My Enemy, My Earl
Author: Tammy Andresen
Date: 2018-01-02 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance
Description: Can two wounded souls find love? Fleeing London, and scandal, Lady Clarissa Burton runs directly into the wife-hunting Earl of Dumfries while traveling on a rutted Scottish road. She wanted peace in Scotland, not a tall and brooding laird who makes her forget that handsome lords are nothing but trouble. Having spent years of his life fighting English wars, Ewan McDougal, Earl of Dumfries, wants nothing to do with England, or its people, for as long as he lives. He wants a nice Scottish lass to warm his bed and raise a family. So why can't Ewan stop thinking about Lady Clarissa's pouty lips or

Table of Contents

- 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
- Chapter 20
- Epilogue

My Enemy, My Earl

A Laird to Love Book 1

Tammy Andresen

USA Today Bestselling Author

Copyright © 2017 by Tammy Andresen

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

Contents

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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

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Heart of a Highlander

Other Titles by Tammy

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Chapter 1

Lord Ewan McDougal, Earl of Dumfries, took a deep breath of Scottish air as he trotted down the rutted road toward Kirkcaldy. It was so good to be back in his home country. Even with the misting rain, the fresh smell of spring flowers lifted his spirits. With any luck, he’d never step foot on soil that wasn’t Scottish again.

He doubted he’d ever have need to traipse over Europe or Asia after the war, so there was no real danger there, but England was another matter entirely. A Scot could get sucked onto English land despite his best intentions not to. And he had no intention of ever touching that country again.

Or any of its people, for that matter.

“Do ye think we’ll be able to stop soon? I’m peckish.” Keiran McKenna grumbled next to him.

Ewan glared at his longtime companion and friend. They’d grown up together on neighboring parcels of land, had been drafted together, and had returned changed together. Keiran was like his tartan, he was rarely seen without the other man. “We just ate.”

“Aye, but it’s raining.” Keiran looked as though his point ought to have been obvious.

“So what?” Ewan gave him a look of bewilderment. “It’s Scotland. It’s always raining.”

“After years of being cold and hungry, I’ve no tolerance for either.” Keiran shrugged.

It was difficult to argue with that. There were a lot of things he had no tolerance for after years of war. Loud noises near stole his sanity. He couldn’t stand the English, for example, who’d drafted him in the first place. And his ruined land, bare after five years of neglect. That drove him mad but at least his land he could repair. That was why he needed to get to Kirkaldy. From there it was a short ride to third cousin, Hamish McDougal’s castle. “You know I’ve got a bride to meet.”

“Will she marry someone else if it takes an extra day?” Keiran wagged his eyebrows. “Besides, you know you’re devilish handsome. She’ll likely fall right into yer arms.”

Keiran wasn’t wrong. Women had long given him attention. Though Keiran was the more classically handsome man with his straight nose and piercing eyes, Ewan had always had a masculine look to which women responded. “It’s not that. You ken as well as anyone my land is in shambles. I need to marry to put it back together. Winter is comin’.”

“It’s only spring.” Keiran winked. “But I know ye be wantin’ a lovely little Scottish lass with a nice full…dowry.”

Ewan tried not growl at his friend’s crass words. Although they were at least partly true. Fiona, his perspective bride, did come with a dowry and that coin would be verra helpful in repairing his lands. Fiona was a strong Scot woman, which would also come in handy.

They’d last seen each other ten years before, when she was but a child. She’d had a penchant for practical jokes, which had near driven him mad, but surely she’d grown out of that by now.

Up ahead he spotted a carriage stopped and tilting precariously to one side. The driver was down on his knees in the muck attempting to repair the wheel. Poor sod.

Next to him stood a hooded figure with flowing skirts that had been sucked into the muck. He grimaced. The side of the road was no place for any lass to be. Especially not on a day like this.

“I’m all for helpin’ women in need but it’s rainin’ harder still. We should keep movin’.” Keiran frowned more deeply. “Ye’re not going to stop are ye?”

The question did not dignify an answer. Dismounting, he led his horse toward the stranded travelers. As a soldier, he’d learned it was less intimidating when he approached on foot. Especially considering his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He frightened on horseback.

The driver looked up with a wary eye but Ewan offered him a smile. “Is it help ye be needin’?”

“Aye, that’d be right nice.” The driver nodded.

“You can go back in the carriage if ye like, lass.” Ewan gave her what he hoped was an sympathetic smile but he heard her huff her breath almost like it annoyed her that he’d said it.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay,” she answered from under the hood, annoyance lacing her lilting voice.

Never mind that he admired a woman with enough pluck to stand out in the rain to fix a wheel. Something Keiran wasn’t willing to do, apparently. Or that she stayed even when she didn’t have to.

Her accent was English.

“Dinna trouble yerself, lass.” The driver reached out to pat her like a child.

Ewan nodded his agreement. “I know an English woman like yerself doesn’t do this kind of thing normally.”

“How would you know what I can or can’t do?”

He could just see her mouth below the edge of the hood. Perfect, full pink lips turned down into a frown.

Why had he thought words like perfect and full when he should be thinking ones like conniving and wretched? Wasn’t that what all the English were? Everyone he’d met when abroad at war certainly had been. Pushing the Scots to the front of the line to die in droves.

He was tempted to climb on his horse and keep riding. Keiran would be happy, anyway. Because he was not here to help the English. “An English miss fixing a wheel?”

He heard her hiss of breath. “Why not?”

Because the English are arrogant and entitled while still managing to be useless, because…

He knew he must be glaring at that remark and so, instead of answering, he turned away and looked at the wheel. The driver had a few broken spokes.

“I don’t dare drive on a road this rutted with the wheel compromised and I always keep some extras. But I can’t quite get them in. Lady Clarissa was attempting to help me, which was greatly appreciated, but we’re not strong enough, the two of us. Your arms might just do the trick.” The driver gave him a wink.

“Brawny men are good for something, I suppose,” she mumbled in her haughty English accent that managed to make his strength and size sound like a detriment. His frown deepened. Worse than the insult, she was a lady. An unmarried one at that. He’d have to be careful not to give his own title or risk being hunted.

English ladies were always after unmarried titles. I didn’t seem to matter whether the man was honorable, rich, or kind, as long as he was titled.

He wasn’t just given to making false claims. It had actually been his experience. The ladies of London hadn’t paid him a lick of attention, well not that kind of attention, until he’d been awarded a title for his service. Then he’d been relentlessly pursued by young misses and their mamas. It had been an eye-opening experience that had made his ache for his own country even greater.

“What is wrong with brawny men? Ye seem to be needin’ one right about now.” He knew it didn’t matter what she thought, but something about this woman was getting under his skin. He knelt down and the spokes popped easily into place. From this vantage point, he could see more of her face. Creamy skin and a pert little nose peeked out from under the hood.

“They are often dim-witted and miraculously full of themselves,” she huffed.

He stood, now covered in a fair bit of mud himself. He was used to women blushing and smiling at him. Complimenting his strength, not insulting it. He brushed his dark, overlong hair behind his ears and looked at the English lass. “And English misses often think they ken everythin’ about everythin’. You don’t ken a thing about me.”

Part of him wanted to tell her he was an Earl as well as a decorated war hero. She should be falling at his feet not frowning at him. But he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t care what this woman thought of him.

She, in turn, stared fixedly at him. Though the hood covered them, he could feel her eyes on him and it made his insides tighten in the strangest way. Near nervous or excited. When was the last time a woman had affected him so?

“I know your type, can’t even take the time to shave your face or lace your shirt,” she bit back, her hand coming to her hip. It parted the opening of her cape and revealed part of her rather luscious bosom. He sucked in his breath.

He should get on his horse and go. But, if he were honest, she was damn interesting. Like a sharp-tongued beautiful fairy or a...he stopped his train of thought. What the bloody hell was he thinking?

The door popped open and a pretty, petite blond stuck her head out. She was a curvy woman who would make some man happy, but her face still held the innocence of a lass, not acquainted with the world. In a single look, he liked her immensely. She gave him a sweet smile then turned to the lady. “Did they fix it, Clarissa?”

Slowly, delicate hands rose to the rim of the hood. Brushing back the folds, her deep, glossy, dark brown tresses tumbled in a lose coif down her back.

Large grey-blue eyes looked at him with a vulnerability that near made him ache in places he’d thought long dead. Her expression was in stark contrast to her hissing words. As were her pink cheeks and plump sweet lips, which seem to tremble slightly as though she were nervous or afraid. Likely she was only cold, but some part of him wanted to shield her from whatever made them shake.

“They did.” Her voice was like honey, smooth and sweet unlike when she’d spoken to him.

His eyes locked with hers. That was how the English trapped a Scot. Pretty and seemingly harmless, a man didn’t even see them stealing his future ‘til it was too late.

* * *

Clarissa assessed the Scottish brute in front of her. She didn’t like him. Not even a little. It didn’t matter that he had brawny muscles and piercing green eyes. Or that he stopped to help stranded travelers.

First, there was the fact that he’d insulted her English roots. She wouldn’t even bother to tell him she was half Scot. Then there was the careless way his shirt was untied at the top, his overlong dark hair, his casual stance with one hand slung low on his hip to accentuate how much smaller they were than his broad chest. His red tartan exposed his knees in an altogether indecent way. His face had a rugged set, with his Roman nose and prominent cheekbones. Men that handsome were always up to no good. Past experience had taught her this and it was a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.

His strong jaw flexed as he gave her an assessing look. His interest was written all over his face. As if she’d needed more proof that he was a rake. She’d learn to spot the type anywhere, and now that she knew them, she vowed to stay far, far away.

But she supposed some measure of gratitude was in order. Trying to keep her disdain out of her voice, she mumbled, “Thank you for helping us, sir.” She gave a small curtsey and then started shaking out her skirt in an attempt to remove some of the mud before climbing back into the carriage. Fortunately, their exchange was nearly over.

“Ye’re welcome,” he answered in a deep rich brogue before stepping closer.

Without another word he reached for her skirt and she straightened, stiffening from shock. He wasn’t going to…he wouldn’t dare…but he did. He knelt down beside her and grabbed her skirt, and holding it out, began deftly removing the mud. “Sir,” she gasped.

“It’s Ewan. Ewan McDougal. Now turn.” His gruff words weren’t frightening. But her breathing was coming out in short gasps. The heat from his body had her own growing warmer. He started working on a new section of gown.

She stared at him unable to believe this was actually happening. As he spun her again, her foot hit a rut in the road and she bobbled, just a little. His hand shot out to her hip to steady her. An ache deep inside her throbbed at his touch. She gasped, her hands coming to his shoulders to right the now-tilting world. But that only made it worse. They were broad and muscular and for moment, she had the feeling they could shield her from the world. “Please stop,” she begged.

“It’s raining, ye ken?” He looked up at her as though she were dull in the mind.

“I am aware.” She tried to straighten her shoulders but the rain was worsening and they hunched back down without permission, curled closer to him and the warmth he exuded.

“Then turn around so that I can git the back.” He gave her skirt a little tug to turn her.

Huffing, she turned, his brisk words bringing her to her senses. Agnes stared at her openmouthed as he worked off the mud. Fortunately, no one else was here to see this, though she hardly had any reputation left to preserve, so it wouldn’t really have mattered.

Looking down, she had to admit he had done an admirable job of removing the muck. She would be warmer for it on this last leg of the journey. “Thank you,” she murmured over her shoulder. Only a rake would touch her so but at least she would be more comfortable for his efforts.

He stood and nodded. “Get yerself in that carriage now before ye catch yer death. Scotland is a lot colder than ye’re likely used to.”

How did he make that sound like an insult? Not that it mattered, it didn’t a wit. She’d likely never see him again, and good riddance. “How could you possibly know what I am used to?”

Without another word, she climbed into the carriage and snapped the door shut.

“Who was that?” Agnes bounced a little on her seat. Agnes was her cousin from her father’s side and her travelling companion on this journey along with Agnes’s mother, Mrs. Judith Faulkenberry. Her parents would have accompanied her but she hadn’t wanted them to. Closing her eyes, she pushed angry thoughts of them away. She’d be with her Scottish relatives soon, and Agnes and Aunt Judith were the best possible company.

Her father’s sister was a proper English lady from her perfectly coiffed grey hair to her never-wrinkled gown. Agnes’ enthusiasm wore her out. Though her cousin was about to turn eighteen, she flitted like a butterfly everywhere she went.

Aunt Judith had used the time while they were fixing the wheel and not bouncing about, to take a short rest. But Agnes’s enthusiasm had roused the woman. “Do stop, dear,” she mumbled to Agnes.

Clarissa rolled her eyes, trying to exude a casualness she didn’t feel. “I don’t know, some Scot.” She didn’t want them to know that the man’s touch had sent her world tilting wildly.

“You should have seen him brushing off her skirts, Mother. And his name was Ewan,” she imitated his deep voice. “Ewan McDougal.” Then she tapped her chin. “Say, you don’t think he’s related to your mother, do you?”

“Probably. Some distant cousin. But there are likely a thousand of them.” She waved her hand, brushing the unpleasant thought away that she might have to see him again. Because she never wanted to see those broad shoulders and green eyes as long as she lived.

“He brushed your skirts?” her aunt repeated, sitting straighter in her seat.

“He was being a gentleman, Mother. Helping with the mud.” Agnes nodded.

Clarissa didn’t respond but she thought it was unlikely to have been an act of chivalry. More probably he was just exercising his rakish ways touching her like that.

She shook her skirts out around her to aid in their drying. “We’re likely never to see him again so let us not dwell on it. He did manage to fix the wheel so we’ll be out of this carriage—”

“And into a drafty old castle—” Aunt Judith huffed.

“In no time.” Clarissa finished.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” Agnes clapped looking excited. They’d spent most of their time in the country so Agnes was constantly seeking adventure.

“Why would you even ask that?” Aunt Judith sniffed. She straightened her already smooth skirt.

But Clarissa held back a grin. Agnes’s enthusiasm and zest had carried her through the past month and she loved her cousin for it. It wasn’t the ideal temperament for a lady of London, but as a friend, it was divine.

“We’ll ask Fiona, Emilia, and Ainsley.” Clarissa smiled. “I bet they’ll help us hunt.”

“Clarissa, don’t encourage her.” Aunt Judith crossed her arms.

“How fun.” Agnes gave her a winning grin that lit her face in the most beautiful way. Already an attractive girl, she radiated happiness.

Clarissa was looking forward to visiting her mother’s family too. But not for ghost hunts. This place had always been her safe haven, her cousins were people with whom she could be herself. She needed that now.

Leaning her head against the frame of the carriage, she glanced through the shutters. The carriage lurched forward, finally moving again. She could see the brawny Scot, Ewan McDougal, riding alongside the other man, who had stayed on horseback. He looked devilishly good. Another reason to despise rakes. Their handsome charm masked a devious heart.

Chapter 2

“Those were some bonnie lasses.” Keiran grinned over at him.

He grimaced. They had been indeed, which was not a fact to which he should have been paying attention. He disliked all things English, even pretty ladies. “I’m sure you made a right fair impression by staying on your horse. We’re Scot and we come to the aid of those in need, unlike our southerly neighbors.” He gave Keiran a scathing look. “And they’re not even lasses. They’re English.”

“All young women are lasses, in my opinion. And therefore fair game when we’re admiring pretty faces.” Keiran winked at him. “You noticed too. Don’t deny it. I saw ye brushin’ off the one’s skirts. Right bonnie lass that one.”

“I was not admiring her pretty face.” He absolutely had been. Try as he might not to notice what a bonnie lass she was, he had done just that. “I did like her pluck though. Trying to help fix the wheel in the rain. Could almost mistake her for a Scottish lass, doin’ something like that.”

“You’re lyin’. I saw ye lookin’ at her.” Keiran gave him a broad grin.

“Ye were behind me. How could ye have seen me lookin’?”

“Yer head never moved. Trained right at her.” Keiran gave a loud chuckle.

“What do ye know anyway?” Ewan huffed. “I’m going to meet my bride.”

