To Love A Scotsman

Special Smashwords Edition

To Love A Scotsman

A Romance Anthology

by Nicole Angeleen, Jannie Lund,

April Marcom and Lisa Aldridge

Published by

Satin Romance

An Imprint of Melange Books, LLC

White Bear Lake, MN 55110

www.satinromance.com

To Love a Scotsman ~ Copyright  2017 by Nicole Angeleen

The Heart of It ~ Copyright  2017 by Jannie Lund

Forbidden Suitor ~ Copyright  2017 by April Marcom

The Ring O’Callum Brodgar ~ Copyright  2017 by Lisa Aldridge

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-68046-443-6

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published in the United States of America.

Cover Design by Caroline Andrus

Who doesn’t love a Scottish romance?

Thank you, Nicole Angeleen, Jannie Lund, April Marcom and Lisa Aldridge, for writing these lovely, endearing, romantic stories readers are sure to enjoy. A year in the making of this anthology was worth the time and effort in producing it.

Nancy Schumacher

Melange Books, LLC

Table of Contents

To Love a Scotsman

To Love a Scotsman

The Heart of It

The Forbidden Suitor

The Ring O’Callum Brodgar

Previews

TO LOVE A SCOTSMAN

To Love a Scotsman by Nicole Service

When Delphine fishes a man out of the North Sea, the last thing she expects to find is love. Not a big fan of Scots in general, she is pleasantly surprised at her instant attraction to Larkin. The circumstances of their meeting are less than ideal. Delphine is only supposed to be in Edinburgh for a day, and then there’s the small problem that someone is trying to kill Larkin.

Delphine is so distracted by her new romance, she doesn’t see that the trip to Scotland is a trap until it’s too late. An old foe is hatching a plan to kidnap Delphine and steal the most important part of her life: her ship. While her encounter with Larkin feels ill-fated, if they are able to escape, it might turn out to be what saves them both.

The Heart of It by Jannie Lund

Sometimes you have to go to the past to find your future.

Photographer Katherine Wilkes knows how to find and zero in on the heart of things through her camera lens. Her own heart, however, is heavily guarded from being broken. Again. When a routine job yanks her seven hundred years back in time to medieval Scotland, she finds herself in big trouble. Not just because a ruggedly sexy, sword-toting Scotsman mistakes her for the king’s mistress and kidnaps her, but also because her walls she’s erected around her heart don’t seem to function properly in a time so different from her own.

The Forbidden Suitor by April Marcom

Long ago in the highlands of Scotland, a young woman came up missing, her disappearance creating two families of eternally sworn enemies. Four generations later, this everlasting hatred is tested when a descendant from each one comes together in a chance meeting full of laughter and deep attraction, not knowing what bad blood exists between them.

The Ring O’Callum Brodgar by Lisa Aldridge

In present-day Scotland, Anne Bradenegh is on an archeological excavation to the 18th century Castle Brodgar ruins, hoping to unearth some artifacts from the past. Instead, she uncovers her own past when she is visited by the mysterious Callum Brodgar, who has come looking for the cloak pin he lost centuries ago. Suddenly, but momentarily, she is thrust back into her former life and remembers snatches of what she has lost to the present. She must decide which life she will choose before it’s too late. The modern, professional life with her colleague and new love interest Cameron Sinha? Or the passionate life she once had in Castle Brodgar with Callum?

TO LOVE A SCOTSMAN

Nicole Angeleen

Edinburgh, Scotland-1758

When Delphine fished the body out of the water, she anticipated looking into the glassy eyes of a bloated corpse. She was only twenty-two, but the majority of her life had been spent at sea. In all her years, though she’d brought plenty of dead men from Davy Jones’ locker, this was her first live rescue.

Delphine’s vessel was in the North Sea, much to her chagrin. The nations with interest in the region, from the Scots to the Germans, the Danes to the Dutch, were constantly bickering, which meant merchant ships under rival flags were always at risk of being boarded, blockaded, or looted. She wondered why she agreed to this run, then she remembered the payoff. What did the Scots need with fine fabrics and exotic spices, anyway? They were perfectly happy with coarse wool scraping their rough skin and eating raw herring straight from the sea. Barbarians.

Unfortunately, Delphine was as good as her word, the agreement was made, so here they were, navigating into the Firth of Forth, piloting toward Edinburgh when she netted a live dead man.

The crew carried him into her quarters. The day was warm; midsummer was the only season when the North Sea was bearable. The water wasn’t cold enough to freeze a man in minutes, but enough time bobbing in the waves would turn anyone’s lips and fingertips dark blue. The bloke was breathing on his own but shivering violently.

What shall I do with him?

Warm him up. Her first mate Henri gave her a suggestive wink, and she tossed an old log book at him as he scampered out the door.

Delphine considered the stranger. Laid out on her bed, his heels hung off the end, so he was quite tall. His hair was as black as a moonless, starless night far from civilization. Despite the dark coloring, his skin was pale, holding the blue tinge like fine china. In the sweltering heat, she took pity on the man and started a fire in the hearth.

Delphine didn’t particularly care if the unexpected guest lived or died, but they were nearing port, and if she didn’t throw him overboard now, it would be too late once they entered the crowded shipping lane. Also, it seemed a waste to toss him since they went to all the trouble of pulling him from a watery grave in the first place. With a heaving sigh, Delphine set about undressing her ward. He was as heavy as an iron anchor, and in two minutes she admitted defeat. From her hip, she unsheathed a knife, one she dutifully sharpened each night, and sliced him out of his clothes. She tossed the ruined garments aside, along with the damp blanket beneath him.

