A Scottish Christmas (Lost in Scotland Book 3)

  Table of Contents

  A Scottish Christmas

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  A SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS

  SPOILER ALERT: A SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS IS A CONTINUATION OF A SCOTTISH WEDDING! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE FIRST BOOK IN THE SERIES, PICK UP LOST IN SCOTLAND HERE.

  A SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS

  HILARIA ALEXANDER

  To the readers:

  Thank you for loving these characters and asking for more.

  A Scottish Christmas is for you.

  CHAPTER 1

  SAM

  BLISS. Before that day, it had been three months of bliss.

  Sure, our schedules were insane and it wasn’t the way I’d envisioned things when I thought about getting married.

  We hadn’t even had a proper honeymoon; we simply didn’t have the time.

  As the lead actor and the makeup artist on a fantasy series set in a remote area of Scotland, my husband and I had no opportunity to sail away for a honeymoon.

  I loved Scotland, but I couldn’t deny that I dreamt of beaches.

  The Caribbean, Hawaii, Thailand, Mauritius, or Fiji. . . I wasn’t picky.

  Any one of them would have worked.

  One day—possibly as soon as we wrapped on season two and maybe right before Hugh had to start shooting a movie in New York.

  He had been cast for a small-budget action flick that was set to start shooting in June. I was over the moon for him, so happy he finally had access to more roles.

  A honeymoon…on a peaceful, quiet beach…

  The tension in my shoulders seemed to dissipate at just the thought of warm, sandy beaches and crystal blue water. As a California transplant in Scotland, I couldn’t deny that warmer destinations called to me now and then.

  I’d heard a rumor on set that we might have to move the production of season three to Morocco, and I had to admit the idea excited me, even though I never wanted to leave the little cottage where we lived.

  It was nestled at the bottom of a valley, not far from the beach, though not the type I dreamt of.

  It was a rainy Scotland beach.

  I loved taking walks by the stormy ocean, and more importantly, it was home.

  To me, it was the most enchanting place, and some days I still couldn’t believe I got to call it mine. We’d stumbled on the cottage by chance. When Hugh and I had first gotten together, we’d gone there on a weekend.

  Many months later, Hugh had surprised me with a fairytale-worthy proposal, and the engagement ring came with the deed of trust for the property. The man could really think of everything . . . whenever he wasn’t set on irritating me.

  Husbands.

  At the moment, my beautiful, talented, kindhearted husband was set on making me lose my temper, for reasons to me unknown.

  It was December, and a ghastly winter day at that.

  The weather had been hellish all week, with below freezing temperatures and unrelenting winds. I shivered in my parka, thinking about the long hours spent outdoors. It wasn’t too bad when we were working inside a studio, but of course we’d had to spend a couple of days reshooting some outdoor scenes.

  Now that was behind us—thank goodness—and we were finally on Christmas break.

  It was going to be the very first year I wouldn’t be joining my family for the holidays. We used to either spend the holidays in LA or travel wherever Amira had to be for work. After the previous year’s fiasco when I got stuck at London’s airport for more than a day because of a horrific snowstorm, I decided I wouldn’t be jetting across the globe again this year.

  I had seen my family three months prior, when they traveled to Scotland to attend our wedding—the surprise wedding I had thrown my fiancé.

  I glanced at my phone, hoping to find a call from him.

  Nothing. Radio silence.

  It was our first day off and I’d wanted to spend it together, but Hugh had other ideas. Apparently, he’d promised his male costars he would go on a hike with them before we had to go to Oxford to his parents’ place.

  While my husband was an outdoorsy man through and through, I could only take so much. Being out on the mountains on a cold December day was not my idea of fun.

  I shook my head, thinking about how he and his friend Mika were positively insane.

  On top of leaving me by myself, my darling husband had given me a list of presents for his family that I absolutely had to get.

  I’d begrudgingly headed to Edinburgh to do some shopping since St. Martin, the little town where we lived, lacked a bit in the shopping department.

  Christmas shopping in Edinburgh was a far cry from Christmas shopping at The Grove in LA, surrounded by A-list actors and paparazzi trying to take their pictures.

  Even so, I enjoyed walking around the busy streets of Edinburgh, and the town had gone through quite the transformation since the last time I had been there. Christmas decorations were everywhere, and the streets were lined with arches of lights upon lights. I was almost a bit sad I was there during the daytime and might not have the chance to see them lit up.

  Everyone from the merchants to the tourists seemed to be in a cheery Christmas mood. There was not one, but two different Christmas markets—one on George Street, and the other one at East Princes Street Gardens with vendors selling everything from food and crafts to paintings and leather goods.

  Although my husband had irritated me with his list of presents for his family—on top of what I had already gotten them—I had one errand of my own to run there, so all in all, it wasn’t too bad.

  But, part of me really wished Hugh could have come along. My errand had something to do with him, and now he wouldn’t get to find out what it was until later.

