What Happens in the Castle

By Kelsey McKnight

He’s a Scotsman through and through with the kilt and loch-side manor to prove it

Savannah Adelson spent years sacrificing her midwife career for what she thought was love. Now that she’s kicked her cheating ex to the curb, she’s transforming her long-forgotten dream into a thriving business. Amid her new patients, she manages to travel to Scotland to be a bridesmaid in her college friend’s wedding only to meet the cousin of the groom, a tall shot of whisky in a tartan glass.

Rhys Mackinnon has grown restless and is eager to find his next role in life, whatever that may be. When he meets Savannah, he’s all too happy to make that role her personal tour guide. He ends up playing boyfriend too after her ex shows up unannounced.

When the fictional relationship begins to feel real, Savannah’s torn between the fire she feels for Rhys and the passion she has for her career. No matter what she decides, someone will end up hurt, because what happens in the castle doesn’t always stay there.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Jan 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781951190866

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Author

Acknowledgements

A lot of hard work, rewrites, research, and love went into this series and I’m so glad my idea of an American girl finding love in the Highlands turned into a collection of books with so much heart and humor. While this is the last part of my hot Scot series, at least for now, I hope you all enjoyed the trip and I thank you for taking it with me.

There are so many people I’d like to thank:

Sarah Fischer, my writing, blogging, editing, and real-life best friend who was always there to listen to my plot ideas and help me through writer’s block. I could have never picked a better friend to be by my side through publishing and through life.

My parents for always boasting about their smut author daughter and having all their friends read their books. Sorry this is what I used my degree for!

Sinclair Sawhney, my favorite editor, for putting up with my constant emails and supporting me through some major rewrites while never rushing me off the phone.

The Tule team for reading all my pitches, taking a chance on my books, and supplying me with the best covers and editing I could have ever wanted. You’ve been a dream to work with and I look forward to many more books.

Jacqulyn King for embodying what a true sorority sister is and being one of my greatest supporters, even from afar.

And lastly, to all my lovely readers who came for the kilts and stayed for the romance. May your whisky be strong but your Highlanders stronger.

Sláinte

Chapter One

Once I stepped into the gangway connecting the plane to the terminal, I inhaled deeply. The canned air I was forced to breathe during the trip didn’t really agree with me too much. But I guessed the seven-hour flight from New York City to London followed by the two-hour layover, in which I could see none of the city, and then the two-hour flight to Aberdeen didn’t help much. Recycled air, bad food, and a drunk lady who sobbed about her cancelled spa reservation for most of the flight made for a terrible start to my first ever international vacation.

Luckily, the next leg promised to be much more interesting. Since I didn’t want to drive all the way from Aberdeen to Nairn, I decided to see the Scottish countryside in style, by way of a fancy first class train ticket with my name on it. Well, sort of my name since it read Savanna Abelson instead of Savannah Adelson.

I lugged my massive suitcase up the two steps to the train and tried to sling my purse higher on my shoulder without disrupting my heavy midwife bag on my wrist. It was a delicate operation made harder by the gaggle of teens waiting for me to board. They made their annoyance at my struggle known, which almost made me want to stop moving all together and stand in the doorway. But a chance to relax in the plush, velvet seat I was promised and order something strong to drink was too tempting.

The train itself was packed with people. I followed the line of passengers toward the front cabins, wondering at what point I would feel less like a steerage passenger on the Titanic and more like the dowager countess in Downton Abbey going on a magical holiday in the Scottish Highlands.

I dragged myself and my bags through the cars as the train whistled and a disembodied voice said we were set to leave the station. I kept walking until I got to the section of the train made up of fancy compartments that reminded me of the Harry Potter series, where the newly-minted wizard searched for a seat on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But I didn’t have magic powers, because if I did, I wouldn’t have been too late to find my seat before the train whistled again.

As I got to the second to last compartment in the car, the one with my number over it in shiny gold, I peeked inside the long window in the door to see a lone man with golden-blond hair sitting there with a suit jacket draped over the seat beside him. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. There was something about that slightly dressed-down appearance that made me feel like some Victorian-era pervert, drooling over a flash of forearm.

