A Scot for Christmas (Jane Austen Fan Club Book 1) Read online

  A Scot for Christmas

  Victoria Pinder

  A Scot for Christmas

  Copyright©2020

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2020 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Series information

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About Victoria Pinder

  Since discovering that there is such a thing as the Jane Austen festival in Bath where people go for 10 days to reenact and live the times of Jane Austen, I wanted to go. My friend Grace Hartwel, a new regency author. Her pictures were great. So when the world opens up again, I’m seriously considering it. You can find information on the festival that inspired the novel here, https://www.janeaustenfestivalbath.co.uk

  Series information

  Please check out the entire Jane Austen and the Scots

  Scottish Seducer

  Scottish Wedding Date

  Scottish Second Chance

  Scottish New Year Bride

  A Scot for Christmas

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  Chapter 1

  Sophia

  I breathed in the scent of fresh snow, which reminded me of Christmas. As I walked down the London street, I passed the aroma of cinnamon rolls. Pedestrians stared at me like I was strange, because I grinned like an American, without a care about my crooked teeth.

  Soon I would see my friends and celebrate the holidays, and no one should be miserable at Christmastime—at least in my world. Life was better somehow when a fresh pine tree smell filled the air, including the lobby of the marketing building where I worked.

  For a moment, I could have sworn I saw Harris, my friend Charlotte’s neighbor in Scotland, whom I’d met weeks ago and who starred in my fantasy life, get on an elevator across the hall. But I blinked, and he was gone. Clearly, my brain was playing a bit of a trick on me as I waited for my elevator.

  I had a bounce in my step as I slid into my office on that Friday morning.

  No one was in their offices as I passed, though, so I must have been early. I reached my office and took my seat.

  Soon I would be in Bath with my friends at Jane Austen’s tearoom, and we would have our annual holiday tradition.

  The utter silence that filled the office was as distracting as a hurricane. I had no idea where anyone was or if I’d missed a memo about a day off. I jumped up to get myself a morning tea, took my cup to the electric kettle, and opened the cabinet for one of the tea bags.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind me, and I turned to face my boss at the door. His face was completely white. I tilted my head and started to say hello, but he asked, “What are you doing here, Sophia?”

  I narrowed my gaze as the water boiled behind me. “I work here.”

  His face turned bright red when he said, “You should have read your email last night or this morning.”

  Maybe the staff was all supposed to be somewhere else. My skin prickled. I’d spent half the night sewing my Jane Austen reenactment dress for the tea.

  I nodded and said, “Right…”

  Without another word, he stormed away. The halls were cold, and the lack of white noise was eerie. I took my teacup and returned to my office.

  I opened my work email, and when I read my new messages, I almost spilled my tea. My hands started to shake as I reread the words. “We no longer require your services. Please report to human resources for your severance.”

  I covered my lips and said, “Are you serious? Christmas is coming.” I gulped the last tea I would ever have there and grabbed my bag. At the last second, I decided to pack my teacup and rummage through my desk for my personal effects.

  Being fired at Christmas was one of those movie scenes that always seemed unbelievable.

  My entire body was cold and trembling as I left the office and headed downstairs.

  That wasn’t how I’d expected the day to go. My coworkers, who all seemed to be headed in the same direction, were mostly silent, but I received a few nods as I took my place in line. I supposed I wasn’t the only one being fired.

  Everyone else was British, so no one else had my immigration issues. My throat tightened as I imagined having to return to Denver.

  I would be stuck in a broken home with my alcoholic father until I figured out how to get a place to stay and start over. Or I would have to see my sister and my ex again. The night I’d discovered their betrayal, I bought a plane ticket to be even closer to Jane Austen’s world and forget my family.

  Before my mother had died, she’d trained me to follow my dreams and go after what I wanted, but that hadn’t included how to handle being let go.

  A week ago, I’d turned down a job back in America because I had envisioned some fantasy life in which I would see Harris again. That was gone, too, as romance took a back seat to reality, like it always did.

  Finally, I made it to the front of the line, and the HR representative handed me a form letter as she said, “The company is offering you a one-month severance package, and your retirement benefits will kick in automatically when you reach the age limit.”

  The letter said nothing about my immigration or how my job would support me.

  My heart raced as I said, “I don’t understand this.”

  She stopped typing and handed me a second letter. “The company will be working with freelancers from now on. If you’re interested in working with us and set up your own business, please apply on our website to see what jobs are available.”

