Chapter One
I, Aidan MacTaggart, have a plan. Find a wife, but not just any wife—an American one. If Lachlan, my bossy oldest brother, could accidentally meet a woman who became his bride and his soul mate, then the actions that led him to happiness ought to work for me. I am "Don Juan" MacTaggart, after all. I have more skills in attracting lasses than my workaholic brothers. So that's how I wind up inside Dance Ardor, a dimly lit club in Chicago far from my home in the Scottish Highlands, determined to get myself an American girl.
My plan might have a few…flaws.
Aye, Lachlan met Erica here. And they are blissfully happy. But I wonder if my brother may have pulled a joke on me when he said every night was kilt night at Dance Ardor because I seem to be the only human in this place who wears the plaid.Bloody Lachlan.I know he wants revenge ever since I almost tricked his new bride into saying a slightly naughty Gaelic phrase. If he thought this would humiliate me, my brother doesn't know me as well as he thinks.
The lasses in the club watch me. Smiling. Batting their lashes.
Although I've been here for only a few minutes, already I've learned an important lesson. American women love a man in a kilt. Must be my legs they find intriguing.
I wander around the edge of the dance floor, past tables occupied by couples and groups. Ladies cast their appreciative gazes in my direction, but none of them interest me. I want a woman with substance and heart and—
My thoughts and my feet stumble to a halt. I've seen her. The woman of my dreams.
A redheaded girl has just exited a set of double doors that access some deeper region of the club. Her emerald-green dress matches her eyes, and its hem stops well above her charming knees. The daringly low neckline draws my focus to the slopes of her generous breasts. As I watch, she halts to glance around, as if she's looking for someone.
Please, don't let her have a man waiting for her.
Every sweep of the multicolored strobe lights ignites stunning highlights in her fiery red hair and green eyes.Bod an Donais, those eyes are hypnotizing. Even from this distance, their color reminds me of jewels, and her lips… I want to catch them between my teeth and taste their flavor, then plunge deep into her mouth.
I rush toward her.
Aye, Lachlan and Rory would never do this. My brothers think things through, but I act on impulse. If they saw this woman… I would shove them out of the way to get to her. She is the most enticing lass I've ever laid eyes on, and I have to know her.
The beauty's gaze travels the club, everywhere but in my direction.
Just as I reach her, she turns and bumps into me.
The wee lass yelps and throws her hands up. They land on my chest, the delicate weight of them begging me to clasp her hands in mine. I can't stop my gaze from flying to her cleavage, to the half-exposed mounds of her breasts. Since she's much shorter than I am, I have a perfect view down the neckline of her dress. I shouldn't gawp at her cleavage—it's rude, I know that—but I can't help it.
The lovely curve of her throat snares my attention. And those perfect earlobes. I fight the urge to lunge down and take one in my mouth.
She stares at my chest, the bit of it visible where the top buttons of my shirt are undone.
I can't resist the urge any longer. I settle my hands over hers on my chest. Her skin is soft as silk and warm too, and my hands almost completely cover hers.
"Well now," I say, "I've been looking for a bonnie lass, but I didn't expect to literally run into one."
She stumbles backward a step, blinking rapidly, like she's dazed. Her gaze sweeps over me, from my leather boots up my legs and over my hips to my arms, and finally to my face. She angles her head back and blinks again, slowly this time, as our eyes meet.
Desire simmers inside me, heating up more every second. I want her—in my bed, in my life, and maybe as my wife. Only one way to know if she is the woman I've been looking for.
A lock of her flame-red hair has fallen over her eyes.
I brush the lock away from her face. "Your dress brings out the green of your eyes. But this lighting can't do justice to your beautiful red hair."
She sweeps her appreciative gaze over me again, and her tongue darts out to moisten her lower lip. With a tiny shake of her head, she seems to rouse herself from a fantasy—of me, I hope—and a faint blush dapples her cheeks.
Bonnie, adorable lass.
I tilt my head to study her face. "You're the one I've been looking for, I think."
My future wife smooths out her dress, clears her throat, and lifts her chin. Whether it's defiance or a simple need to look up to meet my gaze, I don't care. She's so luscious and cute that I want to drag her into my arms just to feel her soft, warm body against me.
"Are you looking for the party?" she asks.
Party? No, I hadn't been looking for one. If this lass wants to take me to a party, though, I'll go along. Anything to spend more time in her presence. I let my lips slide into my best wicked smirk, the one the ladies always appreciate. "Aye."