He was reading a book and I squinted to see the cover through the glass when the train decided to move and I was pitched over to land hard on the floor on my ass.

The door snapped open and the man stood there, impossibly tall and looking remarkably familiar, although I couldn’t put my finger on where I had seen him before. Are ye alright, miss? His deep voice rolled over the Rs to give me a taste of a wonderful Scottish accent.

What? Oh, yeah, I was just looking for my compartment, but here it is… lucky number two. I cringed inwardly. I sounded like an idiot, but I was embarrassed and blabbering.

Here, I suppose we should get ye sorted before we really pick up speed.

He held out his hand and I took it, enjoying the firm warmth beneath my fingers. As soon as I was upright and began straightening my sweater, he scooped up my midwife bag for me and waved an arm toward the door.

Good as new. Please, have a seat and I’ll get your suitcase.

Thank you.

I slipped past him, put the bag on the carved wood rack above my head, and sat down. The feeling of living the Scottish high life was finally there among the dark wood and green hills rolling past. The seats were textured red velvet and matched the small curtains framing the windows. It was much better than the only train I had ever been on in America, the New York City Subway, which constantly smelled like pee and bad decisions.

The man came in and deftly hoisted my luggage above my head to store it neatly out of the way then sat across from me. I’m Rhys.

Savannah. Thanks for helping me. My last flight was delayed, so I was a little late getting here.

So, what brings you to the Highlands, if I might ask?

I wanted to tell him I was in Scotland a week ahead of schedule to escape my cheating ex who I was basically, completely over, but still hated with the passion of a thousand suns, but thought better of it. Jet lag was giving me funny ideas. No one wanted to be trapped in a train compartment with someone who was travel weary, sick of love—not to be confused with lovesick—and had only just began toying with the idea of jumping back into the dating pool but had completely forgotten how to swim.

I’m here to visit some friends for a few weeks, I answered simply.

Whereabouts?

I couldn’t really remember where exactly my friend Rose said her fiancé Lachlan’s castle was, only that it was near Nairn’s train station. But it wasn’t like I needed to worry about making sure a complete stranger knew exactly where I was going to be. They live near Nairn. Is that where you’re heading?

No, I’m goin’ on to Inverness.

I set my purse on the seat beside me and smiled. His voice was hypnotic in this friendly, rugged way that made me want to keep him talking. Really? I’ve read about Inverness in the guidebooks, but I’d love to hear what a local thinks.

What a loaded question, he said, raking a hand through his hair. Depends on what you’re interested in. Do ye care overmuch for history or would ye rather know the best restaurants?

Why not both?

Well, it depends, are ye meetin’ a boyfriend here maybe?

The tone of his voice was decidedly curious and I smiled. Nope, just me meeting some friends. I’m not seeing anyone.

A knock at the door stopped Rhys from responding and an old man pushing a tea cart poked his head in and asked, Anything from the trolley?

"Oh, my God, it is just like Harry Potter," I whispered, picking up my purse and digging through it for my wallet.

Rhys held up a hand. My treat. A wee welcome gift to the Highlands. What’ll it be?

It had been years since a good-looking guy had bought me a drink. Even my ex always had us split the bill when we met up for cocktails and we were together six years. You’re the Scot, surprise me.

Two blue blazers, if you please, he ordered. I watched as he reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a few bills. A dash more sugar in both, if you can.

I thanked the man as he handed me a glass cup filled with warm amber liquid and a sprig of lemon peel. I was glad for the temperature, even if I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about hot alcohol. The day had been nice enough, for the short spurt I had actually been outside for, but being tired made me cold and even holding the glass seemed to revive me a bit.

When the man had left and Rhys had his glass in his hand, he lifted it toward me. "Sláinte!"

Slawn-cha? I mimicked, my tongue rolling over the word.

"It’s a cheer that means health."

