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Chapter One
Thane
I clamp my hands down on the walkway railing, gazing down at the odd shapes of the four copper stills on the floor below me. Why do whisky stills look like a bizarre version of a man's bollocks? There's something strangely erotic about the way the stills begin as fat ovals and stretch up into an almost dokey-like shape. Aye, now I'm thinking about my cock. The stills also resemble a woman's breasts. I'm not aroused, though, despite the imagery.
Why? Because I'm too bloody busy contemplating the fate of my wee distillery.
This is my company. I created it, I own it, and I am the man in charge. I'd always wanted to have my own business, and I love single-malt Scotch. So why not become a master distiller? But we need more stills if we're going to become competitive in the Highland whisky market.
A bonnie brown-haired lass walks up beside me, smiling down at the large stills. I smile at Fiona Sterling, but she's focused on the main floor below us. I sometimes forget that she's no longer Fiona MacTaggart, since she married Domhnall Sterling only a few months ago.
Fiona tips her head side to side as if she's studying the copper contraptions below us. "Have ye ever noticed that whisky stills look an awful lot like tits?"
"It would be sexist for me to admit that even if it's true."
"You are always cagey, Thane. Maybe that's why you've never had a long-term relationship."
"Did ye come up here to talk about my love life? Or are you actually doing your job?"
She shakes her head, giving me a long-suffering look. "Dinnae get grumpy with me."
"I have never been grumpy." But aye, I might be behaving in a less-than-serene manner right now. Fiona bloody well knows why. "You and the other lasses in our circle want to change me. I'm not interested in dating, for now. Saving my fledgling business is all I have time for."
Fiona smirks. "Are you regretting making me distillery manager? You probably thought I'd go easy on you because we dated briefly years ago and shagged a few times. But you put me in charge of the business. That means you have only yourself to blame if you're unhappy."
"Aye, I know that. You're doing an excellent job."
"Thank you." She sidles closer and hooks an arm around my bicep. "Now, tell me what's really fashing you today."
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, exhaling out all the tension in my body and mind. "Your mother and my mother have conspired to harass me about my single-man status."
"They want to help you, that's all."
"And I appreciate the thought. But I dinnae need help."
My thoughts rewind to several months ago and the thing Domhnall Sterling had told me at the engagement ceilidh for him and Fiona. "You'll be next, Thane Buchanan, mark my words."
"Next for what?" I had asked.
Domhnall's response had not placated me at all. "The meddling, of course. You can't escape the American Wives Club."
"I can, and I will."
Fiona kisses my cheek. "I know you won't be a grump about it when the meddling begins. You are the calmest, most rational man I've ever met."
I release a groaning sigh. "Not feeling particularly calm today. The business is swirling away down the drain."
The woman I have entrusted with my distillery steps away from me and studies the floor below us. "We need to expand, Thane."
"Aye. But I'm somewhat short on capital."
"Then ask your investors for help."
"But this was meant to be my distillery. I craft the whisky and keep this place running. I appreciate the money my mates have contributed, but I don't want to ask for more."
Fiona turns toward me and straps her arms over her chest. "I had a feeling you'd be less than cooperative. But you did put me in charge of the operation---"
"You already said that." I eye her sideways. "What are you plotting, Fiona?"