“Ye’re goin’ to meet a prospective bride. There is a big difference. Don’t be confusin’ the two.” Keiran wagged his finger. “This is why you brought me. Help you keep your head. If Fiona McDougal isn’t right for you, you keep lookin’.”

Ewan sighed. Keiran was right. But if Keiran was tired in body after the war, wanting to be tucked in an ale house, Ewan was tired in spirit. He wanted to be settled with some pretty lass and make wee bairns and farm his land.

Not that he’d ever had a problem with female attention. But he didn’t want just a pretty face or a woman looking for a title because his land required real work. He needed a woman with pluck.

The thought stopped him dead because he’d just thought that about that English lass, Lady Clarissa. And she wasn’t at all what he was looking for. Well, if she were Scottish, she’d be exactly what he was looking for. But she wasn’t and so he wasn’t interested at all. Not even though she was beautiful, and spoke her mind, and stood up for herself.

He didn’t answer as they came up to a roadside inn. He’d likely have ridden on past but Keiran seemed determined to make this journey as long as possible. So they tied their horses to the hitching post and stepped inside.

They were ushered to a private salon. It was warm with a crackling fire and a window overlooking the street.

When Keiran ordered a scotch, Ewan gave him a sharp look. “If we pushed we could make it to Castle Ravenscraig by tonight.”

Keiran scrunched up his face. “We’ve only a few hours left on the journey, I asked the innkeeper.” Keiran scratched the three days’ worth of growth on the chin. “We can make the last part of the trip tomorrow.”

“If it’s only a few hours we can set out as soon as the rain slows—”

“Don’t get your knickers twisted.” Keiran chuckled.

“I don’t wear knickers, in case ye hadn’t noticed.” Ewan scowled.

“I just like the sayin’.” Keiran leaned toward him. “You look like shite, and you should clean yerself up if ye want to make a good impression.”

Ewan’s frown deepened. Is that what she’d meant about his face and his shirt? He looked down and realized he might look rather like a highwayman instead of a lord. Keiran had a point, much as he hated to admit it. If he were meeting a bride, he should look the part. He’d stay.

A movement out the window caught his eye. Lady Clarissa’s carriage rumbled past.

He’d stay the night, clean himself up before he went on. But as he watched the carriage roll out of sight, a vision of chocolate brown hair cascading around him ravaged his thoughts. He had to put that English lass out his mind and focus on his plan to marry a proper Scottish bride.

* * *

Her breath caught when Clarissa saw his horse tied out at the inn, and then she frowned.

Agnes noticed too. “Oh, there is our rescuer.” She patted her hair with her hands putting invisible strands back into place. “So dashing and handsome. Wasn’t he handsome, Clarissa?”

She kept her eyes trained out the window. “I hadn’t noticed.” She’d more than noticed. Just the thought of him made her pulse race. But a man who was so obviously devilish must be avoided at all costs.

“Now the other one…Mama, you wouldn’t believe it. He just stayed on his horse. Didn’t do a thing to help.” Agnes sniffed. “Ne’er do well, if you ask me.”

Clarissa turned then. “And you thought Mr. McDougal wasn’t?”

“He rescued us.” Agnes tipped her head to the side, assessing Clarissa.

She turned her eyes back to the road. “He changed a spoke on a wheel. He didn’t pluck one of us from a runaway horse.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “Everything from his scruffy beard to his too-proud stance to the way he brushed off my skirt spoke of a man who is anything but a gentleman.”

Agnes was quiet for a moment and then said, “Well, he was looking at you rather intently.”

“Oh dear.” Aunt Judith finally spoke, looking slightly distraught. “Let’s discuss something else. We’re likely never to see either man again.”’ With that she tilted her head back for another rest.

Silence was fine with Clarissa. She leaned back on her seat as well. By tonight she’d be safely tucked in at her uncle’s castle, all four of her cousins clustered around her. She didn’t know how long she’d stay but she had no plans to return to London anytime in the near future. Agnes would not come out to society for almost a year and even then, Clarissa could stay in Scotland if she chose.

The carriage rumbled on for several more hours, and Clarissa drifted into a restless sleep until the carriage came to a stop.

Peeking out the window, her Uncle Haggis’s castle loomed before her. A smile split her face at the sight. To her, this was coming home.

Sweeping into the large entry, Clarissa grinned as she took in the ancient tapestries and the stonework. This was home. Agnes and Aunt Judith were just behind her and she could hear them gasp at the sights.

Uncle Haggis was the first to make an appearance. “Ye made it.” His voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls.

“I made it,” she breathed, rushing forward to give him a hug.

Soon her Aunt Rhona and cousins, Fiona, Emilia, and Ainsley, were hustling in from varied activities to greet them.

“You’re finally here,” Fiona beamed grabbing her hands and pulling her arms out to her sides to assess how she looked. “You don’t look too damaged by those Sassenach.” Funny, early this morning she’d been accused of being a Sassenach, though Ewan McDougal had had the decency to just call her English.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Ainsley, the youngest sister asked. She was always stirring up trouble in a way Clarissa loved. Except for when Ainsley was asking pointed questions about the most humiliating moment of Clarissa’s life.

“Of course she isn’t,” Emilia gave her a wink. “Not until she’s ready.” She was the quietest of the three and often the most sensible. In this moment, Clarissa loved her for it.

Happiness washed through her as all four of her cousins hugged her at once. Then she reached back and took Agnes’s hand. “This is my other cousin, Agnes. You’re going to adore her.” And she pulled Agnes into the embrace.

“How darling,” Aunt Judith gushed behind them. “Haggis, lovely to see you again.”

“Aye, ye too, Judith. It’s been a long time.” He walked over to embrace her. Aunt Judith’s face pinched in disapproval but Uncle Haggis paid it no mind. Clarissa tried to hide her own smile. She adored her Scottish family’s more casual use of affection. Always had. She’d often wondered how her mother had survived a marriage with a stiff English lord. But her mother was affectionate enough for both of them, she supposed.

“How is my sister?” Uncle Haggis boomed, pulling Clarissa away from her cousins into his own embrace.

Their affection was like a balm, soothing away her heart’s aches. His barrel chest a safe haven as she hugged him back. It was as though some of the pieces of her heart fit back together. “She is well, sorry she couldn’t join us.”

“Taking care of your father, I suppose.” Uncle Haggis’s voice held a note of disapproval. It mirrored Clarissa’s own feeling, but that was absurd. He was her father, after all.

Aunt Rhona clucked her tongue. “Let me hug the child.” She pushed past Uncle Haggis. “And don’t you start in on her father already.

“It’s a fine mess he’s landed her in, don’t think I don’t know it.”

“Uncle Haggis, could we not speak of it, please? I’m…” She paused, taking a breath, “I’m not ready.”

“Fine,” he bellowed again. “Get yourself settled and fed and then we’ll celebrate tonight before the arrival of the rest of our guests.”

“Guests? What guests?” she asked, a sort of tingling starting in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to see anyone other than her family. That she was sure of.

“Fiona has a suitor.” Ainsley gave an impish grin. “An Earl from Dumfries. He was in the English army and got a title because of his bravery.” The younger girl danced a jig. “Doesn’t it sound romantic?”

Clarissa’s stomach nearly dropped. She was going to watch her cousin be courted? Of course, Fiona was at the age, just like herself, but she’d hoped to see no men, other than Uncle Haggis, on this trip. Perhaps forever.

Fiona scrunched up her face. “What is romantic about war? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ainsley only danced faster. “She’s met him before and they didn’t get on very well—”

“We were children.” Fiona’s hands shot to her hips, bright red patches forming on her cheeks.

“When...when does he arrive?” She hid her hands in the folds of her skirt to hide the fists that had formed.

“Tomorrow, if the weather held on the journey,” Emilia responded quietly. Always demure her tone was soothing. But her eyes studied Clarissa intently. Clarissa tried to relax the lines of her face.

Giving them a weak smile, she said, “My trunks must have been brought up. My dress got atrociously muddy, I’ll just see to it.”

She hurried up the stairs but not before she heard Ainsley say, “Poor thing.”

Agnes agreed. “It really is terrible.”

They weren’t wrong. Being humiliated in front of all of society by a known rake truly was awful.

Chapter 3

The next morning Clarissa stood in a sitting room, just off the main entry, dressed in her finest wool gown, awaiting the arrival of the Earl from Dumfries. It wasn’t that she cared to impress, it was required of the occasion. She hadn’t asked anything else about him and her cousins hadn’t offered any more detail. Thankfully. So she sat silently waiting for the exact type of event she had been hoping to avoid coming to Scotland—socializing with eligible men.

She wasn’t the only one who stoically waited. Normally, Fiona was the fearless leader of the group. Not only did she love adventure but her favorite pastime was pranks of any kind. She drove Clarissa mad at times, but she loved her like a sister. Her eldest cousin was unusually quiet today, so Ainsley took advantage of the silence to regale them with tales of runaway sheep and handsome boys from the village who saved them. At fifteen, Ainsley had discovered the virtues of the male species.

Clarissa remained silent, though a piece of her desperately wanted to warn the girl about the heartache men almost always brought. Especially the handsome ones.

Two figures appeared down the long drive and Fiona shot to her feet, her skin growing paler under her freckles. “I don’t want to do this,” she mumbled.

Clarissa reached out her hand and Fiona took it. Uncle Haggis’s voice boomed from the hall. “The gaggle of women currently in the sitting room needs to join me on the front steps.”

Fiona and Clarissa were last to leave the sanctuary of the sitting room. Her aunts had followed Uncle Haggis out onto the drive. Still holding hands, she and Fiona stepped onto the wide stone steps. Uncle Haggis gestured for them to move so that they all stood in a line of greeting.

Taking a deep breath, Clarissa closed her eyes. She needn’t be nervous, it wasn’t her fate that was in question now, but her heart ached for her cousin. Meeting a man whom she might spend the rest of her life with. It was almost absurd, really.

When her eyes fluttered open, she looked first at Fiona, whose skin had turned a putrid shade of white, then to the riders.

Green eyes penetrated into her from atop his horse. Ewan McDougal. His hair was still devilishly long, but his face was now clean-shaven. Her stomach flipped in the most curious sensation, which she told herself was dread.

Her eyes flicked to his companion. He must be the earl. No wonder he hadn’t gotten down from his horse to help. Now she would be stuck in this castle with those broad shoulders and rakish hips and… She forced herself to stop. She disliked everything about this man.

She’d have to warn Fiona about the type of rake her earl kept company with.

Stopping just short of the steps, they handed off their reins to a groom. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Uncle Haggis called.

“And you as well.” Ewan gave a warm grin. The kind that made her insides twist again. “This is Captain Keiran McKenna, Laird of McKenna.”

Clarissa scrunched her face in confusion; he hadn’t said that Laird McKenna was an earl? How curious because…

“Lord Dumfries, you remember my daughter, Miss Fiona McDougal, Maid of Ravenscraig.”

Her confusion vanished in a haze of anger. He was the earl, though he hadn’t introduced himself as Lord Dumfries. Instead, he’d given his common name. Probably misleading her for nefarious reasons. The same ones that had caused him to stare at her so intently and touch her in such a familiar way. All the while he was travelling to court her cousin. Ewan McDougal was a first-rate lout.

* * *

Ewan watched her face turn several shades of pink as her uncertainty disappeared and open hostility took its place.

It had also taken him by surprise to find the little English pixie he’d spent the night dreaming about here at Ravenscraig Castle. Haggis’ sister had married some English lord. She was likely the product of that union.

But try as he might, he could not ascertain what he might have done or said to offend her so because she looked near livid.

He knew why he disliked her. English and haughty, with her nose currently in the air, she was nothing like the Scottish lass he hoped to marry.

“My Lord,” Fiona dipped into a bow and his eyes flitted over to the woman to whom he should be paying attention. She was exactly what he’d been telling himself he wanted and the lass looked just as he remembered her. Flying red hair blowing in the ocean breeze, despite obvious attempts to tame it, topped her freckled face. She was lovely and there was a kindness about her features that was pleasing to a man’s soul. Ewan should welcome her into his home and his life, but as he bowed, his gaze was drawn to Clarissa, sparkling in the morning sun next to her. His insides tightened dangerously.

In a beautiful pale pink wool gown, he could see her perfect hourglass shape, petite yet curvy in all the right places. Her glossy hair even brighter and her face somehow more vulnerable in her indignation at his identity.

Haggis McDougal continued the introductions. When he reached Lady Clarissa, she held up her hand. “We’ve met.” Her reply was short, dripping with open disdain.

“Did ye now?” Haggis’s bushy eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Where would that be?”

Ewan cleared his throat. “Their carriage was in need of repair on the road to Kirkcaldy. I stopped to aid them.”

Ewan would have thought that Haggis’s eyebrows couldn’t rise any higher but then one of them did. It scanned Clarissa’s rigid face and then swung back to Ewan. “Ye fixed their carriage?”

“Yes,” Ewan shrugged as he spoke, his hands coming up. She clearly didn’t like him, although he could not understand why. He found her damn interesting, that is to say, he would have found her to be interesting if she weren’t English.

Ushering everyone inside, Haggis led them to another drawing room. Ewan looked back to see Clarissa and Fiona clasping hands as they walked. He closed his eyes for a second. Somehow that seemed to be an omen of bad luck to come. While he hadn’t done a thing to either of them, he had the suspicion they were conspiring against him. He’d likely made this trip for nothing.

Once again he could blame the blasted English.

Taking a breath, Ewan tried to focus. Entering the drawing room, everyone began taking seats and Clarissa and Fiona sat together, leaving no room for anyone else.

He chose a seat across from them both, attempting to focus on Fiona. He’d ask her a question. Women liked that. Though admittedly, his skills in wooing women had dwindled significantly in the past ten years. “How have ye fared?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Since last I saw you?”

“Well, yes, I suppose.” He sensed trouble brewing. He should have practiced before arriving. Spending all his time with soldiers, he’d forgotten how to talk with fair maids.

“Well, good, poor, happy, sad….it has been nearly half me life since I saw ye last.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Clarissa hid a smile behind her gloved hand, clearly celebrating her cousin’s victory. He clenched his jaw. They were in league against him. Lady Clarissa was likely at the heart of it.

“And you, Lord Dumfries?” A teasing smile played on Fiona’s lips. It was the same one she wore when she’d put frogs in his bed when she’d visited as a child. He knew to be wary of that smile.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Of the ten years since we met, I spent eight of them in service to the British Armed forces and the last two at war in India. So I have had less, well and happy and a lot more poor and sad.”

The smile disappeared, embarrassment creasing her brow. “Of course, Lord Dumfries. Forgive my inconsiderate question.”

He gave a terse nod, but already he felt like a heel for saying such things. This was going all wrong.

Ainsley bounced in her seat, her excitement palpable. “What was it like, being on the battlefield?”

Keiran spared him answering, thank the saints. “Mostly wet and cold when it wasn’t scorching hot. Dreadful business.”

Smartly, Keiran had left out, terrifying and maddeningly grotesque. Keiran had been correct yesterday. Ewan needed his friend here.

Agnes gave him a curious look. “Is that why you didn’t help us with our wheel? You don’t like being wet anymore?”

Ewan bit back the smile at Keiran’s red cheeks. His friend’s normally strong jaw tucked into his chest in embarrassment. Ewan wasn’t the only one floundering now. There was nothing like a pretty little miss to make a man remember what was important in life.

“Agnes,” her mother chastised from the other side of the room.

But Agnes turned to Ewan, beaming at him. “Thank you again, my Lord, for your help.”

Ewan gave a nod of acceptance, “Ye’re welcome.” He returned her smile, glad to have at least one female ally. His shoulders relaxed by some small measure.

Two servants entered carrying trays of tea and cakes. Keiran jumped up gleefully. How that man stayed so trim, he had no idea. He nearly sighed with relief, eating meant a break from this conversation.

As tea was poured, he found himself glancing at Clarissa once again. She caught him staring and he nearly cursed aloud. He was going to make a fool of himself even more than he already had. He’d have to ask her something now. “Lady Clarissa,” he cleared his throat, “what brings you to Scotland?” He needed a reminder that she was English. He hated the English. They talked of a unified country but mostly they used the Scots and their resources for English gain. He was here for a Scottish bride, not another English trouncing.