I’ll cheers to that, since all this traveling will be the death of me. I gingerly took a sip, closing my eyes as the warmth flooded through me. It was sweet and tangy. "Mmm… this is delicious."

Isn’t it? It’s some of the finest whisky in Scotland.

Expert, are you?

His face grew serious, but his full lips were twitching with the hint of amusement. Then he held his glass up to the sunlight and swirled it gently. This is a 2005 brew, distilled twice, and aged for… He took a sip and paused a moment before saying, Ten years in a refurbished bourbon cask. It’s what adds the extra spice at the end.

I raised my brows, unsure if I should believe him. Okay, so I don’t know enough about whisky to know if you’re bullshitting me, so you’re going to have to help me out if you’re joking.

It is true, so I’m no’ bullshittin’ ye. But don’t be too impressed. I only know because I used to work for this company in college.

You cheater.

We sipped our drinks, each regarding one another over the rims of our glasses. I liked Rhys from the half hour I knew him. He was not only my seat savior, but not hard on the eyes either. Speaking of his, they were gorgeous in the way only men’s seem to unfairly be, a bright green with thick, black lashes. They were kind but held a hint of mischief I wanted to delve further into, if only the ride was a little longer.

There’s no better way to travel than in a train car with good company, he said, leaning back a bit.

And better drinks.

He placed a hand over his heart. Savannah, are ye sayin’ I rank lower in your opinion than finely aged Scottish whisky in likability?

Maybe, I said, taking a dainty sip. Give me something else to like and perhaps I’ll change my mind.

I couldn’t believe I said that. I had been out of the dating game for a long time and hadn’t flirted in ages. With that little quip, it was like I was getting back in the proverbial saddle and getting back in the game. It seemed a little quick, since I had just broken up with my ex a little more than a month before, but it was refreshing to share a bit of banter with a stranger I’d never see again.

Well, if I have to sell myself… do ye like kids?

I’m a midwife so it comes with the territory.

A real-life midwife? Well, then, I’ll have ye know I’ve just come from my goddaughter’s sixth birthday celebration. It was last night and the wee lassie kens how to throw quite a craic. She says I’m her favorite, which is a given since children adore me.

And that’s your main selling point, that kids love you?

He shrugged and drained his glass. I have more.

I have the time, I replied in the same, casual tone. Yep. Right back in the saddle.

I’m an organ donor. I own my own home. I can cook. I love dogs and my favorite color is blue.

I’m also an organ donor. I only rent because I only want to dump my savings into a home or a nice-end townhouse when I settle down. I can only cook things with less than four ingredients. I also love dogs and my favorite color is green.

Ye can’t cook? he asked.

Oh, because I’m a woman, I should be able to cook?

That’s no’ what I meant. It’s the modern world, I thought everyone could cook enough to make sure they did no’ starve.

I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Fair enough. So, did I pass muster?

I took another sip and regarded him over my glass. I could tell by the way he was looking at me, mouth half-cocked with the whisper of a grin and his eyes boring into me; he liked the little game as much as I did. Strangers were really the best to test out one’s skills on when they were working on dusting the rust off the cogs.

I’ll need your resume with references attached.

He laughed shortly. That can be arranged.

I glanced over to his book again, the one I had been trying to read the title of, which now lay upon the seat beside him. Anything good?

No, no’ really. He held it up and it read Spanish for Beginners. I’m rubbish at Spanish, but I really want to know as many as I can.

How many do you speak?

English, Gaelic, French, Dutch, German, and a wee bit o’ Russian.

Hot, polite, funny, good with kids, and apparently intelligent. It made my high school level French seem pretty terrible in comparison. I guess you should slip that into your resume.

"Mais bien sûr, Mademoiselle, he replied in picture perfect French. But of course."

Wow. I took another long swallow, my cheeks flushing. This guy was straight out of a paperback romance novel.

