My Highland Billionaire

The castle interior was vast, and Suzie explored each day, poking into rooms filled with elegant furniture and valuable paintings, walls of books, and an enormous snooker table. She loved the feminine bedrooms with their attached dressing rooms and the bathroom she’d discovered with an old clawfoot tub in excellent condition.

Attending the Highland Gathering events took up most of her time. Despite her unwillingness, she’d mingled with other single shifters and participated in activities because Saber Mitchell and London Drummond had asked her to represent Middlemarch.

This morning, her steps dragged, her enthusiasm at an all-time low. Edwina had gone. Her best friend had left with the handsome man who’d carried her from the ballroom. She hadn’t boxed his ears or slapped his face. She hadn’t marched back into the castle, indignant at his cheek.
She’d vanished.

Suzie sighed and tried not to think ill of her friend.

Each of the six shifters from Middlemarch had known they might find a mate among the gathering attendees, but Suzie had started to relax. She and Edwina would successfully navigate the gathering to take up their university places in Wellington. They’d upskill together as they’d planned.

Suzie slowed as she took in the portraits. The subjects stared disapprovingly and arrogantly from their frames. She sighed again, depression taking a grip.

Dark thoughts.

Why me pity.

Anger at her friend despite the unfairness of her thoughts.

Saber and London had explained how difficult it was to ignore a mate bond, and Suzie had seen evidence of this truth this week. Hormones and nature were a bitch, especially if you had shifter blood.

Muttering under her breath and cursing fate, she strolled through a reception room and past a gleaming suit of armor. A delicate marble urn sat in an alcove, a spotlight showcasing the sheer beauty of the artistry. She wandered through a short passageway and lingered in front of a staircase. A chain hung across the stairs as a flimsy barrier with a sign attached that read Private. No admittance.

That sign had taunted her since day one of her arrival at the gathering.

Curiosity nagged at her, diverting her dark mood. Questions.

She’d grilled Angus Falconer, the castle steward, and he’d told her Castle Glenkirk had been rundown and unkempt until a Scottish billionaire had purchased the property and set about restoring it to its former glory. Not the current owner, though. He’d inherited the property. Angus had told her the man’s name: Niall Sinclair. Her internet search had turned up surprisingly little, and Angus steadfastly refused to give her more than the basics.

A thought prickled through her mind, and her breath caught. She glanced left and right and couldn’t see any staff or guests. Suzie stepped closer to the sign before the impulse even registered. A second later, she was tiptoeing lightly up the stairs and around the corner.

Her pulse raced, and she fleetingly wondered what trouble might result from her nosiness. Gah! The worst they could do was kick her out of the gathering, which would suit her fine. The number of shifters had dwindled, although rumor told her more would show tomorrow. New arrivals brought the risk of her finding a mate, ruining her plans.

When she reached the top, she hesitated over which direction to explore. Her instincts prompted her to the right.

Angus had told her the owner lived in the castle, so it made sense that the rooms on this level mixed antiques with modern living. The deep chocolate brown couches were comfortable and built on the sturdy side. She could imagine a man lounging here, watching a rugby game while drinking a glass of Scottish whisky. Well, almost. Nowhere in this room could she see a large-screen television.

“Where the devil have you been?”

Suzie jumped at the irate Scottish burr and opened her mouth to apologize and explain she’d taken a wrong turn while searching for a bathroom. She faced the grumpy man, and her mouth dried of spit. While she was trying to corral her thoughts, the handsome, suit-wearing lug continued his tirade.

“I expected you an hour ago. Well, come along. Stop dithering. We have work to do.”