  I looked at the handwritten list I’d gotten from him and sighed, seeing that I was finally nearing the end of my shopping trip. I had crossed off every item, and I was about ready to head back to St. Martin.

  Me: I’ve taken care of ALL the Christmas shopping. I’m heading home.

  His text appeared just a few seconds after.

  Hugh: Not yet.

  Me: What? Why?

  Hugh: Just do as I say, Sam.

  Me: What does it matter to you if I go home or not? You’re not even there!

  Just then, my phone started buzzing. I saw his name flash on the screen and let out an irritated sigh.

  “Hugh MacLeod, this is a bunch of crap!”

  “Sam,” he said in a low, breathy voice. He sounded like he was panting.

  What is he doing?

  “Are you still hiking?”

  “Yes—I mean…no.”

  “Why do you sound out of breath?”

  I heard a male voice in the background shout something. For some reason, I couldn’t place who it was.

  “Who’s there with you? You better tell me the truth!”

  “Why, Sam, are you a wee bit jealous?” I didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning on the other end. Smartass.

  “What do you think, MacLeod? Number one, you ditch me to go with your friends. Then, you give me a list of things to get for your . . . our family”—I corrected myself—“and then you tell me I can’t go home? What fresh load of bullshit is this?”

  He laughed. It was a sound I knew so well and loved so much, it made it practically impossible to be mad at him.

  “I have to confess, I do love when you start cussing,” he said with a chuckle.
<
br />   “Soon you won’t be so pleased. I’m a wee bit tired and I still have so much to do. I need to pack and . . . aren’t we supposed to leave tonight?”

  “Or we could leave tomorrow . . . and have a night alone without having to get up at dawn to go to work. Let me make it up to you, Sam,” he said in a lower tone of voice.

  Well, that changed things…almost…sort of. If there was one who could persuade me at times, it was him.

  “Hmmm, I like the sound of that.” A night alone, without the dreaded five o’ clock alarm…and he said he’d make it up to me.

  If I could count on anything, it was the fact that the man knew how to keep a promise, especially when it came to keeping his wife happy in bed.

  “Fine, but I’m coming home now. I don’t care that you don’t want me to come back yet . . . what’s your motive, anyway?” I asked, and I heard him exhale on the other end, but he didn’t say a word.

  It was then that I realized something.

  I frowned, suddenly suspicious.

  “Wait . . . MacLeod, what are you orchestrating?”

  “Nothing, Sam, but I have to confess that I lied to you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry, but I knew if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t be happy.”

  A deep sigh escaped my lips and a strange ache took over my stomach.

  Hugh and I never lied to each other—well, except for when I’d had to lie to him about the wedding, but we always told each other everything else. It was one of the things we’d agreed on right from the start. He’d lied to me? My head felt dizzy, my knees wobbly. I needed to sit down somewhere. I was holding my phone with one hand and I had five different bags laden with Christmas presents in the other, and my husband of three months had just admitted to lying to me.

  “What did you lie about, Hugh?” I let out in a frustrated tone.

  “I didn’t go on a hike. I . . . I’ve been here at the house, training with Winston for one last workout.”

  “Winston? You’ve been training with Winston after what we talked about?” I asked in disbelief, but I was partly amused by the absurdity of the situation. My husband was addicted to working out. Sure, it came with the role, but I’d told him I thought he was taking it entirely too far.

  Now he’d gotten to the point of hiding things from me so that he could sneak in another workout before the holidays.

  Insanity.

  “We better look into some kind of rehab facility for you, mister. You are officially addicted to working out, but dinna fash, laddie. I’m on my way to rescue you from Winston Styles . . . and from yourself. I’m coming home, babe.”

  “Fine,” he said in a husky, sexy-as-hell voice, the kind that made me tingly from head to toe. I could picture him, bright eyes full of mirth and a smirk on his face.

  I headed toward the parking lot and started making my way home.

  CHAPTER 2

  SAM

  WHEN I LIVED IN LA, I spent half of my life in the car, or at least it felt like that.

  Between my commute to and from work and trying to reach every other darn place in the city, I felt like I wasted precious hours of my life behind the wheel.

  Since I’d moved to Scotland, that had changed dramatically. The year before, the condo where Cecilia and I had lived had been just a short walk away from the set. Now, we were a bit far out in the valley, but our commute to and from work was barely thirty minutes, nothing compared to the traffic in LA.

  I was listening to a playlist of songs I’d made recently and was singing my heart out.

  Karaoke nights at our favorite pub were still a pretty regular thing, and with my best friend Cecilia being a competitive cow, I had no choice but to keep practicing.

  I was singing along with M.I.A.’s “Bad Girls,” thinking how just the year before, I’d been the bad girl. I was the one who’d gotten shunned by her own people.

  I had been impulsive, and maybe what I’d done wasn’t right, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that revenge felt good.