As the ride wore on, Rhys listed the top places to visit while I was around, including a few castle, a walking trail, and more than one church he promised were worth the visit. I hung on his every word, drinking in the rolling Scots lilt of his voice. It washed away the past day of checked luggage, no leg room, and tiny airport bathrooms.

Arriving in Nairn in five minutes, an announcement proclaimed. Nairn in five minutes.

I suppose we’re no’ meant to be more than two passing ships in the night, doomed to never meet again, Rhys crooned dramatically.

I giggled. Love the accent, but that’s a little gloomy.

Love the accent do ye? I’ve always been told it would work wonders with an American lass.

Just keep it in mind for the next you meet.

The train began to slow and Rhys stood, reaching over my head to take down my suitcase. I could smell his cologne, a clean, citrus scent that reminded me of summer, my favorite season. For a brief second, I thought about throwing caution to the wind and staying on the train. Inverness and Nairn were basically neighbors… well, according to my map anyway. But Rose was waiting for me at the station and I didn’t want to worry her, especially since my iPhone had died somewhere near Aberdeen.

I rose from my seat and shouldered my purse, putting my empty glass on the sideboard. Thanks for keeping me company and helping me with my suitcase and for getting me a drink and—

He laughed. You’re welcome. Do ye need help getting off the train?

No, thank you. I pulled up the handle on my luggage and bit my lip, wishing I could prolong the moment. It was great meeting you, Rhys.

And you, Savannah. Have a safe journey.

I gave him a final smile and turned away, trying to walk with more assurance and grace than I had entered with, just in case he was watching. I thought it was a shame I had met him in such a way where I couldn’t actually get to know him. But at least, thanks to him, I knew I could still flirt without making a complete fool of myself.

The thought followed me out to the platform and my gaze caught his through the train window. I figured I’d have to chalk our meeting up to one of those small portions of time I could think about in my old age and file in the what-could-have-been drawer in my mind. Rhys had been charming, handsome, funny, had an accent that could curl toes, and knew how to order a drink.

To make myself feel better about missing out on something potentially perfect, I reminded myself I couldn’t let my head get turned by a pretty face and a bit of French. I was a career woman with a lot of important responsibility, a bridesmaid in Scotland to see my girl down the aisle, and I was in charge of so much. I needed to focus on the big picture and act like the responsible adult that I was.

But as I stood there, waving Rhys off, I remembered one teensy, tiny, little thing. My midwife bag was still on the train.

Chapter Two

Rose was all smiles when I met her outside the train station. She had been waiting a bit, as I had to find the customer service desk and fill out a lost luggage form. I couldn’t believe I had been so wrapped up in a daydream I had forgotten the tools of my trade on a train. I was never so careless or irresponsible. And the worst part was by the time the customer service agent got in touch with someone in Inverness, the train had left and the bag was gone.

You made it! Rose held her arms outstretched for a hug, a white Range Rover idling beside her. She was dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, a far cry from the smart khaki and sweater combo I would have expected from a future noble.

I stepped into her embrace, trying to keep a smile on my face. I was devastated to lose my bag, especially since I was hoping to use the tools within it to help deliver our friend Katie’s baby, but I didn’t want to be a downer.

How’s the bride? I asked as I pulled away.

So excited you’re here. She took my suitcase from me and popped the trunk open. How was the trip?

It was good. Is there a charger in your car? I really need one.

Sure thing. Everything okay?

I stored my suitcase and shook my head. I left my midwife bag on the train.

Her mouth formed a perfect O. Shoot, I’m sorry, Savannah. Where’s the train’s next stop? I’m sure we can—

They already called and it’s not on the train.

Wow, that was fast. Well, I’m still sorry.

I shrugged, trying to look unbothered, although I wanted to throw myself on the tracks. No worries. Now, take me to your castle.

I know you’ll love it. You can explore as much as you want today and tomorrow, maybe we’ll come back into Nairn for some shopping.