A moment of horror, then anger, followed by shame, crossed her terribly expressive face. Every emotion played out on her features. “I…uh…I wanted to visit my family.” She answered quietly, all the fire gone from her voice. He’d clearly struck a chord because she’d been nothing but haughty since they’d met.

What caused her so much distress? “I understand that. I missed me land and family more than I can say while I was gone.”

She gave a nod and relief clearly made her relax. What didn’t she want to discuss?

Keiran swallowed a giant bite of cake. “I thought everyone who was anyone in England went to London for the season?”

And just like that she tensed again. Every muscle tightened and her face pinched as though she was in pain as she struggled to formulate an answer. “I…that is to say…I was…I…”

Curiosity and sympathy warred within him as he watched her struggle. He couldn’t fathom why he cared, but he couldn’t leave her dangling either. Just like yesterday with the carriage, he couldn’t abandon her to try to fix this on her own. “We were in London at this time last year on our return trip from India. ‘Tis an amazing time of year to be in that city, if ye like that sort of thing.” He gave her a pleasant smile. “Glittering gowns and balls till dawn.” Then he shrugged. “I found it a wee bit exhausting.”

Agnes and Ainsley both leaned forward in their excitement at his words but Clarissa’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I didn’t find that it suited me all that much either.” Her face was pale but her eyes grateful.

“I understand,” he answered as kindly as he could. “I prefer the quiet of my home.” His tongue itched to ask her more. Why she didn’t want to be in London. She was a mystery he was so tempted to unravel. Why did she seem so immune to his charms? Why didn’t she like London?

She gave him a curious look as though she didn’t quite believe him.

Fiona cleared her throat. Her hand reaching for her cousin’s once again in an almost protective gesture. Then she turned to him, giving him a bright smile. “You went overland for this trip rather than by sea. Why lengthen the journey?”

He had the distinct impression Fiona was changing the subject on purpose. She was also protecting Clarissa, but why? “Aye. I love the sea, but spring in Scotland is a sight my eyes missed.”

“We should go riding tomorrow,” Emilia suggested, speaking for the first time. “We can ride inland toward the loch of Kirkcaldy.”

Several younger members of the party nodded their agreement and he smiled to himself. No one beat a Scot on a horse. He was sure this was Fiona’s place to shine. Because he wanted a Scot bride, not a prickly Sassenach with big grey blue eyes that cried out to him for comfort.

Tomorrow would be the day he put Lady Clarissa out of his mind and focused on a proper Scottish lass.

Chapter 4

Clarissa was not going riding. She sat in the breakfast salon assessing her four cousins. Uncle Haggis had his paper up, ignoring the conversation. Her aunts sipped their tea.

“First of all, I don’t like it all that much. Second, I don’t want to spend time socializing, except of course with the four of you, and third—”

Ainsley cut her words off. “But the four of us will all be there and you’ll be here by yourself.”

“I am truly fine with that. Alone time is what I need—”

“You need a distraction,” Emilia nodded. “The less you think, the less you’ll remember.”

“Besides,” Fiona added. “I’ve the perfect horse for a novice rider.”

Clarissa’s eyes narrowed. She loved Fiona but her cousin could be a real menace if she scented an opportunity to play a trick. There was nothing her cousin loved better.

“Please, Clarissa? I don’t want to go without you,” Agnes begged from her right.

The last plea was her undoing. She couldn’t deny Agnes anything. “Very well,” she sighed. “But no tricks with the horse, Fiona.”

Fiona gave her a feline grin and Clarissa cringed. She was going to regret her decision. She was about to give Fiona another warning when Ewan and Keiran came striding into the breakfast room. Her words died on her tongue as Ewan’s green eyes captured hers and that wave of sickening butterflies filled her stomach.

He was altogether too disconcerting. Here to court her cousin, his eyes strayed to her far too often. Though she had to admit that he’d saved her during their discussion at tea yesterday and on the roadside. While he had some gentlemanly tendencies, it didn’t make him less a rake. He was obvious in interest of her even while being a potential bridegroom to Fiona. After what had happened to her, she had no use for a man like that.

She turned away. “Fiona,” she whispered. “Are you considering Lord Dumfries?”

“Da is considering him.” Fiona shrugged. “I am far less certain.”

“I agree. He appears to be a first-class rake to me.” Clarissa gave a nod.

Fiona rolled her eyes. Her trepidation the day before had vanished like the mist. It was so like Fiona. Clarissa had a much harder time shaking off her feelings.

“Do not be ridiculous. He’s not a rake, just a bore.” Fiona’s words came out in a rush. “I want a man that makes me sing with life. Not one that wants quiet country strolls.”

Clarissa’s head snapped back. Her cousin didn’t understand. She hadn’t seen the sorts of things that Clarissa had. She vowed to speak with her cousin again soon on the matter.

Ewan cleared his throat as he sat in the empty chair next to her. She tried to keep the rolling waves in her stomach at bay. “Pleasant mornin’ to ye,” he said softly.

“Boring,” Fiona whispered in her other ear.

Clarissa couldn’t help it, her lips twitched into a smile. “Indeed, the sunshine is lovely.”

Fiona made a sound like a snore. Uncle Haggis’s paper dropped to assess her and she folded her hands primly.

Clarissa also did her best to concentrate on her eggs and sausage without looking at Ewan McDougal at all. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but she had no use for male conversation, especially not from a man as suspicious as he or as handsome.

She heard him shuffle, each little noise jangling across her nerves. It was as though she were aware of every move he made. “Will you ride with us today?”

“I’m afraid they’ve talked me into it.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked at him. Which was a horrendous mistake because a tingling reverberated through her at the proximity of his strong jaw, penetrating eyes, and soft lips.

“You don’t like to ride?” He looked…relieved by that information. He gave her a patronizing smile. “I ken ye were an English lady and not a Scottish lass.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She could feel herself bristle.

He shrugged. “To each his own, I suppose, but every Scot not only likes horses but is a first-rate rider.”

She huffed a breath. He was insulting her again. It seemed as though he thought her less for simply being English. “Does every Scot also have such a high opinion of himself?”

She heard Keiran chuckle, though it was muffled by the food in his mouth. “She’s got you there,” Keiran called across the table.

She could hear one of her aunts clucking her tongue, but she ignored it.

He glared at Keiran and then turned back to her. “It’s not an opinion, simply a fact. Scots are as good on a horse as they are with a weapon. That’s why the Sas—I mean the English—draft us in droves into their army.”

The anger was coursing through her veins, reaching her fingers and toes, making her long to slap him, kick him, or kiss him…though why she had thought that last one she couldn’t possibly say. “Is that what all your little barbs are about?” She pointed a glare at him as her eyebrows rose.

“What little barbs?” He fired back, though guilt flitted across his face, pinching his mouth.

“You know perfectly well…”

“Enough, both of you,” Uncle Haggis called. “We’re breaking fast, not bones.”

“My fast is broken.” Clarissa stood, tossing her napkin onto the table. Holding one side of her skirt, she did her best to sweep from the room. She’d not tolerate another second of Ewan McDougal.

* * *

Ewan watched her walk away, back straight, skirt out to one side, hips swaying as she went. He couldn’t blame her for leaving. Without meaning to, he raked his hands through his hair. He was being an arse. The question was why? One half-blooded English lady should not have him so out of sorts.

He amended to be nicer to her on the outing today. Stop insulting her English heritage. He was making an arse of himself. If he hoped to make Fiona his bride, he’d best not fight with her cousin. His hands found his hair again, his eyes closing for a moment. Did he really hope to make Fiona his bride? It was what he came here for, and he should give her a chance, but somehow all he could focus on was Clarissa whenever she was in the room.

He returned to the task of eating his breakfast but several people around the table gave him curious stares. He swore to himself. This trip had been a disaster.

Two hours later the party set off toward the loch, Ewan riding next to Fiona in the front. She was everything he’d expected her to be on horse. Graceful, in command. He suspected she’d keep up with him if given the chance.

The other ladies fell in line behind them with Agnes and Keiran at the back.

A horse’s snort caused him to turn. Clarissa’s horse pawed at the ground, skittering sideways. It was too large and powerful for her by half.

He’d been doing his best to neither look nor talk to her, but a flutter of a different kind rose in his chest. Seeing her on that beast made him afraid. Their eyes met, hers the size of saucers.

“Fiona,” she choked. “You said you’d get me a gentle—”

Fiona’s laugh cut her off. His eyes swung to her. Her gaze was filled with mischief. He recognized that look. It had annoyed him when she was a child, it always meant trouble. But now, it absolutely terrified him.

He pulled his horse to a stop and turned, reaching back for the reins of Clarissa’s animal. But the beast sidestepped and then came up on two hooves, pawing the air.

Ewan nearly cursed and Clarissa’s eyes were so wide with fear, she looked like a spectre. But she held on, even as the horse took off across the open land.

He didn’t think or speak, he just kicked his own beast into action. His horse was lightning-quick, but Clarissa was so light on that giant steed’s back that he was eating the ground before him. Clarissa was bouncing about her sidesaddle, barely keeping her seat. He couldn’t hear a sound other than the wind and the thuds of his own heart but she must have been screaming.

Closing the distance between them, he wondered what to do. Should he try for the reins again? But that had spooked the animal to begin with. Pluck her from her seat? They were moving very quickly.

Drawing up next to the horse, he grabbed at the rein and gave it a firm tug, trying to calm the animal with a show of dominance. The horse pulled up and, without hesitation, he grabbed Clarissa around her waist and plucked her from the animal and onto his own saddle across his lap.

He’d expected it to be difficult but her tiny frame slid easily onto his. What he hadn’t anticipated was the absolute jolt that shot through his groin at the contact of her bottom against it.

It was deliciously curvy, soft, and a near perfect fit between his thighs. Her arms snaked around his neck and she twisted her torso to press chest to chest. Her breath came out in short gasps and his teeth clenched. She was afraid. Only afraid. It wasn’t desire that caused her breath to hitch so.

But he responded to it anyway and the insane urge to lean his head down and kiss those plump, panting lips nearly overtook him.

He slowed his horse to a slow walk. His job was to comfort her, and he tightened his hands around her waist. It was meant to keep her safe, but it only drew them closer.

Her cheeks were now flushed and her body molded to his. Bloody bullocks, she fit against him like she was meant to be there. He’d been so afraid. Now, holding her in his arms, he wanted to crush her to his chest and never let her go.

He wanted to kiss those pretty lips and then he wanted to feel her skin…his mouth was drawing closer to hers. It wasn’t as though he meant to, it was just happening.

Even more strangely, hers seemed to be moving toward his. Her eyes, which had been wide open, were now drifting closed. She wanted to kiss him too.

And that shocked him back to reality. “Are ye all right lass?” His voice was a husky murmur with her body fitted to his.

She blinked several times as though coming back to reality. “You…you saved me.” Her honey voice had a breathless quality about it. He nearly groaned, the sound tugging at his manhood, making it even more difficult to not capture her lips with his.

He couldn’t help it. Her already loose coif had released several tendrils around her face, glossy soft curls that were now brushing against his shirt. He lifted one hand, securely holding her with the other, and brushed the hair back.

Slipping through his fingers, the locks were more like water from a clear stream than anything else. Silkier than he’d imagined, he ached to bury his face in the strands. He’d been dreaming about her hair. Having it trailing over his chest, his hands tangled in the locks. To touch them nearly undid him.

“You didn’t think I was going to let that horse kill ye, did ye?” He gave a little chuckle and God help him, he let his hand slide into her hair at the nape of her neck.

She looked to the side then. “You’ve earned the right to tell me you were correct.”

Confusion clouded his mind. He didn’t understand what she might be referring to, but perhaps that was just because, in turning her head, she’d exposed the creamy column of her neck. And he was trying to decide which he’d most like to kiss, her lips or the trail of skin from her ear to the neckline of her dress. “What are ye talkin’ about, lass?”

“You said that a Sassenach can’t ride like a Scot. I am the only one whose horse ran away with its rider.” She bit her lip, still looking to the side.

And that was when all reason left his brain. Because the sight of those perfect little teeth nibbling on that full, sumptuous-looking skin was more than a man could take. His fingers slid from her hair, across the delicate column of her neck and to her chin where he gently turned her face back to his.

His head dipped and his body tightened at the thought of claiming those lips for his own.

“Is everyone all right over there?” Keiran called.

Curse words he hadn’t said in years bubbled to the forefront of his tongue but he pressed his lips together to keep them from tumbling out.

Instead he whispered, “Tonight we can plan your revenge against Fiona.”

And that was when it happened. She gave him a smile with no malice, no distrust even, just a beautiful unreserved grin that lit every hollow of her face. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

“For helping with revenge?” He brushed another tendril as it blew in the breeze. Her hair might be his undoing.

“For not telling me how I am a useless Sas—“ she started.

“Don’t say it,” he growled back because suddenly he was embarrassed by those words. For lumping her in with the men that had sent him off to war.

Keiran reined his horse next to them, Fiona just on his other side. Clarissa leveled her with a glare and for once, it was nice to not have it trained on him. “Fiona McDougal,” she snapped. “Were you attempting to orchestrate my death?”

“Don’t be silly.” Fiona looked less sure of herself now. Not so pleased with her jest.

Clarissa had one arm around his neck but the other came to her hip. “That horse could have killed me. That isn’t funny, Fi-o-na.” She drew out her cousin’s name to make her point.

“If you’d seen yourself, you might have thought it was comical,” Fiona answered, looking to the side.

“It was dangerous,” Ewan scolded, unable to help himself. Fiona’s tricks had always annoyed him and this one made him downright furious. He’d been so afraid for Clarissa. His hand tightened around her waist at the thought.

Fiona leveled him with a glare. “She’s my family. I am the one who cares for her. I don’t see that it’s any of your business what happens to the English miss.”

Ewan winced because she was correct. He’d done nothing but insult her English heritage. Many of his soldiers had suffered tremendously at the hand of the very men they’d fought for. Not only were they pushed to the front of the line again and again, suffering great losses, but when they returned home many of their lands had been confiscated and their families sent away in the name of progress.

But Clarissa had nothing to do with any of that.

Not that he wanted to marry an Englishwoman, but insulting her was just plain childish.

He looked down at her to say something, anything to explain himself but her eyes were now cast to the ground. “Lord Dumfries,” her voice was just above a whisper. “Would you please take me back to the castle? I am done riding for the day.”

“Of course,” he replied. But his insides twisted again because he could hear the hurt in her voice.

The ride back was silent, which he was alternately grateful for and worried about. Was she angry with him?

But her body remained pressed to his, head in the crook of his neck, his arm tucked around her waist. Never in his whole life had a woman felt this good against him. He leaned down and caught a whiff of her scent. Like spring flowers after a rain, it filled him with calm even as it excited him.

The castle came into view and he tightened his grip. He didn’t want to let her go. “Are ye sure you wish to return, lass?

“Oh yes, thank you, though.” She sat up a little straighter and he regretted asking. “Thank you again for rescuing me.” She didn’t look at him but her pink cheeks gave away her emotion.

“I’d never let anything happen to ye,” he said, surprised how much he meant the words.

She looked in his eyes then. The look tugged at his heart. Ach, he wanted to kiss her. “With any luck you’ll never need rescue me again.”

He wasn’t exactly sure that would be lucky. In fact, with any luck, he’d have her tucked against him like this in the very near future. The thought near scared him out of his wits because he shouldn’t want an English lass who could barely ride a horse. But something about her felt so right. He wasn’t ready to throw away his principles but he wouldn’t dismiss these feelings either. For the first time in a very long time he was alive again.

Chapter 5

Clarissa sat curled up in the library with a novel, exactly where she had wanted to be. So why did she feel so empty with everyone off and her here alone?

She could admit to one thing, her swirling thoughts were not about Lord Davenport, as they had been for days and weeks now. Instead they were on Lord McDougal.

She had to give him some modicum of credit. He’d come to her aid, twice. But his interest in her was obvious despite being here to court her cousin, which definitely made him a rake.