  The pay was probably a fraction of what I’d been earning, and that didn’t solve my problem.

  However, my mother would have said, “You’ll figure it out, if you want it badly enough.” So I turned to let the next person in line in move forward. “Great. Thanks.”

  As I left, my chest felt hollow. I pas
sed a coffee shop that smelled like peppermint, and tears formed in my eyes.

  Londoners made a wider path for me as my emotions were as clear as day—well, probably clearer, as it was gloomy a lot of the time in London.

  I stepped back onto the tube to head to my flat. No one spoke to me, but that was fine. Once I left my station, my phone rang. I glanced at the clock. Half the morning was gone. It was my sister Alexa. She must have thought I was on my lunch break.

  I opened my building’s door and said, “Alexa… Merry Christmas.”

  I trekked up the steps to my small space.

  “Is it? I’m hoping you and I can talk.”

  Our relationship hadn’t involve much talking since she’d turned eighteen. She’d been my only friend until she’d decided she preferred my boyfriend’s apartment over our father’s house.

  I let myself in the door and said, “I can’t talk right now, Alexa. I have way too much… work.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you later, then, and hope you’ll forgive me.”

  If I asked if that meant she’d left David, I would get into a conversation I didn’t ever want to have. Besides, if I didn’t solve my crisis, I would be stuck in hell.

  I locked the door behind me then pulled out my computer and booted it up.

  I went to some online boards and found marketing positions. I would not move until I’d applied for three. I hated online forms that didn’t take resumes. Applying for more than three a day was exhausting.

  As I finished the third one, my phone rang. I stood to get a sip of water and saw the number of one of my best friends. I answered, “Amelia, hey.”

  I’d never asked them for help, but my American friends who’d moved to London because we all loved Jane Austen reenactments had become a second family, and we all understood each other.

  Amelia said quickly, “Stephanie and Charlotte are on the line too.”

  The team was all on, then. I missed them, especially Charlotte, whom I saw less because she’d married a Scottish duke and moved to Scotland.

  I sighed and said, “Hey.”

  Amelia laughed. “So we’re excited to see you tonight.”

  My mind raced. I was anxious, my stomach tightening. I tugged my ear in thought and asked, “Tonight?”

  Charlotte said, “It’s December first.”

  My day had clearly given me momentary amnesia. Damn. “Maybe…” My brow furrowed as I shook my head. “No, I can’t make it.”

  Stephanie said, “It won’t be the same without you.”

  No dime I spent would be replaced until I found another job. I stood taller and said, “I know, but I can’t afford it right now.”

  Charlotte replied, “Don’t worry. Remember, I’m paying for your ticket and your room with Amelia for the night so that you two aren’t at some horrible hotel.”

  She was a sweetheart. I’d agreed to stay at a five-star resort on her dime. But I just had to get there. Tears formed in my eyes. “Still.”

  “Your car will make it,” Amelia added.

  At least she was like me. We were pinching our pennies to ensure we could do what we enjoyed, having Jane Austen reenactments as much as possible.

  I let out a sigh. They were right. It was a two-hour drive to Bath, and gas for my car would be cheaper than the hired-car service I’d planned. I quickly grabbed my Jane Austen dress and said, “Right. I’d love to see you. Be there in a few hours.”

  My dress took a little longer to pack than I’d thought because it didn’t fit in a suitcase easily. I also packed my laptop, since I would need to continue the job hunt. I hoped someone would hire me before immigration caught on.

  When I was done, I tossed my stuff into the back seat and was ready to go. Amelia was already in Bath. She had gone a few days ago, since her job had given her the time off. Stephanie was who knew where with her billionaire husband that week, and Charlotte was flying in from her castle in Scotland.

  Scotland had been nice when I’d visited. Charlotte’s neighbor, Harris, was hilarious and sexy in that kilt of his.

  I turned the key in my old clunker, but the car didn’t start. My heart pounded, and I closed my eyes. I needed to go. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and turned the key. “Come on, car.” The motor hummed. Yes. I stroked my steering wheel as if my car were a pet and said, “Good girl. Let’s go.”

  Once I got on the road, I found a station with Christmas music. I sang along and tried to relax. All would be well.

  I left London and found the roads to Bath. My body even bounced to the cheerful songs.

  Everything would be okay. I needed to believe that.

  No one was on the roads, so I made good time. Then my car stopped.

  Damn.

