To Scotland, With Love
Chapter 1
Aye, I believe in the MacLean curse. If ye'd seen the blinding white lightning and heard the roar of thunder over MacLean Castle on a clear summer morn as I have, ye'd believe it, too.
OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING
"Argh! Bentley! Where are you?"
The yell echoed through the morning air, over the loud clops from the horses and carts that were just beginning to stir in Mayfair, London's most fashionable district.
Startled, Gregor MacLean stepped back from the ornate door of Oglivie House and glanced up at the open third-story window.
It was far too early for drama. Well, it was too early at most domiciles. At Oglivie House, drama was never out of fashion.
Gregor bit back an impatient sigh and stepped forward, rapping the knocker hard. The Oglivies were silly, extremely emotional, and far too given to excitement. Nothing could have brought him to this door except their one and only daughter, Venetia. Calm, logical, and rarely indulging in unseemly displays of emotion, Venetia easily offs ... read full excerpt from To Scotland, with Love ebook