Wild Scottish Rose: A fun opposites attract magical romance (The Enchanted Highlands Book 4) by Tricia O'Malley

Author:Tricia O'Malley [O'Malley, Tricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lovewrite Publishing
Published: 2024-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Shona

Surprisingly, I did manage to sleep even though my mind wanted to replay the sexiest kiss I’d ever had in my life. If I could pinpoint one thing about what had made the kiss so soul searing, it was the very essence of Owen. Yes, I understand that sounds weird. But there was something about Owen as a whole—his charisma, his warmth, his smarts—that lit me up inside. When he’d pulled back the curtain to reveal his vulnerabilities, well, that had just endeared him more to me. From the outside, he was like a perfect slice of cake, and telling me about his issues with his family was like turning the cake around and seeing someone had stuck their finger in the icing. It soothed me, understanding that he was just as real and human as the rest of us, and because of that, I’d felt much more connected to him.

And yet I hadn’t given him the same back, had I?

It burned in my gut, having this newfound knowledge of my magick, and not being able to share it with someone that I was developing feelings for. I couldn’t blame Agnes for wanting to protect Loren Brae, and me, from an outsider. It still didn’t make me feel great.

That being said, I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my magick, except for those already in the know, so it wasn’t like I was just keeping it from Owen. It was hard, this whole living in your truth thing. Particularly when you discover your truth is far outside what most people can accept as normal.

“Normal is boring,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped inside the greenhouse to find Gnorman holding the felted hedgehog toy over his head. I opened my mouth to yell at him.

“Go long!” Gnorman shouted and Eugene raced to the other side of the greenhouse, which, in my opinion, was overly optimistic for Gnorman’s throwing capabilities. This wasn’t me being size-ist, by the way. This was me being sexist about men and how they liked to think they were the next great rugby player who could launch a ball a gazillion yards.

Gnorman threw the toy, and much like I’d expected, it flew a few feet in front of him, not reaching the other side of the greenhouse by any stretch of the imagination. Eugene, undeterred, scuttled back across the greenhouse and snatched it up, depositing it back in front of Gnorman like a puppy playing fetch.

“Quite the throw there, G.”

“The toy is not aerodynamic,” Gnorman grumbled, glaring up at me. “You can hardly expect me to throw something as awkwardly shaped as this.”

Eugene tottered over to me and put his little paws on my boot. Bending over, I scooped him up and scratched his belly until he was writhing in joy.

“How’s the army today, G?”

“Are you hard of hearing, lass? I’ve told you my name is Gnorman.”

“Is there or is there not a G in the spelling?”

“It’s silent.” Gnorman slammed his boot on the ground, his kilt flapping with the motion, and I bit back a smile.

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