Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Alexa Milne 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Pride Publishing.
Late July—The Highlands of Scotland
“You promised you’d tone it down.”
“What?” Drew exclaimed. “This is toned down.” He examined his skinny jeans and long T-shirt. All right, letting it hang off one shoulder might be considered provocative.
“I wouldn’t normally ask…”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. At least I’m not wearing jeggings and this top is plain white—not a rainbow or motto in sight. I’m even wearing riding boots.”
“The shiniest ones I’ve ever seen. They’re brand new, aren’t they? You do realize you’re going to a real ranch with cows and horses. You might get a little dirty.”
Drew fixed his sister with a Paddington stare that men throughout London had retreated from. It had no effect whatsoever. “May I remind you, I was brought up in the same place as you? Just because I live in Civilization rather than this godforsaken part of the universe doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what an animal looks and smells like, or what they produce in seemingly endless quantities. I simply choose not to spend time with my hand up their arses.”
Jenna’s mouth twitched. “No, little brother, I’m sure you’re used to dealing with arses a lot smaller.”
Drew grinned and nudged her. Finally, Jenna gave in and a hint of a smile reached her mouth. He stretched out his arms, turning them at the wrist. “Not usually with my whole hand. Though, with these slim long fingers, I’ve been asked.”
She laughed out loud this time. “Well, that conversation deteriorated quickly. I’m sorry. You know I don’t usually care.”
“I do, and that’s why I’m not taking offense.”
The car bumped along the dusty track. “Won’t be long now we’re off the main road. Remember, best behavior, please. For me. Duncan’s doing us both a favor.”
Drew checked himself in the mirror. Should he lose the glasses? He’d never got on with contact lenses and these provided him with a certain urban chic. “You make him sound like an ancient homophobic prick. I know he’s Craig’s best friend, but why on earth did you choose here for me to stay?”
“It’s convenient. And Duncan’s just old-fashioned. He isn’t homophobic. As a matter of fact…”
Drew sat up in his seat. “What?” She turned away too quickly and Drew’s senses tingled.
“Nothing—just he isn’t homophobic. I like him. Anyway, here we are.”
Drew reached to the back seat, pulled on a blue jacket then checked the view as they drove under the sign for McLeish’s Highland Experience into a huge gravel-strewn courtyard. To the right stood a large stone house, behind which several log cabins lay dotted along the riverside. To the left were several outbuildings, stables, paddocks and a view down the glen so glorious it took his breath away. Whenever he returned to this part of the world, Drew was reminded of its simple beauty, with its glens, mountains and lochs. Jenna parked the Land Rover in a space at the front of the house.
“Now, for the last time, please be nice. Duncan’s an old-school gentleman, always polite, using sir and ma’am. The visitors love it, but he doesn’t put it on just for them. It’s who he is. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything rude about anyone, even when he’s sorely tried. He doesn’t cuss or swear, either.”
Drew couldn’t wait to meet this paragon of virtue. He didn’t believe people like that really existed outside American films from the fifties.
The door to the house flew open and an Adonis strode out, accompanied by a large dog that walked obediently to heel. Whoever Drew had expected, it wasn’t someone who’d seemingly stepped out of…The Magnificent Seven…he thought, searching his memory for a Western film reference.
Duncan stood tall, dark and impossibly handsome—Jenna hadn’t warned him about that—dressed in a gray and white plaid shirt tucked into jeans held up by a belt with a buckle which looked suspiciously like a Highland Cow. The outfit was finished off with real cowboy boots and he carried a Stetson in his huge and calloused hand.
“Fuck me.” The words escaped Drew’s mouth before he could stop them. He’d always had a soft spot for cowboys and he had no doubt he could give this one the ride of his life.
“Drew, put your tongue in. You’re staring.”
He adjusted his jeans, wishing for the first time he’d worn something with more room, then wafted his hand in front of his face like some Southern lady sitting on a porch in New Orleans.
“But you didn’t warn me. From what you said, I thought this Duncan would be some old guy, not…him. Why haven’t I had an introduction before? I mean, come on, sis, look at him. He’s beefcake on legs, and those thighs. Oh, my, a girl could swoon and fall into his arms.”
“No. Absolutely no swooning. Don’t even think about it. He’s being kind letting you stay. Maybe you should have visited me more often, rather than insist you were too busy and make me come to London.”
Drew fixed his expression into what he hoped was something neutral. Man, I could have a million fantasies based on that body and face. He attempted not to scan the gorgeous frame again. He willed his cock to behave, glad his T-shirt had a diagonal hem that covered his groin. Jenna had already exited the car.
Drew checked his face in the mirror once again. He’d arrived au naturel, but he still looked good. His cheekbones didn’t need blusher and his blue eyes were striking enough not to need liner or shadow, unless he felt so inclined. He nudged his black-framed glasses up his nose, pushed a hand through his hair, sweeping it to one side, and climbed out of the other side of the Land Rover.
Jenna hugged his host and stepped back. “Thank you so much for giving Drew a room. It’s kind of you.”
Drew didn’t sashay and instead ambled toward Duncan, hand outstretched. “Yes, thank you for giving me somewhere to lay my head. It’s good to meet you.”
Duncan gazed, wide-eyed, up Drew’s body until he reached his face. Drew shivered as the hair on his arms rose in response to such scrutiny.
Finally, Duncan spoke. “It’s no problem as long as you don’t mind being here among the visitors and the animals, although there’s only us in the main house. The cabins have their own facilities.” Duncan took Drew’s hand in a firm grip and shook it for a fraction longer than Drew expected.
Drew’s libido ratcheted up another level at the sound of Duncan’s voice. He was sure his insides had turned to mush. He wanted to wrap his body around the man and climb him like a sturdy oak tree. He had a thing for voices, particularly deep manly ones. Ol’ Man River, sung by a great bass, could have him squirming in his seat. He needed to pull himself together. They’d be sleeping—just them—in a house—together—alone. Oh, hell.
Duncan smiled. “I’ll get your bags, sir.”