  I’d checked the gas, so that wasn’t it.

  I cringed. It was turning out to be a horrible day. My eyes misted, and I screamed, but no one could hear me. Then I tried to turn the car on again. “Don’t die on me.”

  Nothing. I swallowed and wished for a sign that all would be okay, then I reached for my phone, and the universe laughed at me as white flakes fell on my car. I yelled more, then I said, “And it snows!”

  I wasn’t sure what all the bad luck meant, but it was way too much.

  I needed help. I picked up my phone and checked my email instead of calling for a car. “An interview… in Scotland!”

  I yelped my relief and replied with an acceptance. If I made it to Bath, then I would hitch a ride with Charlotte and be there for the interview.

  My heart raced. If I got a job there, I would see Harris again. He easily won the sexiest-man-I’d-ever-met award.

  I took a breather and tried my key again as lights of another car on the road blinked in the distance. I swallowed and said, “I need to get to this tea now.”

  Again, the car refused to start. Damn.

  I sighed then dialed for help. The headlights of the car behind me were getting close, so I put my hand out to wave the person around me. The car service person answered.

  I gave them my location and asked, “How long for a tow truck?”

  “Three hours,” he said.

  Damn. My friends would be sleeping if I ever made it to Bath. And the repairs would take pretty much every cent I didn’t have. I choked as I said, “I—”

  A knock on my window made me jump. I looked into Harris's blue eyes and rolled my window down.

  “Tell them your car will be here waiting for them, but you’re coming with me.”

  I put my hand over the speaker and shook my head. “I can’t do that, Harris. What are you even doing here?”

  “It’s cold, lassie, and I was in London for business.” He shook his head at me and put his hand into my car. “You can get bossy with me later, but I’m not letting you freeze. So give me the phone.”

  I blinked. No one had ever spoken to me like that.

  He stood taller and said, “Hello, please pick up the car. The woman is coming with me, but I wanted you to have my number so that we can discuss what needs repairs.”

  I gazed down his muscular body and wished he’d worn his kilt, though it was too cold for it. The last thing I needed, though, was a man spending my money without giving me the final say. I yelled, “Don’t! It’s my problem.”

  “It’s mine now too.” Into the phone, he said, “So call me with the estimates for the fix.”

  Wait. He intends to pay. I opened my car door and jumped out. He’d already hung up.

  I crossed my arms and hugged myself, as I wasn’t sure how to argue. “I shouldn’t, Harris.”

  He gave me my phone and pointed at his silver Aston Martin. “I’m assuming you’re on your way to Bath.”

  I’d not seen him for a while, since a friend’s wedding the previous month. He’d checked on me weekly and said he’d been out of town, but the phone calls had only fed into my fantasies of having a decent guy in my life. I pushed my shoulder-length hair behind my ears. “I was.”

  He pressed the button to unlock his car and
said, “Then get in. We’re both going to the same place.”

  The universe had answered me. I opened my back door to get my bag, but then he took it to carry it for me. Harris was tall and muscular and looked manly in a kilt, and that day, he was my hero.

  We put my hazards on and pushed the car to the side so no one ran into it. Once we finished, I walked next to him. I asked, “Why are you going to Bath? The Jane Austen Christmas Tea?”

  He held my door for me. “Yes, of course. Don’t look so flummoxed. Logan and Charlie will be there with their women, and we have business interests to discuss.”

  “I see.” My heart hoped he was going for me, too, but I would never say that out loud.

  He closed my door, and the heat of his car made my dry skin hurt. I reached out and let my hands thaw out as he put my stuff in his trunk.

  Harris opened his door, and I looked up, licking my lips, and said, “Well, it turns out you're my guardian angel.”

  He jumped into his seat and said, “No one would call me an angel.”

  I laughed. My day had been like a giant slap in the face, and laughing felt good. I sighed and said, “I suppose no one would.”

  He chuckled as we drove down the snowy road together. Then he said, “I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

  Hot Harris had been a guest at both weddings I’d attended lately, and I’d been a busy bridesmaid, but both times, he’d twirled me around the dance floor. Otherwise, I knew nothing about him, other than he’d heard I was by myself and called to check in. On the phone, he’d been nice.

  I turned on my seat’s heater to warm my bottom. “Really? I’m a total disaster. I just lost my job, I can’t afford to fix my car, and I’m probably going to have to return to America soon to live in the extra bedroom of my father’s trailer or in a hotel until they kick me out.”