With This Kilt I Thee Bed

By Landra Graf

They’re not your traditional highlanders.

Rafe Gordon, Laird of Nairn, is searching for release from the nightmare of his wife’s passing. When Elsie, his daughter’s new governess, brings with her the temptation of passion and a less-than-perfect-past, Rafe must decide if love truly can conquer all.

Innes Gordon is looking for a good time. When that good time turns out to be the childhood-friend-turned-kept-woman Catriona, he finds himself torn between claiming her ‘til death do us part’ or simply sharing her with his twin.

Hamish Gordon is seeking a woman all his own. While his family’s home is invaded with nuptial ceremonies, Hamish is sent to patrol his older brother’s hunting grounds in search of a thief. Discovering his prey yields the biggest surprise — and Athdara needs his help as much as he needs hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Landra Graf
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990928003

Landra Graf

Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.

Book preview

With This Kilt, I Thee Bed

Tales of the Brothers Gordon

Landra Graf

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

With This Kilt, I Thee Bed

Tales of the Brothers Gordon

Copyright © 2014 Landra Graf

Editor: Marisol Dunham

Cover Artist: G. S. Pendergast

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For more information: [e-mail]

To my family, for supporting my dreams, kisses and hugs, and all the things!

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Kellie for rescuing my spawn from spending boring days with mom in front of the computer. Humungous thanks to my editor, Mari, for her advice, guidance, and helping my boys be the best they could be. Thank you to Cate, Lori, and Lora for the beta-reads, the critiques, and the awesome feedback. Thank you to all my proud supporters at work, at home, and everywhere in between. Finally, thank you to my husband, who’s always got my back and encourages me every day to follow heart’s wish.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Rafe

Innes

Hamish

About Author

Other Titles By Landra Graf

Rafe

South of the Dulsie Wood

May, 1865

Soaked to the bone in her lilac muslin and shielding her face from the pouring rain, Elsie Macbeth pounded the lion-shaped knocker against her would-be employer’s door.

She should’ve known a storm could appear without notice this close to the coast. Within an hour, the sun had disappeared behind thunderclouds, and the temperature had plummeted as a strong wind swung inland. Her lighter dresses were all she’d packed in her carpet bag, which, now drenched, weighed like a bag of rocks. She longed for a warm fireplace and something to eat.

She had no notion of the time, and if the family already slept she’d be subject to the weather’s whims. She may have been one of the best governesses in North Scotland, but she lacked sense when it came to appropriate travel clothing.

A fresh line of rain battered against her cloak, wind whipping up her skirt’s edges and chilling her through and through. Abandoning the useless knocker, she banged against the door with her palm.

Her body pitched forward as the door swung open, barely a sound made compared to the storm raging around her. A short, older man stood in the doorway dressed in black and white. He eyeballed her with cold disdain.

Good sir, I’m Elsie Macbeth. The new governess, she said, standing straight once more and shivering on the step. The butler made no move to let her pass.

Aye, and pray why you be arriving past the dinner hour? His accent, a heavy brogue, sounded rough to her ears. He studied her person, no doubt taking in her bedraggled appearance and soaked dress.

The post carriage bringing me broke a wheel. It was a fine day, not too long ago, and I believed I’d make it on foot before dinner. The wind and rain slowed me down a bit, but I’d like to… She paused and motioned to the foyer beyond. Come in and at least speak to Lady Freya.

The butler stepped aside, one white, bushy eyebrow raised as she passed. If she’d been warmer, she’d have fixed him with an equally narrowed stare. Shutting the door, he turned and began issuing instructions. I’d ask that you wait here in the foyer until I locate Lady Freya. She may have gone to bed, but without proper identification, I’m afraid this is as far as you may come.

I have my letter of hire, sir. She reached into her bag and produced the ink-bled, soggy parchment.

It does no good to me if’n I can’t read it. His stern tone made her pull back. Good God, had the storm washed away her wits?

I understand, sir, she replied with a grimace. What might your name be?

Jacobs. I’ll return shortly. With that, Jacobs disappeared around the corner, leaving no chance for her to make further amends with the butler.

The candelabra above, lit with twenty candles or more, cast a steady light throughout the room. Elsie set her soaked bag on the ground. A few feet away, a massive gilded mirror with crown molding around the edges was plastered against the wall. On either side, tapestries displayed the family’s crest, and she stepped forward to look at her reflection.

Her hair was a fright. Dark tendrils had come loose from her bun, though the rest of her seemed in order, except her extremely rosy cheeks courtesy of the wind. When Lady Freya appeared, she’d keep the cloak closed to hide the dress, but the hair wouldn’t do. Elsie quickly unbound her bun, the pins secure in her hand. Her long locks spiraled down around her neck as she went about smoothing the loose strands. Before she could begin winding the black tresses up again, a whistle rent the air.

Heaven, she’s a beauty. Isn’t she, Hamish? said a male voice behind her.

Aye, that she is, Innes.

Elsie spun around, facing her two newest companions. These weren’t boys, but men. Both in tartan kilts matching the family colors and white shirts. Their eyes were glued to her bosom. With lascivious smiles and heads of long blonde hair, they were twin gorgeous devils with evil intent.

We didn’t think you’d make it out here in this weather, said Innes.

Well, I did, she stood ramrod straight and adopted her stern, matronly tone; the best way to deal with men in her experience. I’m very punctual. It’s one of the few things a woman controls in her life.

Hamish, I’ll think he’ll like this one. She’s feisty and proper. Innes stepped to her left