Some Like it Scottish Read Online Free PDF Page A

months.
    The noise downstairs thundered on. She climbed out of bed, dug an eye mask out of her carry-on bag, and then wrapped the pillow around her ears. After shesnuggled under the quilt and right before she drifted off to sleep, she had the strangest thought: She couldn’t have a fling with Ramsay—this bed wasn’t big enough for the both of them.
    *   *   *
    Kit heard knocking and her name. But everything was black. She heard the door open.
    â€œWake up, Your Majesty,” a very male voice said. Then a prolonged, “Ummm.”
    She pulled the mask from her eyes. Ramsay stood in the doorway, holding a tray. But his eyes weren’t on her face. He was focusing on her chest.
    â€œWhat?” She glanced down. “Ohmigod.” She snatched the edge of the sheet and yanked it over herself. Her nightgown had shifted to the side and one breast was nearly exposed.
    â€œWhat are you doing in my room?” Her pitch sounded close to a wail.
    The rogue leaned in the doorway and shrugged, grinning at her embarrassment. “It’s ten. In my defense, I did knock and call out first. Then I tried to call you. Did you shut your phone off? It went straight to voice mail.”
    â€œCrap. My battery. I should’ve plugged in the phone last night.”
    He smiled at her expletive and walked toward her with the tray. “Breakfast?”
    She pulled the sheet up farther. “Out.”
    He set the tray on the nightstand.
    â€œWhat is that smell?” She glared at the offending tray.
    â€œDig in. It’s pickled herring and haggis. A right proper Scottish breakfast.” He took one of the mugs from her tray and sipped.
    Her stomach came close to revolting. “Can you takethe tray out of here? And can you leave, too?” She grabbed the other mug with her free hand.
    Ramsay leaned back against the wall again, as if he was just settling in. “I looked at your detailed itinerary. There’s one appointment you don’t have on there.”
    She took a drink of tea, then set the mug back down. The food looked inedible. “The plans for today have changed anyway.”
    â€œAye, they have.”
    What was he talking about? He didn’t know about Art and the rearranged schedule.
    Ramsay smirked at her. “The quilting ladies are gathered at Quilting Central. They want to meet you right away.”
    â€œI’d like to, but there’s no time. We have more pressing matters. This morning is our only chance to catch Art MacKay before he leaves.”
    Ramsay didn’t look happy to
catch
anyone. “Lass, have you not heard the storm raging outside?”
    No, she hadn’t. She was barely awake.
She’d hardly gotten any sleep
. She swung toward the window, still clutching the sheet to her breasts. Rain and wind battered the window. “So?”
    â€œIt’s not safe to take the dinghy to the SUV.”
    â€œOh.” She’d been reduced to monosyllables.
    â€œNow, get dressed.” He eyed her like he expected her to climb from the bed and dress while he watched. “Ye don’t want to get on the wrong side of the quilters.” He gave her a devilish grin like he definitely knew something that she didn’t. He remained there.
    â€œI’m not getting out of this bed until you vacate the premises.” She clutched the sheet like a lifeline.
    â€œOh. Aye. Yes.” He turned for the door, but then spunback around like he remembered something. He stopped and scanned down the length of her sheet. By the smile on his face he looked as if he was imagining all sorts of wicked things.
    â€œWhat is it, Ramsay?” she said with exaggerated patience.
    He lazily brought his gaze back up to her face. “That sheet won’t do. Ye’ll give the
wrong impression
. Make sure ye’re dressed appropriately. Something more professional than what you have on now.”
    That’s when it registered what
he
was