Wild Scottish Rose

Book 4: The Enchanted Highlands

by Tricia O'Malley

Genres: Fantasy Romance; Witches; Paranormal; Romantic Fantasy

Synopsis

Is a rose without its thorns any less beautiful?

Shona Scott would much rather putter in her garden than deal with brides that get hysterical over floral arrangements. Fed up, she quits the wedding business and renovates a small cottage on her property for holiday rentals. Without the weddings crowding her calendar, Shona will finally get some time to explore a newfound talent. An unexplainable one, at that.

Owen Williams lands in Scotland for a family wedding, only to prolong his trip after his best friend has a terrifying accident on the waters of Loch Mirren. A documentary filmmaker, Owen’s quest for the truth drives him to Loren Brae, determined to uncover the secrets of what lies in the loch. When Owen books Shona’s cottage, he’s thrust into an unexpected attraction for the beautiful gardener who is determined to keep him at arm’s length.

As Shona’s magic unfolds, she must do everything in her power to hide the secrets of Loren Brae from Owen, even if it means ignoring her own heart.

Can love bloom if the seed is planted with doubt?

Release date: January 19, 2024

Publisher: Lovewrite Publishing

Sample

Chapter 1

Shona

 

“I said I wanted Calla lilies.”

I tensed as the bride’s voice cut through the din of chatter where my team, as well as the venue staff, were setting up the reception area for the wedding that evening. Turning, I pasted a polite smile on my face as the bride, Kennedy Williams of Dallas, Texas, bore down on me. Her pretty face was screwed up in anger and her eyes were alight with battle.

Life is going to be difficult for Kennedy if she got this angry over flowers. 

“I’m certain that you didn’t. But I’ll just double-check the order form if you’d like confirmation?” I pulled up my phone and flipped through the orders that I had neatly organized in a file, even though I was well aware that Miss Kennedy Williams had ordered white roses for her centerpieces. The arrangements were simple and beautiful, as instructed on the order form, and I’d chosen roses at varying stages of bloom to add depth to the centerpieces. Even though white roses were the most common order I received from brides, I still enjoyed working with the flower. It was one of my favorites, after all. Even more exciting? An opportunity to decorate at Òran Mór, a fabulous reception venue in Glasgow housed in a renovated church. It was my first time traveling this far for a wedding, and I was hoping to enjoy seeing some of the city after we finished setting up.

Life in Loren Brae was lovely, and while I didn’t mind small-town life, it was still nice to get to the city on occasion for some excitement. And shopping. My heart did a little dance thinking about the money I’d carefully saved to buy some extravagant lingerie. It was a secret passion of mine because much of my life was spent mucking in the dirt, and it was useless to buy pretty clothes that would just get ruined. Now, my earlier excitement at working with the incredible team at Òran Mór, and the prospect of a shopping trip, dimmed. Already I could see my chance to shop being pulled away from me as I mentally readied myself to change all the arrangements right before the reception. It would be a mad dash, and I’d have to call in some favors from local florists, but it could be done if needed.

“White roses?” Kennedy sneered as I pulled up her order. “How positively boring. I definitely ordered the lilies.”

“No,” I began, turning my phone to show her the screen.

“Lilies? Aren’t lilies for funerals?” a voice interrupted us, and a shiver danced across the back of my neck.

“What?” A look of confusion crossed Kennedy’s face and she whirled on the man who approached us.

I suppose “approached” was too casual a word for how this man strode confidently across the hall, outfitted in a perfectly fit tuxedo, with a tartan bow and matching pocket square. He moved like a panther, his eyes darting across the room, and seeming to take in every detail at once. When they landed on me, his assessment stopped, and a smile landed on his lips. Close-cropped dark hair, lively blue eyes, and broad shoulders completed the package and I found myself desperately wishing I’d dressed up today.

Which was silly, really, considering that dressing up didn’t make sense with the amount of manual labor it took to decorate an entire reception hall with flowers. It wasn’t just putting vases of flowers on the tables—there were garlands to be hung, vines to be entwined, and lighting to be added. Frankly, I wasn’t even sure I owned anything that this class of man would find appealing. Either way, jeans, a T-shirt, and trainers were the smart choice for my line of work. And that was me. Sensible to my core.

What was it about this man that instantly made me not want to be sensible?

“Lilies are traditionally used for funerals. You wouldn’t want people to think that your marriage is a death, would you?” The man turned to Kennedy, who looked up at him with annoyance on her face.

“Damn it, Owen. Why do you always come in and screw things up when I’m just trying to get things handled?” Kennedy demanded.

“Kennedy, if I may? It does say here on your form that you ordered the roses. See?” I brandished my phone, hoping to head off an argument between these two, but neither bothered to glance my way.

“See? The pretty flower lady says you ordered roses. Frankly, I’m surprised at that choice as well,” Owen said. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Kennedy a wry smile.