But he hated her English blood, and she his rakish ways, and so there was nothing left to think about really. Except she couldn’t seem to put him out of her mind.

Sighing, she closed the book. She wasn’t getting any reading done. Her Aunt Rhona walked into the library. She didn’t start browsing the titles but instead walked straight toward Clarissa. Clarissa held back a sigh. Clearly, her aunt wanted to discuss something.

“My wee bairn, how are ye fairin’?” Aunt Rhona kissed her cheek as she stood to greet her elder.

“Fine, Aunt Rhona.” She gave a weak smile.

“Are you going to tell me about what happened?”

“Fiona gave me a wild horse and I nearly was killed. Lord McDougal—”

“Lamb, I know about all that. I’m askin’ about London.” Her aunt reached for her hand giving it a squeeze.

With a sigh, she sat down and her aunt did too. “It was humiliating.”

“I can only imagine. Judith says you haven’t spoken a word about it. I think it’s time. Don’t you?”

She gave a mute nod, dreading this moment. But somehow, it didn’t hurt quite as much as the other times she attempted to discuss it. “It was the engagement party. It was supposed to be the event of the season. It’s not every day a marquess becomes betrothed.” She had been swept up in the excitement of it, she could admit that to herself. In less than two months, they’d gone from first meeting to engaged. Every lady knew that publicly announcing the match was a pinnacle moment.

Engaged couples were allowed time alone. Not that he’d been anything other than proper. But if the marriage fell through, the lady was ruined.

“How did the betrothal come about? Were you in love with him?” Her aunt was still holding her hand and she gave it a tiny squeeze.

“No, of course not. My father had arranged it. He wanted to see me attached to a strong title. I had heard the rumors about Lord Davenport, a gambler and a rake, but he was so attentive when we were together. He was handsome and complimentary, I thought our feelings would grow over time. I was such a fool.”

“You are young. And you were trying to make the best of an arranged marriage.” Her aunt gave her a gentle smile.

Clarissa took a shaky breath, the shame of what had happened washing over her once again. “My father was getting ready to make the toast but Lord Davenport was nowhere to be found. Five minutes past and then ten.” Her insides twisted into knots remembering the shame of standing there waiting for him, all eyes on her. It was nothing compared with what was about to come. “Two hundred people and I could have heard a pin drop. Then a howling laugh cut through the silence.” Her hands pressed into her eyes as nausea rose in her stomach. “‘He’s tuppping a maid!’” Tears burned at the back of her eyes but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“Oh, lamb.” Her aunt reached for her but she barely felt the touch as she relived the moment.

“Two hundred eyes turned to me. Some laughing, some appalled, some filled with pity. I heard a woman yell, ‘She couldn’t even get him to the altar.’” A tiny sob broke out. “I just ran. The next day I wrote the letter and three days later I set off for the castle. I haven’t shown my face in any respectable establishment in London since and I might never again.” she meant those words with every ache of her beating heart. She hadn’t done a thing wrong and yet a careless rake had destroyed her life. She’d fled her home, friends, even family. She’d never fall prey to a man like that again.

“Don’t say such things,” her aunt clucked. “You’re young and beautiful and not at fault that your father made a match with a known rogue. There will be others.”

She shook her head. “I’m as good as ruined. That kind of scandal, only the most desperate of men would even consider—”

“Lass, England isn’t the only place to find a future. Even your father chose a Scottish bride.”

She shook her head. “I’ll never open myself up like that again.” While she hadn’t envisioned herself a spinster, she couldn’t see herself marrying either. And if she did, it certainly wouldn’t be to someone so carelessly handsome like Ewan. She’d need someone safe.

“Oh, Clarissa. Don’t let a man you didn’t even love close your heart.” Aunt Rhona’s eyes pleaded with her.

Giving a nod, Clarissa kept her thoughts to herself. She couldn’t imagine trusting like that ever again.

Long after her aunt had left the library those words reverberated through her chest.

* * *

With Clarissa gone, Ewan attempted to focus his attention on the ride and the woman he was here to court.

Fiona was everything he’d expected a wife to be. Her horsemanship was excellent, her ability to ride tireless, and even when it began to drizzle, she pushed forward, first to reach the loch. This was the type of woman who could work alongside him to repair his land.

But with her energy came a tireless need for adventure, which filled him with dread. He’d had all the adventure one life could handle, and now he wanted to rest in the country with a simple life.

His mind kept drifting to the library. Before they’d left, he’d heard Clarissa say that was where she would be. He envisioned her tucked by the fire, book in hand, steaming pot of tea by her side.

It sounded…divine. And as they approached the loch, he looked over the darkening water in the drizzle and realized that the grey blue of Clarissa’s eyes were exactly the color of the water on a cloudy day.

But that didn’t matter. So what if she looked like a piece of Scotland? She was English, and though he wouldn’t denigrate her any longer for it, it still didn’t change the fact that she’d likely want to continue her life in London. She deserved it. He could see by her gowns she came from wealth. What did he have to offer really? Years of war and a broken-down piece of land.

A rider appeared on the other side of the loch. He was wearing the green and red tartan of the Campbell Clan.

Fiona kicked her horse forward, “What are ye doin’ here?” she called out angrily.

The other riders had caught up and he heard Emilia and Ainsley giggling.

“Out with it now, lassies. What is so funny?”

Emilia hid her smile, trying to look innocent but Ainsley burst out, “That’s Colin Campbell. Colin and Fiona are always at odds. Mum swears they’re sweet on each other.”

“Ainsley McDougal,” Emilia chastised. “Stop your prattling.”

Belatedly Ainsley realized the implication of what she had said. But Ewan only shrugged. It was not so uncommon for a woman or a man to fancy someone else when a marriage was arranged.

It didn’t mean they wouldn’t suit one another.

With that in mind, he kicked his horse forward to join Fiona’s conversation.

As he approached, he could hear the arguing, but he couldn’t make out the words. Finally he caught Colin say, “You’d be married already if ye learned to curb your tongue.”

He could only see a third of Fiona’s face, but that third turned bright red at his words. “You’ve got to do better than that, Colin Campbell. Everyone knows no decent woman would have ye.”

“It’s not a decent woman that I’m—”

“Hey now,” Ewan called, intentionally interrupting the exchange. Those were no words to be saying to a lady, whether Fiona could handle them or not. If someone had spoken them to Clarissa… He forced his mind to focus back on Fiona.

“And who are ye?” Colin’s eyes raked up and down them.

“Lord McDougal is my intended.” She threw the words at Colin as though throwing a stone. Colin’s head snapped back, eyes blinking, and Ewan felt as shocked as Colin looked.

There had been no formal arrangement made. Up to this point, he could climb on his horse and return home with only a thank you. But her declaration changed things entirely.

But it was only to Colin and out of anger. Surely the other man would understand if he explained they weren’t formally…

“Well that’s wonderful news,” Ainsley chirped behind him. “Da will be so happy to hear it.”

His teeth snapped together and Fiona whipped her head around, panic making her eyes bulge as they met his. She clearly hadn’t meant to say the words but now they were out and there was no taking them back.

Colin gave a terse shake of his head. “Congratulations to ye both.” Then he turned his horse and was gone.

There was nothing to be said with the rest of the party watching and so he stared absently at the lake, a sick pit of dread filling his stomach.

He’d come here to court Fiona, he told himself. But Clarissa’s image danced behind his eyelids. Which was absurd; he hardly knew her and he wasn’t interested in an English lady.

She could barely ride a horse. She spoke with an English accent.

She smelled like flowers in the rain.

Emilia and Ainsley seemed to sense that something was wrong. They were silently appraising both Fiona and him. Keiran stood off to the side, whistling. For once, he wasn’t complaining about the mist falling. Only Agnes seemed unaffected. She stood at the shore of the loch taking in the mountains and the water, oblivious to the drama unfolding behind her.

Finally Emilia cleared her throat, “The rain is worsening. Let’s return.”

They all returned to their horses, Agnes giving the loch one final glance. “Scottish lochs may be the most beautiful sight in the world.”

Keiran gave her a wink. “You should see the loch my home sits on. Puts this to shame.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that.” Agnes nodded as Keiran aided her onto her horse.

Ewan turned to help Fiona, but she’d seated herself already. Like a true Scottish lass.

Why did getting exactly what he wanted make him feel miserable?

Chapter 6

Clarissa glanced out the window of the library when the party returned, glad to see them back. She still ached inside, but a little less than she had this morning. Perhaps someday, her anger and sadness would abate.

It also occurred to her that some of her resentment toward Ewan was just a redistribution of her anger at Lord Davenport, whom she hadn’t allowed an audience before she left London. In retrospect she should have seen him, if only to tell him how much she hated him and every breath he took.

But that wasn’t Ewan’s fault and while she had labeled him a rake, he had no real commitment to Fiona. Perhaps she’d misjudged the situation.

Ainsley and Emilia rushed into the library, their eyes wide, as they approached her.

“Fiona declared her engagement to Lord McDougal,” Ainsley burst out.

Clarissa’s hands balled into fists. She hadn’t misjudged at all. He was giving her long glances while tying himself to her cousin.

“She can’t marry him,” her voice was far breathier than she intended. “He’s ill-intentioned.”

“It’s not his fault that Fiona is so hot-headed.” Emilia gave her a curious stare.

Clarissa blinked twice, absorbing those words. As Emilia rushed through the explanation of what had happened, Clarissa’s shoulders sagged. It didn’t matter, she told herself. That he hadn’t actually been acting as a rake made no difference, even if her heart cried that it did. She’d no intention of marrying, especially not a man courting her beloved cousin, but somehow it filled her with loneliness to see them actually paired. But perhaps she’d feel that way no matter what. It wasn’t any feelings toward Ewan, simply a reminder that she wouldn’t marry as all of her cousins would.

Walking into the foyer, she saw Ewan softly whispering in her ear. Clarissa had no idea what he said, but Fiona nodded several times. His hand was on Fiona’s elbow, and she leaned her head down, almost touching his chest as he spoke.

The pose was so intimate that a stab of pain pierced her chest. She turned her head away. It didn’t matter. But all the same, she couldn’t watch them snuggled together, deep in an intimate discussion.

Holding her book, she decided she might read after all. Perhaps in her room, or mayhap she’d find the attic, or an outbuilding. Somewhere far away from the scene unfolding.

Ewan’s gaze caught hers and she inhaled sharply. She quickly schooled her features into a blank expression, but she feared he’d seen her look of pain before it had been erased.

She knew now that Scotland hadn’t been far enough to escape her heartache. Not even close. If anything, this was worse. Perhaps she should move to America.

Turning away, she slowly climbed the stairs to her room. What she needed was to be alone.

But that wasn’t meant to be. Two hours later, Agnes opened her door, huffing and tossing herself onto the bed. Ainsley followed, looking equally sullen.

“It is generally polite to knock.” She raised her eyebrows as Ainsley also threw herself across the bed.

“What?” Agnes titled her head to look at her. “My apologies.” She waved her hand, dismissing her gaff.

“They left without us,” Ainsley pouted.

“Who?” Clarissa asked, attempting to keep up with the conversation.

“Lord McKenna, Lord McDougal, Fiona, and Emilia.” Agnes huffed as though it should be obvious. “They said the weather had cleared and they wished to go on a proper ride.”

“We said we would join them, but we were told this was a smaller party and not to bother.” Ainsley crossed her arms over her chest.

“I don’t like Lord McKenna.” Agnes burst out. “It was surely his idea to leave us out. I bet he doesn’t like us simply because we’re English.”

Clarissa bit back a smile. It eased some of her ache. “Lord McDougal is the one who’s spoken out against the English.”

“That’s right and what has that got to do with me?” Ainsley stuck her thumb in her chest.

Agnes rolled her eyes. “You’re too young to understand.”

“You’re only three years older than me.” Ainsley stood, her hands planted on her hips.

“It’s an important three years.” Agnes placed her hands on her hips as though it made her an authority. “I’ll come out next season and…”

“English snob.” Ainsley stuck out her tongue.

“See,” Agnes pointed at her. “Childish.”

Clarissa cleared her throat. “I’m sure they had a perfectly good reason.” Taking a breath, she pushed through the next words. “Fiona and Lord McDougal are getting married. And perhaps Lord McKenna has decided to court Emilia. She has such a lovely—”

But she stopped because Agnes had given a tiny, almost inaudible gasp. Looking at her cousin, she could see that Agnes had paled and her lips trembled. Perhaps Agnes didn’t dislike Lord McKenna quite as much as she had declared.

Dinner that evening, with all the company assembled, may have been one of the most uncomfortable events she’d attended in quite some time. Besides her own engagement party, of course.

Fiona was silent and sullen. Though why that would be, Clarissa had no idea.

Ainsley and Agnes were still angry. Agnes mostly pouted, which was in stark contrast to her normally bubbly personality, while Ainsley did her best to throw barbs at every opportunity.

“How was the ride?” Uncle Haggis asked.

“Lovely,” Ewan had answered.

“I wish I knew.” Ainsley stuck out her lip.

Ewan cleared his throat, looking at her uncle. “The morning ride was rained out and so we took a second, smaller party out in the afternoon.”

Uncle Haggis winked. “Of course. Small groups make for better conversation.” Than he chuckled at his own meaning.

Both Ewan and Fiona gave him a strained smile.

Keiran joined in the chuckle. “Interesting conversation, indeed.”

Agnes whipped her head around. “If you had any manners, you’d conduct yourself as a gentleman.”

His eyebrows rose. “There was nothing ungentlemanly in what I just said.”

Agnes tossed her napkin on her plate. “And what about sitting on your horse while women are stranded on the side of the road?”

“Agnes,” Aunt Judith chastised. “What has gotten into all of you this evening?”

Aunt Judith looked to Clarissa with a questioning glance but Clarissa understood as little as her aunt. She would have to speak with Agnes and find out.

Ewan knew exactly what was happening within the group at the table, which didn’t improve his mood whatsoever. Clarissa had not looked at him once, nor had she spoken a word.

He’d seen the way she’d looked at him and Fiona. But there was nothing to do for it. He’d not let Fiona be shunned as a jilted bride, even it meant his own happiness. He was first and foremost a man of honor, and that meant standing by Fiona, rather than allowing her to be ruined. But damn, it was difficult. Every glance at Clarissa heated his blood. He wanted to explore those feelings with her, not tie himself to Fiona.

He considered explaining it to her but then thought better of it. It somehow implied there was something between them when there wasn’t.

As dinner finished, several members of the party shot up, as though they couldn’t wait to exit the dining room.

Uncle Haggis looked at Aunt Rhona as though they’d all gone mad. “Everyone to the music room.” He clapped his hands. “McDougals don’t go to bed early.”

If they could have, they’d all have groaned aloud. But the group dutifully filed up the main stairs and into the spacious music room.

Agnes clapped when she saw the pianoforte at one end of the room. “You have one!”

“It’s Scotland, not the ends of the earth.” Ainsley grumped. She was likely still angry about their discussion earlier.

“Is it all right if I play?” she asked.

Uncle Haggis gave her a broad smile, “Of course, lass. That’s why we’re here.”

She seated herself on the bench and tested a few keys. Clarissa also loved to play. She and Agnes spent hours practicing. After Agnes’s father had passed two years ago, her cousin and aunt came to live with her family. Clarissa had actually missed her first season to mourn with them.

Lord Davenport had begun his courtship before she’d even officially come out. She supposed she’d never had a real season, not that it mattered to her.

Agnes broke into a light and playful song that melted any melancholy off her face.

Everyone broke into a smile as her skillful fingers danced over the keys. Her aunts began to clap, swaying to the music while Emilia grabbed Ainsley’s arm and, pulling her from the chair, broke into a jig.

Clarissa grinned too, clapping with her aunts. Even Fiona returned to herself, jumping up and circling around her sisters.

Keiran had the largest grin of all. “It soothes my tired soul.” He tilted his head back, letting the music wash over him.

As the song ended, Agnes turned to Clarissa. “Why don’t you play that Highland song you’ve been working on?”

Clarissa hesitated. It was mournful song about the tyranny of the English. Her mother had insisted she learn it but the mournful strains had spoken to her. She was sure Ewan would likely enjoy it but it would depress the mood that had just lifted. “It’s awfully melancholy.”

