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“It’s going to be so exciting! I’ve already started planning the wedding and got my mood boards set up. And I want all you ladies to help me—especially Vivi, she’ll be amazing at this, yeah?”
“Oh my God, yes, she’d plan the whole thing if you wanted her to!” Jenn laughed.
“Are you actually coming inside, or what?” Ruairidh called from the door.
“Haha, just a sec! VIP chat happening here!” Jenn shouted back, blowing him a kiss.
Ruairidh rolled his eyes but blew her a kiss back.
It was Hogmanay, and Ruairidh and Jenn had arrived at Ally’s house. Or castle, she should say. Jenn hadn’t even got out of the car before Màiri came flying down the steps, eager to see her, excitement written all over her face. They’d spent the last few minutes outside, chattering frantically about the proposal, the ring, and the wedding.
“Actually, let’s go inside and get some of this special champagne that Ally has apparently reserved for us tonight. We were waiting on you lot to arrive before we popped it open,” Màiri said, linking arms with Jenn as they headed for the door. “Oh, and by the way, you look amazing.” She gave Jenn the once-over. “Love that dress!”
“Thanks! So do you—you look beautiful. Matching your ring. I can’t believe I forgot to say that—I was too caught up in all the wedding chat.” Jenn smiled down at Màiri’s sparkly dress, matching the ring’s dazzle. “I’m so excited for tonight—and it’s so nice to get all dolled up!”
“I know, right?” Màiri beamed. “And Ally’s family’s Hogmanay parties are legendary. Just a shame the others can’t make it.” They made their way towards the castle entrance.
“We’ll have plenty of bubbly celebrations when they’re back,” Jenn promised.
“Bloody hell, this place really is a castle, isn’t it?” She stopped short and looked around, taking in the grandeur.
“Never been up here before?” Màiri asked.
“Obviously, I came up when I was younger. I remember the castle on the loch and all that. But I have definitely never been inside. I just think it’s weird and mental that this is where Ally lives.” Jenn shook her head as they went up the front steps to the huge wooden double doors—thankfully, no ominous portcullis in sight.
Ally lived in Eilean Sìth Castle, seat of Clan MacDonald of Hellisay. Even in the dark, the castle’s glow made it clear why it graced so many Hebrides postcards. Three storeys of grey stone loomed like something out of Game of Thrones—it’d been a Viking stronghold, so proper fortress vibes. Then someone, presumably after a few too many whiskies, had gone rogue with the design and added whimsical fairy turrets, like the castle’s version of a glittery tiara—clashing beautifully with the austere stone. Various wings and outbuildings sprawled around the loch, housing a whisky distillery and even a few cottages roughly the size of Jenn’s own place. To reach the castle, you crossed a bridge over the loch, making the whole thing feel like a fairytale set piece. Jenn half-expected someone to demand a tithe.
Jenn actually gasped stepping inside the Grand Hall, earning a delighted giggle from Màiri. Outside was cold stone, but inside? Warm, inviting, and effortlessly grand. Dark wood floors stretched beneath cream walls hung with oil paintings, portraits that looked very like historical versions of Ally, and swords that looked like they could tell stories. Elegant chandeliers and candle-like sconces cast a cosy glow. The place was still decked out in its full festive glory—several towering Christmas trees stood like proud medieval knights, guarding the Grand Hall. Off to the left, a sprawling sitting room buzzed with chatty guests; to the right, a makeshift ladies’ cloakroom and powder room—move over, Downton Abbey. Next to it, a bathroom so big you could get lost in. Two wooden staircases curved off either side. Even with sixty-plus people milling about, the space felt grand, with a few hardy souls braving the chilly courtyard outside. This wasn’t just pre-drinks. This was pre-drinks sponsored by the National Trust—or Hogwarts, if Hogwarts did vintage champagne and canapés.
“How are you, Jenn? Nollaig Chridheil!” Ally’s voice broke through Jenn’s wide-eyed awe. Dressed head-to-toe in full kilt regalia, he was every inch the future Clan Chief.
“Merry Christmas, Ally! This place is incredible. I’m genuinely shocked.” Jenn hugged him warmly, and he returned it with easy affection, pressing the customary kiss to her cheek.
“Christmas does bring out its best side, I’ll admit.” He glanced around, smiling at the crowd. “If it wasn’t so packed, I’d give you the full tour—but you’ll have to come back. More importantly, shall we get to that special champagne for our special couple?”
“Oh yes, please!” Màiri squealed, clapping her hands.
Ally weaved through the crowd toward the kitchen, stopping every few feet for quick hellos.
In the kitchen, Ruairidh was already laying out champagne glasses alongside Cairistìona and Robert—plus two others Jenn hadn’t met but recognised instantly from photos and stories: Dol and Donnie, in the flesh.
“You two finally made it!” Ruairidh glanced up, his grin just for her—the slow, unhurried kind that warmed her all the way through. His eyes swept over her, their depths holding promises that sparked across her skin, before he went back to champagne duty.
Ruairidh, it had to be said, wore a kilt like it was a full-time calling. Broad shoulders, easy stance, and the briefest flash of flexing thigh as he set down the glassware—completely unaware of what he was doing to her composure. Or maybe he wasn’t unaware at all. Holy hell.
“Nollaig Chridheil!” Cairistìona and Robert swooped in for hugs, both dressed to impress. Robert, like every other man in the place, was rocking the full kilt ensemble—as if anyone on this island needed an excuse to flash a bit of tartan.
“Merry Christmas, guys! It’s so lovely to see you. You both look fabulous,” Jenn said, returning their hugs. “Any idea where MT and Neil are?”
“The last I saw them, they were checking in on the kids.”
“And so, we finally meet at last, Jenn. Merry Christmas.”
Jenn turned toward the low, seductive purr of a voice on her left—only to find herself enveloped by Donnie’s open arms. Oh. So, this was Donnie.
Where Ruairidh was more classic and understated hotness, Donnie was the opposite—broad, brawny, and dripping with pirate energy. His smile was lethal in the exact same way as his brother’s, only with an edge that said some poor woman was headed for heartbreak—and he’d grin the whole way through. He had a deep outdoorsy tan, the same shifting green-grey eyes as Màiri, and sun-kissed light brown hair that was just this side of rakish—long enough to look like he didn’t give a toss but just deliberate enough to be dangerous. Add in the permanent five o’clock shadow and the scar above his left eyebrow—the kind of detail that made him look like he’d once climbed out of a bar fight grinning—and you had trouble in human form.
“The infamous Donnie, no doubt! I’m so glad we’ve finally got to meet. Merry Christmas.” Jenn returned his hug, earning an easy kiss on each cheek.
