He stepped closer, the scent of peat smoke and rain following him. Elena found herself backing against the rough stone of the manor wall, her heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with business. He wasn't just defending his home; he was challenging her to see past her spreadsheets and schedules.
The mist clung to the Scottish Highlands like a heavy velvet shroud, but for Elena, the chill was the least of her concerns. Standing before her, framed by the jagged peaks of Glencoe, was Lachlan MacKinley—a man who looked more like a storm personified than a Highland laird. With his broad shoulders draped in the faded greens and blues of his clan’s tartan and eyes the color of the restless Atlantic, he was the very definition of a temptation she couldn't afford.
Elena had come to the estate to finalize a land deal that would save her family’s legacy, but Lachlan was a wall of stubborn pride. "You speak of gold and papers, lass," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the damp air, "but this land doesn't belong to the Crown or your banks. It belongs to the spirits that bled for it."
A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I am very much flesh and blood, Elena. And I think you’ve known that since the moment you stepped off the train."
This is a short story inspired by the romantic and rugged themes of Ese highlander es una tentacion by Jenny Del-hol.