#4 Scottish Soil

Eilidh POV

LAX VIP Lounge

Two hours and hellacious traffic later, we were tucked into buttery smooth leather seats in the VIP lounge at LAX, a bottle of champagne between us. The world outside was chaos, cameras, security lines, and screaming kids, but in here, it was quiet luxury. Cat was scrolling through her phone, smirking. “You’re still trending, babe. Look... #ThatScottishBitch is up to number three.”

I leaned back, sipping my champagne. “Has a nice ring tae it, doesn’t it?” That’s when I felt it, the prickle of eyes on me. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention immediately. I turned my head just enough to spy them. Two very HOT men at the far end of the lounge. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Delicious facial hair. Matching smirks that looked carved from sin. Identical. Twins. The pair of them were built like tree trunks.

One caught my gaze and lifted his glass in a lazy toast. I looked away first. Always leave them guessing. Cat noticed immediately. “Who are they?”

“No idea,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken. “But they’re starin’.” She grinned and waggled her brows. “Good. Let them stare.”

When our flight was called, we gathered our bags. As we joined the boarding line, one of the twins ended up directly behind me. The warmth of his presence was impossible to ignore.

“After ye, lass,” he murmured, his voice low and rich with a Scottish accent that curled down my spine. I didn’t look back. Just kept walking, my heels clicking, pretending my heart wasn’t racing.

Once we were settled into our first class seats, I glanced toward the front, but the twins were gone, already vanished into the crowd. Cat leaned in. “We’re definitely gonna see them again.”

I smirked, looking out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. “Maybe. But if we do, love… it’ll be on my terms.”

16 hours and a layover in the UK later…..

The second the plane’s wheels touched Scottish soil, something in my chest loosened. The cool, damp air that seeped through the jet bridge was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of rain, salt, and wild heather. Our hour long layover had been annoying as all hell and I was tired.

Cat was pressed to the window, her green eyes wide. “God, this is so much better than the L.A. smog. It’s like walking into a fairytale.”

“Wait till ye see my family’s estate,” I said, wheeling my carry on toward the VIP arrivals exit. “It’s the kind of place people write fairytales about.”

Our driver, an older man in a black coat, stood at the gate with Miss MacLeod written in elegant gold lettering. The moment his gaze landed on me, his brows shot up. Word of my return had clearly traveled fast. The Bentley waiting outside gleamed despite the drizzle. Inside, the leather was soft as butter, and a crystal cooler of champagne sat between us. Cat glanced around, jaw slack. “This is insane.”

“Normal tae me,” I teased, popping the cork and pouring her a glass. “Drink up, love. We’ve an hour’s drive tae the Highlands.”

By the time the car passed through the massive wrought iron gates of the MacLeod estate, Cat looked like she’d fallen headfirst into a period drama. The manor loomed through the mist, turrets piercing the low clouds, its stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and rain. Beyond it, sprawling gardens and ancient oaks lined the drive.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Cat breathed. “You grew up in a castle.”

“Aye,” I said with a small smile. “And you’ve not even seen the ballroom yet.”

The front doors opened before the car even stopped. My mother swept out first, her tartan wrap clasped at the shoulder with a silver brooch, her auburn hair in a perfect chignon. My father followed, tall and broad, with that commanding presence he’d always carried. He'd used that presence to keep me under his thumb long enough. My skin prickled being back here and I was beginning to think maybe it was my best plan.

“Eilidh, mo chridhe!” my mother called, arms open wide. “Come here tae yer mam.”

I inwardly rolled my eyes at her fake shit but didn’t hesitate, stepping into her arms, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and woodsmoke. My father clasped my shoulders, studying my face with those sharp, cruel grey eyes before pulling me into a hug. “Lass, it’s been far too long. Ye’ve not changed a bit.”

I didn't snort but I wanted to. They were putting on a show for Cat, so whatever. Cat stepped forward, all smiles.

“And who’s this bonnie lass?” my mother asked, her brogue thick with fake warmth.

“Catriona Devins” I said. “My best friend. We’ve been keepin’ each other sane fer 8 years.”

“Well, ye’re both welcome here,” my father said. “There’s rooms ready, and dinner’s near on the table. But first...” he gave me a sly grin.... “there’s a charity gala in Inverness tonight. You should come. Let the town see the MacLeod lass is home.”

“Tonight?” I arched a brow in surprise. Of course they would immediately parade me about in front of Scottish wealth and royalty.

“Aye, tonight,” my mother confirmed, her eyes glinting. “I’ve already sent fer the dressmaker. Ye’ll look every inch the queen ye are.”

That Evening – The Gala

The Inverness ballroom was a glittering sea of candlelight and crystal. My gown was deep emerald silk that clung in all the right places, caught every flicker of light. My auburn hair was swept into loose waves, my lipstick the perfect deep red.

Cat, stunning in midnight blue, was already sipping champagne and chatting up half the room. I was scanning the crowd in boredom, sipping my whiskey when I saw them. The ridiculously hot twins from the airport.

They weren’t dressed like the rest, no tuxedos, just perfectly tailored black suits, open collars, and an air of easy defiance. They were speaking with an older man I recognized from my parents’ circle, but one of them, the one from the airport, caught my gaze and smirked like we had a secret.

Cat followed my line of sight, nearly choking on her drink. “Oh my God. It’s them.”

“Aye,” I murmured, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Seems fate’s nae done with me yet.”