As Rose pulled away from the station, she immediately dove into a miniature history lesson of Nairn. I tried to keep up as she told me about Nazi spies, ancient battles, and the High Street. But I stared at my phone as it came to life. I didn’t know what I was hoping for, besides my bag shooting me a text telling me its geographical location. It was like I was being punished for letting loose and having a little bit of fun with a guy for the first time in forever.

When I popped out of my pity party, Rose pointed to something in the near distance on the empty stretch of road. Here it is! Calder Castle.

The car turned off the main road and a tall, iron gate greeted us. It swung open at once and we crawled down the impossibly smooth driveway. It was lined with evenly spaced trees overflowing with pale pink flowers. Their petals cascaded down as we drove like it was paving the way for the future bride.

Once the pink, blooming trees cleared, Calder Castle itself came into perfect view. Rose and Katie, my best friends since college, had sent me pictures of course, but nothing matched the real thing. It was massive with a few towers and more windows than I could count. It was something that belonged more on a postcard.

I could hardly believe it would be where I was staying for nearly two whole months for Rose’s wedding and the birth of Katie’s baby, a little girl who was due in the next few weeks. I had hoped to help deliver her, or at least add some professional support, but with my bag officially gone, I was relegated to the friend support role instead, something I could do just as well.

Rose stopped the car at the base of the wide, stone stairs. The large, double doors opened and an older man hopped down the steps. He opened the car door for me and helped me out.

Good evenin’ Miss Adelson, he said. I’m Mattie, the head caretaker. Is your luggage in the boot?

Good to meet you, Mattie. And it is, but I can get it.

To be sure, to be sure. But let me, aye?

Okay, thank you.

Rose hooked her arm through mine and led me inside. I expected the interior of the castle to be chilled and damp, but to my surprise, it was dry and inviting. The entryway was surrounded by stone and tapestries leading up a large staircase. Near the vaulted ceiling was a wooden crest with a carved deer head at the center. I stepped up to one of the suits of armor. I had seen them in museums and on TV in period pieces, but never in real life and never any that were probably worn.

My fingers itched with the desire to reach out and touch it, but I also feared an alarm would go off if I did, like when I poked a fifteenth century chair at a museum during a high school field trip. The ringing that followed and the elderly security guard giving me a stern talking to was enough to keep my hands in my sweatshirt pocket for the rest of the tour and turn me away from a life of crime.

Mattie came inside, carrying my bag, and took the stairs two at a time.

Let me show you your room and you can relax a bit before dinner, Rose said. It won’t be served until seven, but you can shower or nap or whatever else you want.

I know I should be responsible and stay up to make sure my internal click doesn’t get all weird, but I’m exhausted.

Didn’t sleep on the plane? she asked as we climbed the stone staircase.

No, I was too nervous.

You should have let me spring for first class. We just redid the northern wing and I had the credit card miles to bump you up.

It was already enough that you changed my flight for me at the last minute and are letting me stay an extra week.

She scoffed and turned me down the first hallway. Oh, please. You let me crash on your couch for six weeks while I did my law internship after college. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have the room.

"I guess that’s true, Lady Rose," I said with a smile.

She pinked and shook her head. "Calling me Lady Rose sounds so ridiculous."

Then she opened the door at the end of the corridor. The walls within were painted a pale blue and the bedding was a rich cream I wanted to fall into. It looked like one of the bedrooms I had seen on a TV special about the renovations done at Winsor Castle. I would bet the gilded framed mirror that hung opposite the bed was probably older than America.

Rose settled herself on the bed, leaning against one of the dark wood posts. What do you think?

Screw The Ritz, this is amazing. I stepped around my suitcase and peeked into the bathroom. It was wall to ceiling marble. I might have to move in.

Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Bill will really like it too, I think, she added.

My blood froze and I closed the bathroom door. Bill was the cheating ex, the man I thought I would eventually marry but ended up catching mid-booty call with his assistant Brenda. Rose, Katie, Bill, and I had all gone to college together and he was actually Rose’s friend first. When we started dating, it didn’t fracture the group. In fact, he and I were lauded as the college romance success story, the prime example of how love worked.

When I caught him with his