“What’s wrong with roses?” Kennedy demanded, immediately jumping ship from the lily train to roses. Relief passed through me. If she was going to defend roses, then maybe I’d be off the hook and could get back to decorating. Easing back a step, hoping to leave them to their argument, I caught the eye of my assistant who hovered nearby with a vase in hand and a questioning looking on her face. I gave her a subtle nod, and she continued to set up while I waited to hear the outcome of this discussion.

“Nothing, of course, as these vases are perfection in their own right.” Owen slid me a grin and I’m pretty sure my insides melted. His American accent held a hint of the South and somewhere else, but I wasn’t sufficiently well-versed in accents to place it. I wanted to inch closer, to be drawn into his hemisphere, just to listen to him talk.

Never had I met a man with so much charisma before.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt this way, as I caught more than one of the event staff giving him appreciative looks.

“It’s just that …” Owen continued, tapping a finger against his lips. “We’re in Scotland, right? I’m surprised you didn’t go with something more traditional to the venue.”

My stomach dropped. If I had to run out and find thistles, I would, even if it meant cutting them from the side of the road.

“You’re right,” Kennedy gasped and gripped his arm. “What was I thinking? What should I add in?”

“Haggis, naturally.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I pressed my lips together to hold back a burst of laughter. Surely the bride had to know that haggis was a dish, not a flower. My eyes widened as Kennedy whirled on me.

“Shona. I need you to get wild haggis for the centerpieces.” Kennedy snapped her fingers at me, her eyes bright with determination, and I blinked at her as I tried to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t embarrass the bride. She didn’t seem like the type to be able to laugh at a joke at her own expense.

“Well—”

“In fact, you’ll probably want haggis added to the bridal bouquet as well. Oh, and the boutonnieres for the men. Maybe the bartenders could make a haggis drink?”

“Of course! Like my lavender-infused martinis that I love.” Kennedy turned and stormed across the room to the bar, and I was grateful for the momentary reprieve, though now I had to come up with a way to tell her that I wasn’t about to put meat flowers in her bouquet.

“I’m probably going to hell. But I do so love winding her up. I’m Owen, by the way.” Owen held out his hand I took it automatically, though my stomach twisted in knots about how to deal with this latest catastrophe.

“Shona,” I said, faintly, my eyes on where Kennedy berated one of the bartenders about a haggis martini.

“My apologies, Shona, that you have to deal with Kennedy. She’s not always this difficult …” Owen trailed off as he squinted his eyes. “Actually, never mind, she is. In fact, I’m now warming to the idea of haggis in her flowers.”

“But … I can’t … possibly …” I held my hands up, at a loss for words.

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to.” Owen pursed his lips and studied me, clearly used to people falling in line with his plans. I wanted to, I really wanted to, because there was something about the wicked glint in his eyes that made me want to be naughty even just for a bit.

I was so done with weddings.

It wasn’t that all of them were awful, or anything like that, I was just over doing flowers for weddings. The stress never lived up to the enjoyment for me. I’d much rather be back home, nurturing my plants, and selling my wares at farmers markets. It was my comfort zone and this … well, this was not what I needed right now.

“Shona!” Kennedy shouted from across the room, stomping her foot, and Owen intervened.

“I’ll handle her. Just get your decorations out as you see fit. She’ll be happy enough once she’s married.” It came out as an order, and I found my attraction to this man instantly diminishing. Men like him? Yeah, they were used to dealing with women like Kennedy. He could very well handle it while I stuck to what I knew best—plants.

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” I infused enough syrupy sweetness in my voice, so Owen knew that I was annoyed with him.

“Sassy. I like it.” Owen winked at me. Damn it, but I found the wink sexy, and I hated myself for doing so. It was so cliché. The wink. The charm. The casual ease in a tuxedo. Owen was not my type of people. Why I even found myself attracted to him was beyond me.

“Your opinion matters little to me,” I surprised myself by saying, and the grin widened on Owen’s face before he sauntered away. What was wrong with me? I’d just insulted a client’s guest. That would not bode well for my business. Even if I’d promised myself that I was done with weddings, I still didn’t want to get any bad online reviews.

“Why is the bride screaming about haggis?” my assistant whispered in my ear. I kept my eyes trained on Owen as he pulled Kennedy away from the bar.

“Who is that?” I asked, turning to unwrap the padding from around a vase.

“The one who knows exactly what he’s about?” My assistant fanned her face, and I rolled my eyes. “That’s the brother.”

Of course it was. Nothing like directly insulting a family member. I’d have to apologize later. But for now, I needed to make a plan.

“Do we still have the extra bucket of white heather in the van?” The bride hadn’t asked for it, but I typically brought some along in case any spots needed filling.

“We do. Are we adding it?”

“We are. If anyone asks … it’s wild haggis.”