Agnes waved her hand. “It’s Aunt Fenella’s favorite and Clarissa plays it beautifully.”

It was, indeed, her mother’s favorite song that Clarissa played. Clarissa took a seat on the bench, going through each section of the song in her mind. Taking a breath, she tapped a few keys to test them and then struck the first notes.

She hadn’t played since everything had happened. But all the pain and humiliation rushed to her fingertips and cried out in the notes of the song. She didn’t look at anyone, she barely looked at anything, even the keys in front of her, as all that emotion poured into the song.

The sadness, anger, inability to affect change. Every note struck an emotional chord. Each stroke of a key coming from her heart until the very last note died.

No one had made a sound through the piece and it took a few moments before she could bring herself to open her eyes.

Slowly, fluttering them open, she looked to the assembled guests. Aunt Judith sat crying, tears silently sliding down her face. When their eyes locked, her aunt’s face spasmed in pain. “I can’t imagine how much it hurt, Clarissa.”

“Please don’t.” Her eyes searched every face then, to see their reaction. Aunt Rhona held her hands over her mouth while Fiona and Emilia looked at their laps.

Uncle Haggis reached up to wipe a tear from his eye. That almost undid her, because she’d never seen her uncle cry.

Last, her eyes met Ewan’s. He had given up his seat and stood two steps in front of the settee he’d been seated on, his hand partially raised toward her. His face was a mask of stone, his brows drawn together, though she didn’t know if he pitied her or was simply reacting to the emotion of the song. But she didn’t want to find out.

“I…I’m very tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” She stood abruptly, knocking the bench backward.

Uncle Haggis stood then too. He shook his head. “I love ye like my own daughter. So I’m going to tell you that it’s time to stop running. Most of all, from yer family and from yer self.”

Words failed her as the truth of the statement slammed into her. She’d physically run from London, but emotionally she ducked away every time it was difficult. She gave a nod to acknowledge her uncle but couldn’t make her voice work to answer. Clearing her throat, she finally answered, “I will.”

Then she turned to pick up the bench and suddenly Ewan was next to her. She couldn’t look at him and so she struggled to right the bench instead. Strong hands lifted the wooden frame she’d been grasping to haul it back up.

She reached for the cushioned seat to slide it back in place but his hand grazed hers. She made to pull back but he held it tight. Then she looked in his eyes. She was afraid he would ask questions or look at her with pity, but he did neither. Instead his eyes were kind, filled with understanding. “I was wrong about you, lass. You’re a Scot through and through.”

She returned the smile. That validation eased her ache. He didn’t ask her anything else as he helped her stand. Walking back around the pianoforte, he offered her his elbow. She took it, and somehow touching him made it easier to take her seat rather than run away.

Her family was still looking at her, but the gazes had changed. Instead of sadness or pity, they were watching her with…curiosity. Now, what was that all about?

Chapter 7

Ewan tried to get his emotions under control. War had made him exceptionally disciplined so the feeling of spinning wildly off course was shocking, nauseating, and just a touch exhilarating too. Fortunately, it was the middle of the night and he was alone in his room so no one would witness as he came undone.

He knew exactly what was causing the emotion. That little pixie, Clarissa. What confounded him was what to do about it.

Earlier that day, he’d travelled with Fiona, Keiran, and Emilia to the Campbell estates under the guise of going for another ride. He and Fiona had ridden in front.

“What will you say to him?” He’d asked.

“I know how to handle, Colin.” She bit back.

Irritation washed through him. “As well as you handled him earlier? This affects us both. I’ve a right to know what you’ll say.”

He heard her breath hiss out. “I’ll tell him the truth. I made up it up and you were too much a gentleman to call me out. Does that make you happy? I’ll be humiliated.”

“I don’t wish to see you humiliated.” He turned to look at her then. “If we were to actually marry, none of this would be necessary.”

Her face pinched but her answer was guarded. “Do ye want to marry me?”

He considered his answer, but decided to ask a question instead. “Are ye in love with Colin?” He needed to know. This was their future.

“Are ye in love with Clarissa?” She turned to him, eyes flashing.

He blinked a few times. He barely knew her. Of course he wasn’t in love. But there was this pull that he couldn’t deny.

For the moment, he couldn’t leave Castle Kounan. While Fiona sought out Colin and explained why she’d said what she did, there was no telling what might happen. If Colin announced her error to his clan, Fiona would need his help.

He’d allow her to publicly denounce him. Then she wouldn’t be humiliated. He didn’t live here, it was no trouble to him. But she’d never live it down.

But he couldn’t escape his attraction to Clarissa, though she’d given him almost no encouragement.

Her pain had been near palpable while she’d played the pianoforte and, like a bolt of lightning, he’d become aware of what had been hidden just below her surface. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but he knew her feelings mirrored his own. That desire to run and hide from the world that had been so cruel.

He masked it better, with angry barbs about the bloody English. But there was an understanding of shared pain.

One that was difficult to accept if ye hadn’t been through it. Their second riding party of the day had been a trip to Campbell lands. They’d decided it would be best if Fiona explained to Colin that she wasn’t exactly engaged. Fiona had blurted out on the ride there that Ewan was too serious for her to marry anyway.

The lass was angry and lashing out. But deeper than that, she likely found him too stoic. He couldna help it though, he’d seen too much to want to frolic without considering responsibility and he needed a woman who would understand what he’d been through.

So unless Colin outed Fiona, he’d likely not marry her. Much as he wanted to be settled, she wasna right for him.

And Clarissa. He ran his hands through his hair, sitting up in bed. It was no use lying down. He grabbed his kilt and pulled it on, stalking over to the window to watch the moonlight play along the ocean. Clarissa was all wrong for completely different reasons.

She was too wrapped in her own cloak of agony to open her heart. He gave his head a shake. Was that what he wanted? Her heart? His brain was going soft.

She didn’t like him and, what was more, she needed time to heal.

Even if that wasn’t true, he’d said he wanted a true Scottish lass. He ran his hands through his hair again. What did that even mean? No she didna have wild hair as she flew across the heather on her horse, but she was strong, full of emotion, passionate, and beautiful. She was glorious. Would he really pass that up because her father was English?

The swish of paper caught his attention. He watched as a folded note slipped under his door. In an instant he was sprinting across his room. He didn’t need to read it to know Clarissa had delivered it; the paper smelled of her.

For a second, he considered reading the words first but then she’d be gone, and so instead, he wrenched open the door and stepped into the hall.

Clarissa had only made it a few paces, but her back was to him. As she turned, surprise lit her features and she opened her mouth. Afraid she would scream, he stepped up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, the other coming to cover her mouth.

The soft fabric of her nightdress rubbed against his bare chest as her body molded to his. His arm fit perfectly in the crook of her back as her breasts crushed against him. He’d meant to tell her that he’d do her no harm. That he grabbed her to keep them from being discovered. But at the contact of their bodies, all reason left his mind.

Instead he removed his hand and replaced it with his lips. Slanting open her mouth, his tongue plundered hers as the taste of honey made him groan with need.

As his tongue withdrew and then repeated the tasting, it was met by her own tongue tentatively returning the gesture.

He nearly came undone. Backing her against the wall, he deepened the kiss further, pressing their bodies together, his hands molding to her ripe buttocks to lift her higher, press them closer still.

His cock was near bursting, and as he lifted her higher, it settled between her legs, only their clothes separating them. But he knew he’d reached the spot where she needed contact because she bucked and moaned. “Yes,” her voice hissed.

Continuing to plunder her mouth, he lifted her further, rubbing her against him. Her legs locked around his waist and luscious hips started working to help him with the movement. All the while making the most delicious little noises.

He tried to recall the last time he held a woman like this or when a female had responded so instantly and completely to his touch.

But he couldna picture anything but her. Dimly, he was aware they were still in the hall and he picked her up, not stopping the rhythm, but he started carrying her into his room. They needed some privacy.

But as they stepped through the door, her body went rigid against his and she began pushing him away.

“What’s the matter, lass?” he asked, completely mystified by her sudden change of behavior.

“I…I…shouldn’t be in your room.” She stopped struggling, talking calming her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He held her still, not moving but not letting her go. “I just thought you’d not want to be discovered in the hall.”

“Of course I don’t. But anything could happen in your chamber—”

He gave her a small, light kiss. “Nothing’s going to happen, lass. Nothing that you don’t want.” He kissed her again and she softened, just a little.

“No bed,” he crooned softly. “And all of our clothes stay on.” He kissed a trail along her cheek to her ear and then down her neck. “My kilt won’t move an inch. I thought just to finish ye with what we were doing. Rubbing and kissing…nothing more.”

“That’s it.” She arched her neck back to allow him access. “We won’t actually do…that?”

He felt her skin heat and he smiled as he continued kissing down her neck to her collarbone. “Nae, mo chridhe. I just want to bring you a little pleasure. Nothing more. I swear it.”

She flexed her hips to rub against him just a little and he groaned as a coo escaped her lips. Using his hands, he guided her up and down as she rubbed against his clothed shaft, her moans growing faster and louder.

He longed to lift the hem of her nightdress and sink a finger inside her, feel her wetness and her heat but he had promised, and so he resisted.

His lips had reached the neckline of her gown and flicking open the ties with one hand he drew the fabric to the side to take one luscious nipple in his mouth.

He could have done this for hours, but with a single flick of his tongue, she came undone. It was beautiful and so intoxicating that he wanted more.

His lips found hers and kissed her over and over as spasm after spasm wracked her body, his arms creating a cradle for her.

Then she melted into him. It seemed as though every inch of her skin touched his and a fresh wave of need overtook him. Her head cradled into the crook of his neck. “Oh that was…” Her voice drifted off not completing the thought.

He had to get her back to her room before he forgot all about the promise he’d just made.

With that in mind, he sprinted down the hall with her still in his arms, his body pulsing with need. It looked as though he wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all.

Chapter 8

Her first waking thought was that it had been the most delicious night of her life. Her second was that Ewan McDougal was undoubtedly the second worst rake she’d ever met. Granted, she’d only met two. And the first had destroyed her in front of all of society.

At least this time if she were ruined, she’d had fun. Delicious, wonderful, intoxicating fun. And she deserved to be a fallen woman now. Unlike before, where her only real crime was poor judgment. But a cancelled wedding was unforgivable.

Still, she had to stay far away from Ewan McDougal. She’d likely encouraged him with the letter she’d slipped under his door. She’d thanked him for saving her from the horse. Words she’d meant to say but hadn’t.

Fiona flashed through her mind and a wave of guilt nearly knocked her over. She had committed the same sin against Fiona that Michael Davenport had done to her.

Selfish fool, she hissed covering her eyes with her arm. She changed her mind, Ewan was the worst rake she knew. He’d seduced her with sinfully delicious touches that made her forget who he was and what was important to her. At least Davenport had been caught with a scullery maid. What she’d done with Ewan might ruin her relationship with her family.

Dressing quickly, she hurried out of her bedroom, intent on finding Fiona. Somehow she had to explain, make this right.

As for Ewan, she’d never speak to him again. It made her heart ache, she’d never allowed a man such liberties and she might never again. But clearly, it couldn’t be special for him. He’d touched her while engaged to another so she pushed her heartache aside. No dewy feelings for rakish lords.

Fiona sat in the breakfast room. She quickly took a seat next to her cousin, Uncle Haggis at his usual spot at the head of the table. “I need to speak with you,” she whispered frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Fiona asked, leaning her head toward her cousin.

She leaned closer too. Uncle Haggis would interrupt any minute and she needed to say this as concisely as possible. “Don’t marry Lord Dumfries.”

Fiona tipped her head back, sitting up straight, mischief dancing in her gaze. “You want him for yourself. I don’t blame ye. He’s handsome enough. A little serious for my taste, but he’d suit you well. And with the title, yer father might even approve.” Then she leaned in. “You should tell him about yer dowry. His lands are near ruined after he’d been gone so long. His brother was too young to care for them.”

Clarissa blinked, trying to understand. Fiona and Ewan were getting married, she couldn’t pursue him. “He’s already engaged to—”

“Not so loud, now. “ Fiona hissed. “Da is not privy to all these details.”

Clarissa nodded her understanding. Parents were best left out ‘til it was absolutely necessary. But she wondered what was going on between Ewan and Fiona. Because it didn’t sound like they were to marry. Which was good. Not because she wanted him, even though Fiona seemed to think that she did, but because he couldn’t be trusted. He still kissed her passionately when they weren’t even courting. Never mind that she’d kissed him back. Never mind they’d done far more. “Well, you’ve time then. Pick someone else—or no one else. Lord Dumfries is a rake. You don’t want a man like that.”

Now it was Fiona’s turn to look shocked. “He’s many things, but a rake isna one of them.”

Clarissa stamped her slipper. Agnes kept saying that too. Why didn’t they believe her? Only a rake would have done the things they did last night with one woman while being engaged to another. Even if he wasn’t really engaged. But how did she tell her cousin that? Should she just tell her the truth?

“He is. I know he is.”

“You’re letting your past experience color your judgment. Ewan is noble and kind.” Part of her felt the truth in that statement. He’d rescued her. Aided them on the side of the road. But part of her just couldn’t trust any man, especially not one who swept her into his arms in dark halls and kissed her ‘til she couldn’t think.

He’d caught her by surprise, but she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

This was it, she had to tell her. Fiona could hate her forever, but she wouldn’t allow her cousin to be humiliated the way she’d been. “Fiona, last night, he kissed me and he—”

Surprise colored Fiona’s gaze but then it filled with excitement. “No,” she squirmed in her seat. “How was it? Did ye like it? Do you want him to do it again? My cousin Elspeth swears there is nothing better in the world than kissing a handsome man.”

Clarissa knew her jaw was hanging open, but try as she might, it refused to close. Then she attempted to speak but no words came out. She’d known she would have to tell Fiona. It wouldn’t be right to keep it a secret. She had played this conversation out a dozen ways on her way down to the breakfast room and not one of them had ended like this.

Fiona had gone mad. And truly there must be nothing between them because if Fiona cared for him at all, she wouldn’t be reacting so.

Before she could answer, the rake himself walked into the breakfast room. Fiona giggled and winked at Ewan.

Clarissa melted into her seat with embarrassment; the situation grew worse by the second.

Uncle Haggis gave a loud chuckle. “Nice to see you two getting along so well.” He stood and crossed over to Ewan, slapping the other man on the back. “My Fiona is quite the catch.”

Clarissa sat bolt upright again and Fiona snapped to attention as well. “Da, stop it. That isn’t what is happening at all.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Uncle Haggis replied but he winked back at them both.

Ewan crossed his arms over his chest. “Haggis,” he started.

But Uncle Haggis waved him off. “Not now, me boy.”

Clarissa wondered what Ewan might have said and why her uncle didn’t want to hear it. She looked back at Fiona. Yesterday, she’d declared her engagement to Ewan and today she was excited that Clarissa had kissed that very man? If only Fiona knew what they’d actually done.

Everyone was full of surprises today, not least of all herself. Why had she let him do it? She hated rakes, she disliked him. But when he’d touched her, he’d set her to blaze.

Her body heated just remembering their touches. She’d acted like a wanton trollop. No better than that maid or Davenport himself.

* * *

Ewan watched her across the table. She’d yet to take a single sip of tea or bite of food. Her head hung low, while her shoulders hunched.

He shouldn’t have feckin’ kissed her. She looked absolutely miserable. He’d speak with her the first chance he got, to see if he could make it right.

Fiona winked at him again and held up her hand, pointing at Clarissa. Bullocks, she’d told Fiona.

Of course she had. She loved her cousin and as far as she was concerned, she’d participated in an infidelity.

If he weren’t at breakfast, he’d slap himself silly. His head momentarily came down into his hands.

He really was spiraling out of control.

When he lifted it, she was gone.

He tried to catch her for the next three days but Haggis hadn’t been kidding. When she decided to run, she was mighty good at it.

Fortunately, he had a plan. He knew she loved to read and so he decided to camp out in the library. The rest of the party had gone out for a picnic on a rare day of sun. He guessed that she’d think him gone and finally come out of her room.