  Everyone had a short memory in Hollywood in this day and age, and even though Eric and Quinn had found themselves at the center of a certain type of attention they hadn’t asked for, I was the one who’d paid in the end.

  But, that really didn’t matter, because if I hadn’t found myself jobless, I would have never made it to Scotland. I might have made some mistakes along the way, but all my mistakes had led me to Hugh, and that felt like a small miracle.

  I’d never met anyone else like him, someone who wore his heart on his sleeve and wasn’t afraid of commitment, someone who had big dreams but also valued family above everything else. Time and time again, he’d shown me how much I meant to him, how much he loved me, even when our future wasn’t a certainty.

  As I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, I couldn’t help thinking how much things had changed from the previous year.

  I wasn’t an outcast anymore.

  I had the kind of job I’d been dreaming of for ages. Being a makeup artist on Abarath was as gratifying as it was challenging, and the work made me happy—really happy.

  That said, there was no denying Hugh was the one who made my days better.

  I had dealt with actors with widely varying personalities ever since I’d started working in LA, but he had been amiable since day one, even when we weren’t together yet. It had almost been strange the way we seemed to get along, on and off the set. When Eric and I had been together, we hadn’t gotten along so well, even at the height of our relationship.

  With Hugh, it felt just like the movies, as if I was living my very own romantic comedy. It was almost too good to be true, and sometimes it felt like a cosmic force had matched us together. I remembered the line from Sleepless in Seattle, the one Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks utter before even meeting each other.

  It was like magic.

  I felt that way most of the time…but then my mind went back to the fact that he’d lied to me.

  Why did he do that?

  What does he have to hide?

  Had I been too unreasonable trying to keep him from spending too many hours working out, obsessing about his body, chasing some kind of unrealistic Hollywood standard? Sure, his role required it—up to a point. I had been worried that both he and his trainer were taking it too far.

  I’d only been worried about him; I wasn’t trying to control him. I wanted what was best for him, always, and the fact that he’d lied to me left a bad taste in my mouth.

  I felt queasy in my stomach and bile rose in my throat, as if I was going to throw up.

  Jesus, Sam. Take a chill pill.

  I knew my reaction was exaggerated.

  He just didn’t want to upset me, that’s all, I tried to reassure myself.

  By the time I made it out to St. Martin, the sky had gotten much darker. I thought about the lights I had seen in Edinburgh and made a mental note to tell Hugh we needed to go back before the festival of light was over. I wondered if we’d have the time. We always seemed to race against it, no matter how much we wanted to slow things down and enjoy life in our quiet, isolated cottage. Just the next day, we’d have to go to his parents’ home, and with a house full of rowdy boys, we’d probably have to sacrifice our privacy quite a bit.

  I loved Hugh’s brothers to pieces, but when they were all in the same room, they could be compared to five Cecilias put together, which was entirely too much.

  What I was really excited about was the trip I was going to take with my niece and nephew and their mother to the Harry Potter studios in London.

  Since my brother-in-law Declan was divorced, I felt the need to get to know his ex-wife so she could feel comfortable with me being around her kids.

  Growing up, I didn’t have much of large family. My father’s relatives were in London, and we’d only had the chance to visit a couple of times. On my mother’s side in California, we had no uncles or aunts, and therefore, no cousins.

  The MacLeods seemed a tight-kn
it group, and I wanted to get to know each one of them better. That included being an aunt to Claire and Rory.

  They had been absolutely adorable at our wedding, and I couldn’t wait to see the video of them walking down the aisle. Unfortunately, I had been told by our videographer that it wasn’t ready yet. We’d had a wedding magazine take our pictures and videos—part of the cover-up to surprise Hugh—so now we had to wait for them to publish our photos and the article before they’d give us anything.

  Impatience didn’t look good on me.

  I thought about the other errand I’d had to run in Edinburgh.

  I’d wanted Hugh to come along with me, but I realized this way, it would make for a much better surprise.

  I drove slowly as I reached the hills that led to our cottage. It was dark, and I constantly worried that a deer or some other animal would jump in front of the car and make me lose control.

  I could handle traffic in LA, but I couldn’t handle the wild beasts of the Scottish Highlands.

  I took the final turn that separated me from one of the views I loved the most.

  Our cottage was small and quaint, but recently updated with all kinds of comforts. At night, you could usually only see the lights that lined the driveway. I looked down in the direction of our home, expecting the lights to be on since Hugh was at the house, but my eyes bugged out at the view of something completely unexpected.

  The entire cottage was covered in Christmas lights, just as I was used to doing back in the US. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but I was distracted by the multitude of color and lights that had now started changing and blinking in synchronized movements.

  That man.

  He’d lied to me all right, because he’d wanted to pull one over on me—again.

  I shook my head in disbelief, unable to stop the huge grin spreading across my face. I pressed my foot on the accelerator, impatient to get home. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road as the sudden knot in my throat made fresh tears spill out of my eyes. I blinked them away and took a deep breath as I finally made it to the dirt road that led to our house.