire, soaking up the heat on this dreary September day. People were smiling and talking, all the while nursing their drinks as chart music drifted out of the speakers on low volume.

My attention returned to Arran and the delicious man he conversed with. Arran owned the Gloaming along with his brother Lachlan, who also owned a private members-only club for TV and film professionals. It was situated in his family’s converted ancestral castle and estate on the outskirts of the village. My father, legendary film director Wesley Howard, was a club board member. We had a beach house on the estate, and my big sister Aria was the club’s hospitality manager.

Whenever I could get away from school, I visited. With Aria here and, well, just Ardnoch’s whole vibe … this place felt way more like home than Malibu ever had. Even Rhode Island where I attended the School of Design didn’t hold my heart like this place. I couldn’t explain why it so appealed to me.

But views like the one at the bar certainly explained some of it.

He was broad-shouldered and I could see the ripple of his biceps straining against his dark T-shirt as he leaned into the bar. Laughter lit up his face, and I felt an answering swoop of attraction low in my belly. I aged him at between five and ten years older than me, with dark hair cut short at the sides and long on top. I watched him a few seconds longer as he scrubbed a hand over his dark, neatly trimmed beard before saying something that made Arran laugh in return.

The man’s answering grin was so sexy, I swear my knees trembled.

Yes, please.

Although I had no time for a guy in my life right now. I’d had my fair share of trauma these last few years, I was unsettled in life, and unsure of where I was going. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun occasionally, and the guy at the bar made me want to have a whole lot of fun. I was supposed to be meeting Aria and her friends here in a little while, but I could fit in flirting before that.

Crossing the room, I hopped up easily on to the bar stool next to the hot mystery man. Our eyes met and I sucked in a breath. The stranger had the most beautiful jade-green eyes I’d ever seen. I wanted to capture the cool, pure color in my art.

For a moment, I think I gaped until his eyes flared before warming. Shaking myself, my answering smile was flirtatious before I looked at the bartender. “Hey, Arran. Can I have a club soda, please?”

Arran nodded in greeting, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Of course. How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Aye, always.” He winked at me. “Allegra, this is Jared. Jared, this is Allegra.” The helpful Scotsman moved to the end of the bar to make my drink.

Feeling the mystery man’s gaze, I turned to meet it. Wow. Those eyes. I just couldn’t get over them. “Hey. Jared.”

A smile quirked the corner of his gorgeous mouth as he held out a large hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Allegra.” His voice was deep but smooth. His accent was a little more pronounced than Arran’s, and I wondered if he was from another part of the country.

“You too.” As my fingers slid against his, a shiver skated down my spine, awakening tingles around the curve of my breasts. Whoa. His hand closed suddenly around mine like he’d felt the spark.

“Allegra is an unusual name.” He seemed reluctant to release my hand but slowly did.

At his questioning tone, I offered, “My mom is Italian.” I didn’t want to mention that he’d probably heard of Chiara Howard since she was a retired supermodel. When someone didn’t recognize me or know who I was, I liked to keep that information to myself for a while. I wanted people to get to know me for me, not for who my famous parents were.

“Really? But you’re American? Tourist or …” His eyes narrowed, something like disappointment dimming his expression. “You’re not a member of Ardnoch Estate?”

His obvious lack of enthusiasm over the idea made me even more reluctant to tell him who I was. I laughed instead. “Me? An actor? Um … no. I’m an artist. Just visiting.”

A club soda landed a little loudly in front of me and I raised my gaze from it to Arran. He wore a look of admonishment, like he knew what I was doing.

Mind your business, I directed silently.

He shrugged and moved away to serve a newcomer.

“A traveling artist,” Jared presumed, raising an eyebrow. “You sell any of your work?”

“I do. I mostly make art from glass. A few galleries sell my stuff.” That was the truth. But I didn’t mention that in compromising with my family about my future, I was also a student back in the States.

“Impressive.”

“What do you do?”

He smirked, took a slow sip of his beer, and wiped the foam off his lips. My eyes snagged on his mouth, my breath hitching a little at the thought of it pressed to mine. “I’m a farmer.”

“No.” The word shot out of my mouth in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

Jared raised an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t mean that how it came out. I just … you just … well, you don’t look like a farmer.”

“What’s a farmer supposed to look like?”

Wincing, I groaned. “I’m being offensive, aren’t I?”

He snorted, those stunning eyes twinkling. “It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” I blurted out.

His expression warmed again as his gaze danced over my face. “So do you.”

My large dark eyes were my favorite feature, but his were something else. “I’d love to capture the colors.”