Sure enough, not twenty minutes after Keiran bravely escorted four women outside, and declaring the task of escorting four ladies on a picnic more difficult than battle, his little pixie flitted into the library.

He’d tucked himself into a corner, a subversive tactic to be sure. But he wanted her well into the room before she knew he was there. Eliminate her ability to run.

She peeked into the room and he smiled at the tentative way she looked around, missing him in the corner.

She tiptoed in and headed to the far shelf.

Silently, he got up and walked behind her. She was humming to herself as her fingers trailed along the spine of several books. “Hello.” He spoke just behind her, grinning as she near jumped out of her skin.

“You frightened me,” she chastised as she made to move around him.

His hand came to her waist, “We need to talk.”

She stopped moving but didn’t look at him. “I disagree.”

“You promised your uncle that you’d stop running away,” he responded in a soft voice close to her ear.

“I did stop running from what happened in London. And I’m not running now, but I am ensuring nothing else happens between us,” she whispered.

That made him stand straighter. “I am sorry about that. I should never have—”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Her face tightened in pain. “I love Fiona like a sister.” Her breath caught on the last word.

His tongue ached to tell her that there was nothing between him and Fiona. Colin had been silent for days and Emilia had been making daily trips to town to listen for gossip. If nothing else came of it, they’d likely tell Haggis in another week a match hadn’t been made and he’d return home. To an empty house, with only his brother for company and the few soldiers who’d had nowhere else to go. “You told Fiona what happened, did you not?”

“Not all of it, but some.”

“And what was her reaction?” He was leaning closer again, her scent drawing him in.

She looked at him then, her confusion evident. He sucked in his breath. Even more beautiful this close, he ached to kiss her again. “She seemed excited.”

“Listen to your cousin, then. And understand that we didn’t do anything to hurt her.” He couldn’t help it, his lips brushed her ear.

She jerked away as if burned. “Even if it doesn’t hurt Fiona, we still shouldn’t be touching like this. We are not courting and no gentleman would touch a lady he wasn’t married to like that.”

She had him there.

He normally prided himself on being a man who did the right thing. It had been a very long time since he’d done something so…irresponsible.

Some small part of him liked it. Perhaps Fiona’s comment affected him, but there was something satisfying about kissing ladies when he knew he shouldn’t. “There’s little harm in a touch of fun.”

Her eyes darkened and narrowed. “There is to me. I will not be laid low by another rake…I—” Her hand clapped over her mouth.

Another rake? Was that why she had run from London? Had she been ruined by a man?

A fury like he hadn’t felt in the longest time coursed through his veins. “Who?” he rasped.

But she just shook her head, biting her lip. “It doesn’t matter now. I have to do as my aunt and uncle suggested and not dwell on the past. My aunt even thinks I could look for a husband here in Scotland, but I won’t be a victim again. Do you understand?” There it was again. That vulnerable look she’d worn in the rain the first day he’d met her.

Words he’d never spoken in his life crowded in his mouth. He wanted to demand the man’s name and then cut him down with a swipe of his blade. He longed to tell her how beautiful she was and how it didn’t matter what she’d done. She was the most precious woman he’d ever met in his life.

But now was not the time nor place to say these things. She didn’t even know he wouldn’t marry Fiona.

Besides, he’d not wanted to marry an English woman even if she did make his head spin, and fill him with lust and the need to protect her.

And she’d just said she’d look for a Scottish husband. It made his chest ache with longing.

He gave himself a shake. She didn’t want to return to England now, but that wouldn’t always be true. And half her family was there. She’d have to visit from time to time. And he’d sworn never to return. He’d lost too much fighting England’s war with India, he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to take anything else.

Keeping his feelings carefully hidden, he simply replied, “I understand.” He gave her a smile and, because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed a curl from her face. Her brown lock slid like silk through his fingers. “But stop hiding from your family to avoid me. Your cousins are just on the beach having a picnic. Why don’t we join them?”

Taking a breath, she gave a tentative nod. “I’d like that.”

“Grab your book. You can read on the beach.” Forcing himself to ease away from her, he watched as she plucked a book off the shelf.

He held out his elbow and she took it, giving him a bright smile. “Such a beautiful day for a picnic.”

“Aye. It is, lass.”

But that didn’t last for very long. They hadn’t made it ten steps from the house when he noticed the black clouds on the horizon moving quickly in their direction. “Perhaps we should go back inside.” He pointed at the sky. “Those clouds are black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.”

She looked at the wall of dark clouds approaching them. “If the others are on the beach, the cliffs will block their view. They won’t see it coming.”

“Ye’re right. Let’s run before we’re drooit.” He grabbed her hand and started pulling her along.

She gathered up her skirts in one hand as they headed down the steep steps that lead them to the beach. “Which way?” she asked as they reached the bottom.

“They headed south toward the old Dunnet Light House.” He pointed right and they started down the beach.

But the clouds moved faster than he’d thought possible and the day grew dark as a clap of thunder rumbled nearby. He drew to a dead stop. He hated the sound of thunder.

* * *

Clarissa looked back, confused as to why he had stopped. Part of her wondered if he was up to some rakish business. She’d gone off alone with him, which was actually very silly considering what had happened the last time they were unchaperoned. She’d given him a lovely speech about how much she loved her cousin and how she despised rakes so why did the thought of nefarious deeds on his part fill her with excited longing?

But the expression on his face was all wrong. Rather than a heated gaze he appeared frozen in fear.

“Ewan?”

“I dunna like thunder.” He started moving again but a streak of lightning lit the sky immediately followed by another clap of thunder. He froze again, hunching down, like he might drop to the ground.

That was when he saw the rain approaching. Not just mist or even a steady drip but a deluge of water moved toward them. “There’s an overhang in the cliff.” She pointed. “Let’s take shelter.” He still didn’t move and she began tugging him along.

They reached it just in time as the driving water hit the beach. Because the storm came from the land, they were dry under the large overhang but another bolt of lightning lit the sky and Ewan dropped to the sand covering his ears with his hands.

She fell to her knees next to him and reached out her hand to touch his hair. “Ewan?” she asked again.

His response was to crawl the foot that separated them and place his head in her lap. His body shook and without another thought, she curled her torso over his face, trying to help block out the noise.

Stroking his hair, she rocked him gently as he curled his body around hers and she sang a Scottish lullaby her mother had sang to her as a child.

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,

Angus is here with dreams to sell.

Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,

For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear.

Can you no hush your weepin'?

All the wee lambs are sleepin'.

Birdies are nestlin', nestlin' taegether,

Dream Angus is hurtlin' through the heather.

Sweet the lavrock sings at morn,

Heraldin' in a bright new dawn.

Wee lambs, they coorie doon taegether

Alang with their ewies in the heather.

He likely couldn’t hear it as the storm raged but she sang it anyway, over and over as he buried deeper into her lap, his hands tightened around her waist as though she were a buoy in the storm. She wouldn’t have moved for the world, somehow comforting him seemed more important than anything she’d done in her entire life.

The rain eased and then ceased, while the thunder grew quieter and the storm raged over the sea.

But he didn’t let go. He stayed curled into her, and she didn’t move either, stroking his hair and singing softly. He’d plucked her from a moving horse, rescued her when stranded on the side of the road, saved her from uncomfortable conversation more than once. What had happened to this strong man to lay him so low?

“Are ye all right?” she asked, adopting her mother’s lilt.

He looked up at her then. His eyes still fearful but something else lit them. It was soft and yearning and it made her ache to hold him even closer. “Aye.”

He sat up, still holding her around the waist, and kissed her. Softly but it lingered as his hand slid up her back and into her hair.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “What happened?” One of her hands came up to stroke his cheek as his lips claimed hers again.

Lifting his head, he looked out over the sea. “After the war, the blasts of guns and cannons, I don’t like the sound. If I’m prepared, I do all right, but when it takes me unawares…” He shuddered.

Clarissa bent her head down, resting it on his collar, wrapping her hand around his massive chest. What a fool she’d been. Bemoaning her broken pride when this man had suffered real tragedy. “That is terrible.”

“I don’t ken what I would have done without ye, lass.” His hands were in her hair, his lips moving across her temple. She titled her chin up so that he kissed her again.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t but somehow the storm had bonded them. He needed her and sharing his fear had created an emotional connection that only increased her physical desire. When his lips touched hers, she forgot everything else in the world.

Before she even blinked, he had her in his lap, their passion instant and frenzied. Delicious sensations tingled everywhere as his hands ran over her body.

From somewhere in the distance she heard a voice and she ripped her lips from his, throwing herself back against the rock wall. Her hands came to her mouth. What had she just done?

“Don’t get upset, now.” His voice was low and soothing. “I dinna mean to.”

“I am upset…with myself.” And that was the truth about rakes. If a lady allowed herself to fall victim to one, she should learn her lesson. She was angry at Lord Davenport, but even more so, she was angry at herself for allowing him to deceive her.

She played the fool for all of London to see and she was making the same mistake again. She stood, brushing off her skirts. She had to be strong.

“Dunna be upset with anyone.” He stood too and reached for her hand, but she pulled it back. “We’re just doin what comes natural to two people who—”

“Who are what?” She turned away and saw Fiona coming toward them along with Keiran and the rest of her cousins. She lifted her skirts and started toward them.

“Why are ye lookin’ so prickly?” Fiona grinned at her.

“I do not look anything of the sort.” Clarissa stomped her foot, which was completely ineffectual in the sand.

Fiona stepped up to her and then pulled her away from the others. “He’s never going to court you unless you stop being angry all the time.”

“He’s not going to court me, he’s still considering you!” Clarissa nearly shouted.

Fiona gave her a perplexed look. “I told ye already we’re just not telling Da what—”

“Ye didn’t tell me anything. Not really.” Clarissa was near stomping again. This couldn’t be any more confusing. Because despite Fiona’s words at breakfast the other day, they appeared to be considering marriage.

“I lost me temper and told Colin Campbell I was marrying Ewan in two weeks’ time. I explained it to Colin after, but he seemed angry and I am worried that he’ll go and tell the entire village and then I’ll be ruined and embarrassed in front of everyone. Ewan’s only stayin’ around so that if it happens, I can publicly break it off with him and save face in front of everyone. Da will be furious, but it’s better than the alternative.”

“He’s saving you from public embarrassment?” Clarissa thought she might be ill. He hadn’t been untrue to Fiona at all. She hunched over, clutching her stomach. He saved her from runaway horses and broken wagon wheels. He was protecting Fiona from public humiliation.

Her arguments against him were melting and she couldn’t allow that to happen because if she did… she turned to look at him. His piercing stare pinned her to the spot. If she failed at a relationship a second time she was sure she’d never recover. She just couldn’t risk it. She had to build those walls back up.

A rake she could defend herself against. But a gentleman who had no interest in marrying an Englishwoman, what could she do about that? She’d sink under her feelings and still end up with a broken heart.

Chapter 9

Clarissa had his blood near to boil all the while she gave him nothing but cold stares and icy silence. He would catch her, when she thought he wasn’t looking, giving him intense looks of longing. It was sheer force of will that she kept up her chilly façade. That was her Scot blood. Stubborn till the end.

But now that he knew he and Fiona were not compatible, he had to find a suitable bride. He didn’t care about the dowry anymore either. It’d take work but he’d see it done. But Clarissa had underscored what he’d been feeling for a while. His life had been empty, cold, and barren. He needed someone to fill it with light. Make him dizzy with excitement.

The way Clarissa did. After she’d held him on the beach, he no longer cared that she was English. There’d be some issues to work out but they could do it.

He’d like to tell her all this if she’d ever stop throwing him icy glares. And she needed to melt soon because Haggis was growing impatient. He and Fiona had to tell him they weren’t courting because it wasn’t right to keep the truth from him. But a little voice deep down told him that if he kept up the lie a little longer, it was that much more time he got with Clarissa. Once the truth was out, he’d have to leave.

But he’d like to clear the air with Clarissa before he went. Hell, he’d like to take her with him. But he understood. He’d most certainly acted the part of rake with her, and he didn’t know how to explain that it was only her. He never normally acted so…wanton. That is to say, not for a verra long time. But he lost his senses around her.

Which was about the most fun thing that had happened to him since…well he couldn’t rightly remember, it had been so long.

Which meant he needed to speak with her again. He’d already ambushed her in the library. It was unlikely to work again.

Instead, he’d play her trick and slip a note under her door. Her’s was one of the sweetest prose he’d ever read. She’d thanked him for coming to her aid and told him how she would never forget him. It spoke of feelings she’d never expressed in person, unless kissing could be counted.

He waited till the house was quiet and hoped Clarissa was still awake. Then he slipped to her room. He jostled the door intentionally to alert her of his presence and then he slipped the note, catching the paper on the wood under the door. It made a number of scratching noises as it went and he grinned. It wasn’t so loud that it would wake the house but loud enough to let her know he was there.

A minute of silence followed and he worried she was still asleep but then the pad of her feet across the floor let him know his tactics had worked. He listened as she unfolded the paper and then nothing.

Holding his breath, he waited. Finally she spoke. “I won’t come out, Ewan.”

“Will ye talk with me at least?” He pressed closer to the door.

“About what?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, I tell Lord Ravenscraig I’ll not be marryin’ his daughter. I’d like to ask his permission to court you if you’d allow it. You don’t have to promise anything other than you’ll spend a little time getting to know me.”

Silence followed till it was near deafening. “Ewan, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I…I’m just not ready.”

His gut clenched. He’d been afraid of that. She was still too brokenhearted to see what was happening between them. “Lass, ye’re not committing to marriage. And if ye let me, I can help you heal, and perhaps you can help me too. Don’t answer now, just think about it.” He pressed a little closer. “Please.”

“I’ll think about it,” she answered finally.

He smiled, relief making his breath rush out. “That’s good, lass. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

Clarissa was feeling anything but relieved. Why hadn’t she just said no? There was no future there. Maybe someday she could entertain the possibility of marriage but she didn’t see how. There was no way she’d trust like that again. Especially someone like Ewan who made her breathless and confused.

And so vulnerable.

So why had she agreed to think about it? But she already knew the answer. Because he lit her blood on fire. She was to marry Lord Davenport and he hadn’t inspired anything even close to that. And while she’d found men handsome or appealing, it was nothing compared to how wanton she became at his touch. Which made him all the more dangerous.

She sighed. She couldn’t risk it. He muddled her mind and she’d be too open to hurt. She’d tell him in the morning that she couldn’t accept his courtship.

With her convictions strong, she fell asleep ready to stand firm the next day.

The bright morning sun further bolstered her spirits as she sat at breakfast. Aunt Judith and Agnes decided to read in the garden to take advantage of the weather and she happily agreed to join them.

Ewan was giving her his penetrating stare, the one that made her shiver with desire, and sunshine seemed the best way to burn off the nighttime longings he inspired.

Ainsley and Emilia were plotting some adventure in the village. Clarissa now understood they were eavesdropping to make sure Colin hadn’t given Fiona away. While Fiona had yet to come down, which was odd.

Uncle Haggis was at his usual position with the paper. “I know you and Fiona wanted to speak with me.” He turned, grinning at Ewan. “It would seem she’s already acting the part of a married lady. Sleeping in her bed all morning. Perhaps we can talk later.”

Clarissa watched as Ewan’s face tightened and he turned to Haggis to give a nod. Clarissa realized that Uncle Haggis wasn’t likely to take the news well. He clearly thought Ewan and Fiona had made a match. Her nerves fluttered for him but she knew he could handle himself.

Then he looked back at her. “Since I’ve no meetin’ this mornin’, may I join you lasses in the garden?”

“That would lovely, Lord Dumfries,” Aunt Judith smiled.

Clarissa’s cheeks heated. Perhaps she’d been hasty in thinking that time in the garden would give her a break from wanton thoughts of Ewan.

Sitting on a bench with her aunt and cousin, she watched the muscles of his back work as he spread a blanket down in some grass. Then he sat atop it with his book in hand.

“Care to join me?” He turned to her, his eyes holding her hostage once again.