Living on a trading vessel, Delphine was no stranger to the male form, but she could appreciate art when she saw it. He was exquisite, with cords of muscles coiling around his arms, thighs, and calves. His stomach was flat and taut, and beneath dark hair, his broad chest shuddered. She didn’t allow her eyes to stray. She didn’t mind stripping him, but not of his dignity.

Five minutes after removing the sopping garments, the blue was creeping inward from his extremities, and the shivering turned to tremors, wracking his entire body.

When she was a child and one of her father’s best sailors came down with hypothermia, body heat brought him back from the brink. The ship was slowing as it entered the Firth, soon they would reach Edinburgh, and Delphine would need to get to work. Doing immediately what she’d certainly have to do eventually, she pulled off her blouse and trousers, snagged a dry blanket, and hopped into bed beside him.

Delphine was a human fireball. She was born with a fever and carried the heat with her. Her natural ability to generate heat was helpful when sea winds whipped the deck, and now, when a man’s life depended on it, beneath the blanket, her bare skin pressed against his, she was a healing inferno.

~ * ~

Larkin was only half-conscious, but he was fully aware that he was blanketed by a naked woman. There were worse ways to wake up dead. The last thing he remembered was his final coin being taken and getting hit over the head. If this was the underworld, it wasn’t as terrifying as advertised.

There was a fire, a heavy blanket, and of course, the woman, but Larkin felt cold deep in his bones. He’d never experienced a chill like this before. It made his jaw ache. His eyes were mostly closed, but through his lashes, he surveyed his surroundings. The space was small but cozy. He smelled briny air, and the world around him listed, so he assumed he was on a boat, but that could’ve been vertigo from the head injury.

He couldn’t say how long he lied there, but slowly the feeling returned to his toes and fingertips. All he could see of the woman was the top of her head, brown hair streaked with gold. Her breasts pressed against his ribs, her thighs resting on his hips. Across his abdomen, her arms held him like they’d always been there, like she was born for exactly this purpose.

Quite the romantic thought. He was definitely brain-damaged.

He never wanted to get up. If he could live out the rest of his days in this bed, the faceless woman with the supple body and fiery skin driving away the cold, he would. A life well-spent, in his opinion. Regrettably, as warmth returned to his body, he had the sensation of thousands of needles piercing his feet and hands, then chunks of ice breaking off in his bloodstream and sluicing through his heart. He seized up and grimaced, groaned, squeezed his eyes shut, and pulled the blanket tighter around him, unsure if getting to his feet would help the pain or if he would collapse.

When he opened his eyes, the woman was staring up at him.

So you’re awake.

~ * ~

Delphine slithered out of bed, and the stranger did a double take, as if a bell were ringing inside his head. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on the surface of her skin, and it was a relief when the salty air met her. He was staring at her, then looked down, but his eyes opened, and she could feel him gawking behind the black locks that fell over his eyes.

You’re naked, lass.

She groaned. A Scotsman. Damn my luck.

It usually takes me at least a day to so thoroughly disappoint a woman, he remarked.

A new record.

You take issue with Scots?

Not Scots, in particular, just uncouth savages in general.

Says the woman who stands unabashedly naked in front of a stranger. Not that I’m complaining.

She rested her hands on her hips and leaned forward, close enough all he had to do was reach out and grab her if he wanted to pull her back into bed. His hands stayed beneath the blanket, which was more restraint than she expected. She wasn’t worried. There were weapons stashed throughout the room in preparation for a pirate attack. She’d have a blade to his throat before she hit the mattress.

Intending to inform him a French woman didn’t need to prove her innate sophistication, her tongue was stayed by a splotch of blood spreading on the pillowcase. In her lithe fingers, she grasped both sides of his temple, his damp hair velvety on her palms, and dipped his head toward her. His forehead rested against her clavicle, and when he breathed in her scent and exhaled, the air tickled and stimulated gooseflesh. She frowned and tried to ignore the sensation. Having spent her entire life almost exclusively in the company of men, she thought herself immune to primal attraction. Perhaps she was wrong.

There was a segment in his black hair where an ugly gash was seeping. Unless he hit the back of his head when he fell off a boat, which would’ve been preposterously clumsy, this wasn’t accidental. He was as large as a golem but woefully incompetent in combat. Not that she expected anything more from a Scot.

You have quite a cut. Head wounds can bleed something terrible. We should sew it shut.

When he tried to speak, his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth. Side effect of the salt water, Delphine knew it well. She uncorked her cheapest wine and handed him the bottle. After a swig, he said, I’m sure it’s not that serious.

Serious enough to knock you dumb and strand you in the water so long you would’ve eventually froze or drowned if we hadn’t come along. Plus, you’re bleeding all over my bedding.

He ran his hands over her sheets. She had an unhealthy attachment to those blankets. They were made of refined silk dyed the color of burnished copper. She paid a pretty penny for them in a bustling Indian port, and she wasn’t about to let a half-drowned Scotsman ruin her only indulgence. Not trusting him to stand, she laid an old quilt over the bed and tugged on her blouse.

She swore she heard him groan when she covered herself.

From her desk, she dug out a needle and thread. Without speaking, she sat down behind him and prepared to suture the wound. As she was about to dig in, his hand wrapped around her thin wrists, enveloping them completely. Hold a moment there. Do you have a kettle?

Yes. She was annoyed. He was bleeding all over her bed and wanted a cup of tea? Anglos and their infernal tea. They couldn’t drink wine like those in the civilized world.

"Could you put a pot on to boil? We need to dip the needle in the water, and once the needle and the water cool, we will wash the