“Forever the artist?”

“Maybe.” I leaned toward him. “So … farming? Were you born into it? You had to be. You can’t be more than … twenty-five?” I guessed.

He nodded slowly. “Spot on.”

“Well? Born into it?”

Something sad flickered in his gaze and he looked down into his beer. “Aye, something like that.”

Without thinking, I reached over to place a hand on his arm. It was warm and strong beneath my palm. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”

His attention drifted to my lips. The air charged between us, and I found myself leaning in closer. I couldn’t explain the pull. I didn’t know him. All I knew was that I was physically attracted to him on a level I’d never experienced before.

And I wanted to have sex with him.

There.

That was being honest with myself.

After my last relationship, it took a year of therapy before I finally started dating again, but I’d kept it casual. No relationships. Just hookups. My therapist, Gail, said that was normal and healthy for now, especially for someone my age.

At that moment, I wanted to get naked and casual with Jared. For the good of my mental health. Ha!

When our eyes met, I knew he saw the wicked thoughts in them.

We now both leaned toward each other, and my breathing grew shallow. “You fancy getting out of here?” he asked gruffly.

Straight to the point. I liked it.

I nodded, forgetting the purpose of my being in the Gloaming in the first place.

Reading the heated triumph on his face, we both moved to slide off our stools when my sister’s voice sounded behind me. “Oh, good, you’ve met Jared.”

I whipped around as my feet hit the floor and looked up at my big sister. Aria stood by the bar, her arm around her fiancé North. There was a tightness in her eyes, despite her warm smile as she glanced between us. “It looks like we’re first to arrive. Walker and Sloane are grabbing a booth.” She gestured across the bar where, sure enough, her friends were seated, watching us.

Just then, the pub door opened, and Sarah McCulloch and Theo Cavendish walked in. Theo was a famous screenwriter and club member. Sarah was a local who’d worked at Ardnoch as a housekeeper. She quit last year to pursue a successful career as a crime writer and was now in a relationship with Theo.

Familiarity hit me. I glanced from Sarah to Aria to Jared.

I knew him.

He was Sarah’s cousin. I’d witnessed the awful moment he’d told Sarah that their grandfather had died. Their grandfather … the farmer.

From whom Jared had inherited the farm.

Oh my God.

“Jared, this is my little sister, Allegra. She’s only twenty and in college in the States,” Aria added pointedly.

My head whipped around as I glowered at my sister. At her not-so-subtle warning.

But as Sarah and Theo approached and everyone greeted one another, I let my gaze wander to Jared. Whatever warmth had been in his expression was gone, replaced by a guarded look when our eyes met.

That wariness hurt more than it should, considering we barely knew each other, so as a whole group of us huddled around a booth, I did my best to be friendly to everyone. To engage. But my body was still wound up from the anticipation of sex and the disappointment of it not happening. I couldn’t help the way my attention drifted back to Jared as he sat directly opposite me. I wanted that warmth back. I wanted him to reveal his obvious attraction from earlier. He wouldn’t.

So I pestered him with questions about the farm, showing him my interest had not waned upon the discovery that our family members were friends.

But his interest had waned.

Jared made that perfectly obvious when he excused himself from our table and began flirting with some woman at the bar. She was attractive and definitely older than me.

They left together.

And I told myself the crushing feeling in my chest was an overreaction, and I should probably talk to my therapist about why.

Yet I think I knew why.

Some people I met, when they discovered who my family was, just wanted to hang around me to be near the spotlight and success and fame. Others assumed negative things about me, that I was spoiled and pampered and didn’t know a damn thing about real life. My own family thought that, so why not him?

Or—my rational mind fought through my insecurities—maybe he realized it was too complicated to hook up with someone in his friendship circle.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, I told myself as I left the bar with my sister and her fiancé. I didn’t want to hook up with a guy who could so easily trade in sex with me for someone else on the same night. That was a turnoff. I didn’t want to be interchangeable.

Even if it was just sex … I wanted to feel wanted for me in that moment, not just a body.

I had more important things to worry about than a stupid attraction to Jared McCulloch.

Like where I was going to live when college finished next year. What I was going to do. How I was going to build my business as an artist. How I could find a way to be close to Aria, who was the one person in the world who made me feel safe.

So much to think about.

When you’re a kid, no one talks about how overwhelming being an adult will be. One minute, there’s structure and safety and rules to guide you … and the next you’re flung out into the big wide world and expected to fly with wings you’ve never used before.

It didn’t help when those wings were a little broken.

But I had to figure out how to use mine. And fast.