Aunt Judith clucked her tongue and muttered under her breath, “How Haggis can still think he’s courting Fiona is beyond me. It’s so obvious where his interest lies.”

Clarissa warmed, her cheeks flaming at the words. Apparently it had been obvious to near everyone that Ewan had eyes for her and not Fiona. She’d have seen it sooner if her experience in London hadn’t clouded her judgment. She supposed Uncle Haggis had his own reasons for missing the truth.

She stood from the bench and walked over to where he sat in the middle of the quilt. She picked a corner and sat, arranging her skirts.

“Why so far away, lass?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She nibbled on her lip. “You’re dangerous, my lord.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “At this point, lass, call me Ewan.” He lounged back on the blanket, giving her even more space. “And here, in front of your aunt and cousin, I’m no danger to you.”

Oh but he was. He kept maneuvering past her defenses, his smile was doing it this very moment. Making her forget her promise to end any chance of a courtship.

Even now it whispered, what is the harm in courting? He said you didn’t have to make any promises. And that was a dangerous thought. But she made light of it. “Rakes always find a way to compromise a lady.” She knew he wasn’t a rake. But it was an easy defense now. Far easier than admitting her own fear of poor judgment.

Her resolve was weakening. With each passing hour, she grew more desperate to throw herself in his arms and forget the consequences.

He sat up again, his face going black. “Ye think I’m a rake? I’m nothing like the man who compromised you in London.”

Very true. Davenport ruined her without a single touch. Damaged goods because of rejection. Engaged couples were allowed time alone, it didn’t matter they had never touched. But Ewan, he had touched her and made no promises yet. And was not just involving her pride but her heart.

“You’re much worse.” She inched a little further away but he closed the distance between them coming as close as propriety allowed. She was trying so hard to be strong, to protect her heart but his nearness was making it hard to think.

“How can ye even say that?”

“Did you forget what happened in your room?” she whispered, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. How could he not know the effect he had on her? How she was losing her senses?

He had the decency to look abashed then. “But I’ve asked to court ye.”

“He courted me too,” she answered softly.

“Wait,” his face clouded with confusion. “Why didn’t ye just marry him? Not that I’m advocating it. But if he ruined ye, and he was courting…”

Her mouth was hanging open and he stopped, looking more confused still. He thought she’d actually been compromised. Of course, that’s what most thought, but no one had told him that she’d broken the engagement and that meant, to society, she was a fallen woman. “It wasn’t like—”

But she stopped because her Aunt Rhona came running into the courtyard, skirts held up in her hands. “Fiona is missing!”

Chapter 10

Ewan could have cursed aloud. He was worried about Fiona, of course. Though she was a lass with a penchant for fun and disregard for rules or safety. She’d likely taken herself on an adventure. But Haggis thought he and Fiona were still courting, and that did not bode well for him.

And Clarissa, she’d been about to tell him something important.

Standing, he held his hand down to Clarissa. “Should we start a search party?” he asked.

Lady Ravenscraig’s hands fluttered to her cheeks. “I’m not sure, I don’t know, I…”

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Lord McDougal bellowed across the courtyard.

“Oh Haggis, it’s Fiona. She’s not in her room. No one’s seen her. None of the servants or the girls. I’ve searched everywhere.”

Haggis levelled him with a glare. “Lord Dumfries,” he grated out.

Ewan stood straighter. “Yes, Lord Ravenscraig.”

“Where is my daughter?”

“I don’t ken.” Crossing his arms over his chest. “But I can help ye look, if ye’d like.”

Haggis glared at him for a few more minutes before finally giving his head a shake of agreement.

“Lady Ravenscraig, where have ye looked exactly?” Ewan gave Haggis one more glare before he turned to his wife.

She rattled off a list of rooms in the house that included the attic and the root cellar. But nothing outside of the house.

He gave a nod. “Assemble the staff. Let’s start with her favorite places. If that doesn’t yield anything, we’ll fan out.”

Within a quarter hour, they’d assembled all able bodies and made a list. The lighthouse, the village, the barns, and the horse fields were where they would start.

Agnes, Emilia, and Keiran went to check the lighthouse, while Haggis and two servants went to the grazing pastures.

The aunts headed off to the village while Ewan and Clarissa made for the barn. They walked silently side by side and Ewan was aware of her every movement while lost in his own thoughts. He wanted to court her but somehow, he couldn’t untangle himself from Fiona. It was maddening.

“Ewan,” Clarissa’s voice trembled slightly.

“Aye, mo chridhe?” He rubbed his eyes.

Her hand fluttered to touch his arm. “You seem worried. Do you think Fiona’s hurt?”

He swore under his breath. He honestly didn’t think she was hurt but still, he should be thinking of her rather than himself. “I think she’s fine but I am concerned about the repercussions of this day.”

“Me too,” she admitted softly. “Uncle Haggis thinks that you…”

He glanced over to see her face shadowed with worry. “I had nothing to do with Fiona’s disappearance.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you did.” She stopped, looking over at him. “Fiona would not be out of the house if you and she had been—” Her cheeks flamed pink. “But Uncle Haggis is suspicious and if he thinks you’re responsible you’ll have to leave and—”

He reached for her hand. “Ye want me to stay?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally answered. “Lord preserve me, I think I do.” She took a breath and then the next words rushed out. “I promised myself that I would tell you no but I just can’t. I’m not saying yes, but I can’t say no either…I’m sorry to be so—”

“That’s enough of a promise for now, lass.” He pulled her a little closer. “I’ve just got to make sure yer uncle doesn’t insist I marry yer cousin. I was trying to help the lass but I’ve landed in a right bit of trouble.”

“She told me what you did for her. It was verra kind.” Her body had moved closer and she was smiling up at him in a way that made him weak in the knees. When she spoke with a burr, he near lost his senses. His lips began drifting down to hers.

“Ye’re out in the open, ye know?” Fiona called from the entrance of the barn. “Are you two just goin’ around kissin’ all the time?”

“Fiona McDougal,” Clarissa stepped away from him hands on her hips. “Where have you bloody been?”

His blood heated even more as she chastised her cousin.

“What are ye talkin’ about? I just got up early and headed out to the barn for a ride.” Fiona’s cheeks colored.

“Is that why ye’re wearing the same dress as you were last night?” Clarissa stalked up to her. “It’s fine if you want to get yourself into a whole pile of trouble but yer father thinks Ewan is responsible for you being gone.”

“It’s Ewan now, is it?” Fiona crossed her arms.

“You’d better go change right quick. And don’t let anyone see you because Ewan is done covering up for you. You have to tell Uncle Haggis today that you’re not getting married.”

Fiona huffed a breath, “And why is that?”

“Do you want to marry him? If you do, then pray, continue.” Clarissa gave her cousin a furious stare.

Ewan pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. It took a lot to win an argument with a Scottish woman but Clarissa was winning.

“Maybe I’ll just tell Da you want Ewan for yourself and that’s why I can’t marry him.” Fiona was near shouting now.

Clarissa stepped even closer, her voice rising to meet Fiona’s. “And maybe I’ll tell him that you snuck into the barn to meet Colin Campbell.”

He tried not to laugh. It wouldn’t help either of the angry women in front of him. But there was a little pleasure in seeing Clarissa put Fiona in her place. That little trickster needed it.

But she was getting her due now, because her skin had gone ash white under her freckles. “You wouldn’t.”

Clarissa was right in her face. “All this time, I was so worried I was taking something from you. But you have been trying to take something from me. You’re ruining my chance to play another one of your little tricks. Fiona McDougal, you’ll come clean this instant or—“

“It’s a chance, is it?” he grinned calling over them.

“That isn’t…I mean it’s not…I didn’t…”

He approached them both. “It’s all right, lass. But don’t be too hard on Fiona. I’d likely left days ago if it wasn’t for what she said to Colin.” Putting his arm around Clarissa’s waist he whispered. “Help Fiona get into a riding habit quick. She went for a morning ride. Nothing more. Needed to clear her head because she’s decided she just can’t marry me.” He winked. “Now go, both of ye and make it quick.”

* * *

Clarissa’s feat flew down the lane to the castle as she and Fiona kept a sharp eye for any family or staff. Sneaking into the back door, they ducked into a broom closet as one of the maids came down the stairs and into the kitchen. Then they scampered up the servants’ stairs.

“Where is the habit?” Clarissa asked breathlessly, as she helped Fiona unbutton her dress. There was straw sticking to every part of her underclothing. Even in the strings of her corset. It must have been terribly uncomfortable.

Fiona raced to the wardrobe and pulled out an emerald green habit, crossing back to Clarissa. Clarissa stuck her arm up though it and hoisted it over Fiona’s head, allowing the fabric to fall into place. Twisting her cousin around, she began doing up the buttons in the back. “Are you…are you ruined?” It was none of her business but she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“Nae,” Fiona answered softly. “Swear you won’t tell?”

“Of course,” Clarissa said. “I know what I said earlier about telling your father but the truth is, you can tell me anything.”

Fiona nodded. “You can tell me anything too.” She took a breath. “I wasn’t ruined, in the strictest sense of the word, but we did things…” Fiona’s face flushed bright red.

“I understand.” Clarissa gave her hand a squeeze. “I was ruined in London for having nothing other than bad judgment. And here in Scotland, I’ve done things that would actually ruin me, but we’ll keep each other’s secrets.”

Fiona sighed. “Ewan wants to marry you.”

Clarissa wrinkled her nose. “I’m English, remember?” But Fiona’s words filled her with warmth and hope. Somehow, today when she’d thought she’d really lost him to Fiona, a decision had been made. She couldn’t let him go. She needed to at least consider this.

“Aye, and Scot too. He sees that now, I think.” Fiona looked away, her face clouding. “But I don’t know how Colin feels about me. I thought he hated me.”

“Isn’t it so strange?” Clarissa asked. “I was sure I hated Ewan. Right up to the point he kissed me and then I stopped thinking all together.” She finished the last button. Then pulling several pieces of straw out of Fiona’s hair. “You’re ready to go.”

Fiona nodded. “Meet me in the entry in five minutes. Don’t take too long. Da is going to be furious.”

“I won’t.” Clarissa gave her a quick hug. “Good luck.”

“I’ll be needin’ it.” Fiona swept out of the room.

Clarissa waited for no more than a minute and then raced back toward the barn to find Ewan. They’d come in together as though they hadn’t seen Fiona at all.

Racing down the path to the barn from the kitchen door, Ewan met her, sweeping her up into his arms. She let him, pressing her body close to his as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Were you seen?” he mumbled, as he pulled her behind an outbuilding.

“No,” she whispered as she pressed closer. “I told Fiona I’d meet her in just a few minutes. I think she’s worried how Uncle Haggis will react.”

He nodded, kissing her temple. “I just want to hold ye for a moment, lass, and then we’ll go in.” There was just a touch of sadness to his voice.

“What’s wrong?” she asked pulling back.

But he shook his head holding her closer. “Nothing yet.”

“But you’re afraid something will be.”

His hand traveled into her hair and his lips whispered over her ear. “If Haggis sends me away, all you need do is send me a letter and I’ll come for ye.”

She gasped. Her uncle wouldn’t really send him away, would he?

Chapter 11

But Ewan had the right of it. Before they’d even reached the house, they could hear Haggis’ booming voice yelling at full volume. Apparently, he was already back from searching the pasture.

And as they moved inside, Clarissa could clearly see Haggis standing, larger than life, in the entry of the castle. Fiona seemed to be doing her best to keep her shoulders straight but her face was crumpling under her father’s words. “You’re marryin’ now, young lady. I’ve had enough of your nonsense. It’s time for some other man to try his hand at taming ye, because I’m done.”

It became clear that Fiona had mentioned Ewan because as soon as he and Clarissa stepped through the door, Haggis pointed his finger at Ewan and said, “You!”

Ewan stood straighter. “Me,” he rumbled back. His gaze narrowing.

“I want to see both of ye in my study now.” Haggis turned on his heel and headed up the stairs, expecting Fiona and Ewan to follow.

Fiona raced over. “I only told ‘im that I’d decided not to marry ye. But he kept asking why in a louder and louder voice. I lost my temper and said that you were only pretendin’ because of what I’d said to Colin. That’s when the real yellin’ started. I’m so sorry, Ewan. I’ve been nothing but trouble to ye.”

Ewan waved his hand. “I’ve fought entire armies. I’m sure I can handle one angry father. But let’s get it over with, shall we?”

“Thank you, Ewan,” Fiona breathed. “You’re a gentleman and an honorable man and I’m glad to ken ye.”

With a nod, he turned to her. “Wait for me in the library.” Then he placed a quick kiss on her forehead. He started up the stairs.

Fiona turned to her and gave her hand a squeeze. “I ken ye’ve been hurt. But he’s a fine man, you’ll never find one finer. Don’t let Davenport ruin your chance at happiness.” Then Fiona dashed up the stairs behind Ewan.

Clarissa watched them go, her heart thudding in her chest. Aunt Judith, Agnes, Fiona—they all thought Ewan was the kind of man she should be with. Mayhap, they were correct. She needed more time, and time was suddenly running short. But how could she trust again so soon after being scorched by marriage?

* * *

Ewan stood as straight as a man more than six feet could as he walked into Haggis’ office. He’d let this get out of hand and he had no idea how fix this mess he was in. Because he had to stay to court Clarissa. She was trying like the devil to keep her walls up but he was chipping them away stone by stone.

When he didn’t want to growl in frustration, he had to admit that it was damn fun, chasing a woman like this. He was alive in ways he hadn’t been in years. And he realized he was in love. He wasn’t sure when or how it happened but he was. Irrevocably in love with an English lady who had a Scot temper. She was glorious.

Even this, being called to Haggis’ study, felt like living. Later, after he made Fiona pay for all of this, he’d thank her for helping him find himself again.

He sat in the chair across from Haggis and Fiona took the seat next to him. “What have you got to say for yourself?” Haggis was looking directly at him, there was no mistaking who he was talking to.

He blinked twice. He didn’t have anything to say at all. As far as Haggis knew, anyway. But he couldn’t very well blurt that out. “I’m sorry?”

“Damn right ye are!” Haggis roared. “Pretending to court my daughter all the while making eyes at my niece.”

Oh, well, there was that. He cleared his throat, trying to present some reasonable explanation.

But before he could, Fiona broke in. “I already told ye, we don’t want to marry. Never did. He was just trying to help me—“

“He wasn’t helping you, he was giving himself more time with Clarissa,” Haggis fired back.

Fiona looked at him quickly in question but then she answered. “That’s not true. It was only the second day. He and Clarissa had barely spoken. You can’t take away honorable actions, Da.”

Haggis tossed his hands in the air, but didn’t respond. He simply glared at Ewan, then at Fiona.

Ewan sat silently under Haggis’ accusing gaze. He wouldn’t cower but he’d not provoke the other man.

Finally Haggis spoke. “Fiona, in a few weeks I am to attend a meeting of lairds. We are to discuss the use of land and other issues facing our region. You will be in attendance with me and you will leave with a name or names of men you are interested in pursuing.”

“What?” Fiona’s voice trembled.

“You heard me, lass. Ye’re near twenty years old. It’s time. I tried to be reasonable but ye’ve given me no choice. If ye don’t pick, I’ll choose for ye and it will be done.” He waved toward the door, dismissing Fiona.

Ewan’s stomach gave a little jolt. Haggis was not a man to trifle with under normal circumstances. But if he were that harsh with Fiona…

“Have you noticed we both still call ourselves McDougal?” Haggis’ eyes swung to him. “In England, I’m Ravenscraig and you are Dumfries. But here we’re McDougal because that should mean something. I trusted ye in my home because your kin is my kin, your clan tied to mine.”

“Haggis,” he started out but Haggis cut him off.

“Fiona is a fine woman, unruly, but a true Scot. She’d have made you an excellent bride. I don’t know why—”

“I fell in love.” Ewan looked him in the eye, because the truth meant something. And in this moment he realized the depth of feeling he had for Clarissa. “I didn’t want to. I blamed the English for dragging me off to a war I didn’t care about. The last thing I wanted was an English bride but…” He took a deep breath. “I love Clarissa.”

Glaring at him across the desk, the old laird gritted out, “You were here to court Fiona.”

“I know. But Fiona isn’t interested in me any more than I am in her.” He shrugged, hoping that Haggis would understand. “She’s a fine woman and she’ll make some man a fine—”

“I don’t want yer platitudes,” Haggis practically spit. “I’m not getting any younger. I’ve been having these pains, ye ken? And my daughters, they need to be married because I dinna have an heir.”

Ewan’s hands raked through his hair. He couldn’t blame Haggis one bit. He wanted to make sure his daughters were properly settled. “Who would see them to the alter?”

“My nephew, Ulrich. He’s a good enough boy, but he’d use a hacksaw to do a needle’s job, ye ken? I don’t trust him to provide for the girls’ future.”

“I can help, if ye’d like. With the girls. I know it isn’t the help you wanted but…”

Haggis eyed him over the desk. “If I die before they’re married, will ye see the job done? I’ll take care of Fiona, she’s the hardest. Emilia is no trouble at all. Ainsley, she’s spirited, but men already delight in her company. She’s got this way about her.”

Ewan tried not to grimace. He didn’t want to help the girls find husbands. But then again, being with this family was bringing him back to life. And Haggis was likely fine. “You’d trust me with yer daughters? Are ye sure?”

The other man nodded. “Ye did a good turn for Fiona, keeping her reputation untarnished. And you’ll be good for Clarissa. She needs ye, even if she’s not ready to admit it.”

“That means a great deal—” but a cry echoed through the old stony castle and it had him on his feet in a second. He didn’t know how he knew, but it was Clarissa who’d made the mournful sound. He was sure of it.

“Go son, I’ll catch up,” Haggis bellowed and Ewan didn’t even stop to look before he raced out the door.

* * *

The note she’d been holding slipped from Clarissa’s hand as the cry rent her lips. She hadn’t meant to make that sound out loud.

It was just so absolutely awful that she didn’t know what else to do. The butler stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.

Her eyes cast down at the paper as if it might bite her if she took her eyes from it.

A hand gently touched her back. “What is it, lass?” Ewan’s gentle voice washed over her and relaxed her muscles enough for her to point toward the note on the floor. She wanted to curl into him and seek shelter in his strength and heat.

He picked it up and scanned the contents, his serious face growing darker with each passing word. “Like bloody hell,” he growled as he finished reading the letter.

“What am I going to do?” she shuddered. Just today she’d thought she was done grieving and was now healing. A future was emerging from the mist of grief and with a few words on paper, a new beginning disappeared again.

“What do you want to do?” His voice was quiet, soothing, and more importantly, it was the first time anyone had asked her that question. She relaxed further taking several deep, cleansing breaths. Her heart swelled at his kindness, his understanding that this was her life and her decision to make.

“I never want to see him again,” she answered first.

“That is going to be a wee bit difficult, but it can be arranged, if it’s what ye really want.” He hesitated searching her face. His mouth open and shut as though there were more he wanted to say but he didn’t. Instead he waited for her.

Giving him a grin, she reached for his hand. She knew he wanted to tell her not to run but he didn’t. Her parents loved her but they never trusted her to decide for herself. Another reason she was angry. They’d chosen a husband and they’d chosen wrong. And she’d just let it all happen. “You’d really do that? You’d help me run away again?”

Her heart swelled as she looked in his eyes, some of her fear at giving her heart melting away. Ewan was forever rushing in to rescue her as only a hero could.

His eyes crinkled in a grin. “It wouldn’t be so much running away as it would be running to… you’d be running to me lass, and to our future.”

Her eyebrows raised even as her lips parted in a smile. But her other hand came to his. “And if I don’t run away? If I stay and tell him that I’d rather die a ruined spinster than look at his face ever again in my life?”

“Then I’ll stay with ye, lass. And I’ll help ye be strong. But you have to keep your promise to let me court ye after. Ye might decide to be a spinster still but I want that chance.”

She nodded her agreement and, to her complete amazement, a light happiness she hadn’t felt in weeks spread through her body. She was happy even though her mother had written to tell her that Lord Davenport was on his way to Scotland this very moment.

She was happy because Ewan was going to first help her stand up to him and then he was going to court her and she might even marry him or she might not. But for the first time in her life, the choice was hers.

No wonder she’d been so angry with herself. It wasn’t just that Lord Davenport had humiliated her, it was that her parents had set it all up. It had felt like a betrayal. She’d allowed it to happen too. Swept up in the excitement of marrying a marquess. Ridiculous.

Then she’d run away to Scotland. But Haggis had been right, it was time to stop. She squeezed Ewan’s hand and stared into those deep green eyes. Did people really gain their independence by beginning a relationship? She did. Thanks to Ewan. He asked her what she wanted and gave her room to make choices.

She wanted to kiss him. But her uncle was coming down the stairs and the butler was still staring at them. But she had just realized Ewan might just be the perfect man for her. He was bringing out the part of her she’d felt deep inside. The piece that was strong, independent, and fought for what she wanted.

“What the devil is goin’ on?” Haggis bellowed as he came down the steps. He looked tired.

The butler stepped forward, holding up his silver tray. For the first time, Clarissa noticed there was a second letter.

Her uncle reached the bottom of the steps and plucked the letter off the tray. He ripped it open and began reading. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Your mother has been corrupted by your egit of a father.”

She nodded. “In this case, I have to agree.”

“Did you read your entire letter, lass?” Ewan flipped it over.

“No, I only read the first paragraph.” She released his hand to take the paper and then unfolded it.

Dearest Clarissa,

Your father has granted permission to Lord Davenport to visit you at your aunt and uncle’s house in Scotland. Your father fancies that this was all a misunderstanding and that if the match is given a chance, could still work. At the very least, Lord Davenport would like the opportunity to apologize and try to make amends.

We will also be joining you as soon as we can. But until we get there, you must be strong. I’ve seen it in you, you’ve got real Scottish spirit. I know we’ve sheltered you beyond what we should have, and that you’re suffering from it now. I’m sorry I didn’t better prepare you for this moment but it’s time to stand up, my love.

Your aunts, uncle, and cousins will help you. But you must decide what you want and then you must stand firm. If Davenport is your heart’s desire then so be it. But if not, then it’s your time to be strong.

I will see you very soon.

Your loving Mother

Clarissa read it twice through and then a third just for good measure. “She thinks I’m strong.” She hadn’t been acting that way for the past month. But it was time to face what had happened. She looked in Ewan’s eyes, her head tilting up. She wanted to throw herself in his arms, but she couldn’t now.

“Not many lasses stand in the rain helping to fix a wheel.” His fingers brushed hers again. “Or sing a man through a thunderstorm.” He gave her a soft grin. “Or play the pianoforte ‘til everyone in the room is brought to tears.” Then, in front of her uncle, he leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. “I know ye’re strong and spirited. Ye can do this.”

“Ye can,” Uncle Haggis added quietly, for him anyway. “I’m glad ye’re no’ runnin’ lass. Adressin’ your past will help ye embrace the future.”

She smiled, a grin that spread from ear to ear. “I agree.” With her family around her, she would bravely face the man who had wronged her and then she could turn to the future.

Chapter 12

Three days later, in the midst of a steady drizzle that suited her mood perfectly, Clarissa watched as a gilded white carriage, one she’d recognize anywhere, travelled up the long drive toward her uncle’s castle.

Her family was all gathered around her, as were Ewan and Keiran.

Ewan gave a low whistle. “That’s some carriage,” Ewan’s tone was begrudgingly appreciative. “Rich and titled. No wonder your father wanted him to marry ye.”

“Not rich,” Clarissa shook her head to emphasize her point. “He’s come to grovel, but not because he wants me.” Bitterness like bile filled her mouth. Ruined without even being touched. Now she was acutely aware of how a man who wanted her acted and she knew Davenport never had been interested in her. Only her dowry.

“What do you mean?” Ewan’s voice had an edge that she didn’t understand.

“He’s spent all his money on pretty carriages and lavish parties. Gambling and women too, if the rumors are correct.” She hadn’t looked at Ewan yet, her eyes focused on the carriage and six coming up the drive. But one hand reached for him, as her other hand rested against the glass. She leaned her forehead closer to its rain-spattered surface. She wanted to see him, before he saw her. It would help her face him. “He needs an infusion of coin or he’ll have to start selling all his pretty things.”

“And he’ll get that money by marryin’ you?” Ewan had stepped closer and his hand had come to her waist. She relaxed at his touch, their bond growing stronger with each passing day, though they hadn’t discussed marriage again. They were developing a relationship.

“Yes.” She pressed her cheek to the cool paned surface, watching as a footman jumped down from his seat to open the door.

“I told her to tell ye she had a fat dowry, but she’s stubborn,” Fiona groused good-naturedly.

Agnes leaned over to him, “They whisper among the ton that it’s the biggest in all—”

“Agnes,” Clarissa chastised. Her eyes were glued to the man stepping out of the carriage. Her heart beating wildly, she squeezed Ewan’s hand tighter. It was firm and warm in her grasp.

“Well, they do. Is it? The largest dowry in all of England?”

Clarissa waved her hand dismissively then rested it back on the glass. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t gone around asking all the heiresses in London about their dowries. It just isn’t done.”

“I wish you’d told me sooner, lass,” Ewan’s quiet voice was strained and tight.

She turned then. “Why? Does is change the way you feel about me? Wanting to court me?” In her mind, she screamed, I can’t do this without you. Please don’t leave me to face this alone.

“Of course not.” He pulled her into a rough hug in front of her entire family. “But it changes how we deal with him. I didna realize he’d be so desperate. Perhaps we should have run after all.”

“Too late,” she whispered, her heart more full then she could have imagined possible. With Ewan by her side, she could do anything. Even face Davenport.

* * *

The way she was smiling up at him, it made his breath catch like a feckin’ woman. But there was a light shining through her eyes he’d never seen before and it near made his head spin. He knew he was in love with her but when she looked at him like that, he could dare to hope that she loved him too.

Yes, he wanted to help her overcome her past, but it was workin’ on ‘im too. His life had color that had been missin’ for a verra long time.

If Davenport, that feckin’ egit, thought that he was taking Clarissa away from him, well…he was sorely mistaken.

The front door swung open, creaking as it went, and the family rose, knowing it was time to assemble in the entry.

Haggis went first followed by the aunts and then Fiona and her sisters. Clarissa was next and Ewan fell in just behind her with Keiran at the very back. He turned to Keiran and gave him a long stare.

Keiran gave a nod in return to show that he understood. This was war and he’d best be ready to do battle.

The Marquess of Davenport did not have a clue what he was up against but this was Ewan’s home country and that dandy of a lord with his fancy carriage was about to face a soldier who’d just risen from the muck of war.

Squaring his shoulders he fought the urge to grab Clarissa around the waist and carry her off to the nearest church for a weddin’. Only his promise to give her the choice held him back because that primal Scot that lived inside was clawing to take over and take his woman before this man could even look at her.

But he held firm and kept his hands at his sides even as they twitched to wrap around Clarissa’s waist.

Davenport walked through the door, shaking off his riding cloak and handing the wet garment to a valet.

Ewan almost barked with laughter. Slender and fair, the man was almost womanish. Ewan thought he’d be meeting an opponent. One good Scottish wind should blow this horse’s arse back to England. He heard Clarissa swallow, and looking over at her saw that she had paled considerably, her eyes wide with fear. He murmured some inane words of comfort, inching closer so that his shoulder was just behind hers as they stood in line. Davenport’s eyes swung to him, giving him the once over. He stood straighter, looking down on the man who was surely a foot shorter than himself.

Introductions began and Ewan forced himself to remain still as Davenport bent over Clarissa’s gloved hand. “My love,” he murmured, as he made to kiss the gloved skin. Ewan jolted at the endearment. Those were words for him alone to say to Clarissa.

She took a half step back, as though to retreat, and bumped against him.

One corner of his mouth drew up at the contact, a physical reminder of her preference. His hand came to the small of her back to further settle her.

The three of them were mere inches apart and the room crackled with anticipation. Davenport still held her hand, while Ewan kept his fingers and palm on her back.

“What brings you to Scotland?” she asked Davenport, clearing her throat.

“You, of course.” He gave her a wide practiced smile. “I was miserable without you.”

She sniffed. “I was miserable because of you.” Then she withdrew her hand from his. “You’ve come a long way for nothing.” Then her shoulders straightened. “I’m already engaged, to Lord Dumfries.”

Ewan quirked one eyebrow, a happy grin sliding his lips apart. It was his second fake engagement in a fortnight.

Chapter 13

Uncle Haggis paced in front of her. “What possessed you to go and say that?” His voice boomed in its usual way.

Clarissa shrugged. “It just fell from my lips. He looked so smug and I just wanted to wipe that smarmy expression off his face.” She turned to Fiona. “It was so satisfying.”

Fiona winked in return. The family had retreated to the sitting room while Lord Davenport rested from his travels.

Emilia looked less convinced. “But Fiona almost had to marry Ewan so as not to be ruined.”

Clarissa waved her hand. “I’m already ruined. It makes no difference now.”

“Or we could just get married,” Ewan rumbled from the corner.

Excitement swelled in her chest but she pushed it back down and shook her head. “We’re only courting, remember? I won’t marry for my reputation.” She meant it. More and more, she could see that Ewan was her future but she wouldn’t rush the decision for the sake of society.

“But you could be saved,” Agnes pointed out.

Clarissa stood then and crossed back to the window. Her heart was hammering in her chest but it wasn’t fear this time. It was something different entirely. Excitement, power, love. “Saved from what?” She turned to them again. “I don’t care what they think and I’ll likely never go back anyway. And I’m not running anymore.”

Ainsley shrugged. “Then why did you tell him you were engaged? You should have just told him to fe—“

“Ainsley McDougal,” Haggis growled.

Clarissa nodded. “Ainsley’s right. I will tell him that I just don’t want him to know that I’m not actually engaged.” In a way she was running again, but in her defense, she couldn’t get marriage to Ewan out of her mind. She thought his words, running to their future.

Ewan’s voice was low and menacing. “No, lass. Tell him you don’t want him. Tell him you hate the very air he breathes. But also tell that dandy that your very large, very war-hardened fiancé will use every bloody torture maneuver he learned on the battlefield to break all the bones in his tiny little body if he dares to show his face in Scotland again.”

She grinned. “I thought I was supposed to be standing up for myself.”

“With my help,” he added, his eyebrows raising as though that should have been completely obvious.

Her smile spread wider. The idea had real merit.

That evening’s dinner was significantly less painful than Clarissa thought it might be. Davenport was ridiculously attentive though his eyes kept drifting to Ewan, who stared daggers at the marquess the entire evening.

Clearly, her former fiancé had no idea what to do with a new fiancée and seemed to be ignoring the fact entirely, opting instead to try to make amends with Clarissa.

Though attentive, Davenport had always looked through her rather than at her. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much that had undermined her confidence. To always be trying to hold the attention of the man who would be the most important in her life.

By contrast, Ewan was aware of her every move, cushioned every fall. Now it was her turn to barely pay attention to Davenport. Her body hummed with a need she hadn’t thought possible and it was all for her laird.

And her eyes clearly showed where her attention lay, because she could hardly peel them away from Ewan.

“The season has been so dull without you, my love,” Davenport sighed.

“Did London run out of maids?” Fiona asked as she took a bite of her meat pie.

Aunt Rhona gasped, “I’ll send ye to yer room.”

Davenport had the decency to turn a bright shade of red. Too her amazement, Clarissa did not feel the slightest twinge of sadness or shame. Instead she had to hold back a laugh.

But then the marquess straightened his shoulders. She had to give him credit, he knew that her entire family was aware of what he’d done and he still sat at their table. It took some kind of bravery to endure that.

Clearing his throat he looked to Ewan then back at her. “When last I spoke to your father, he wasn’t aware you were engaged again.”

That stilled Clarissa’s fork. At twenty, she still couldn’t marry without his permission. Did she lie again? Give some version of the truth? Ignore him altogether?

But Haggis spoke. “As her next male kin, I’ve agreed to the match by proxy.”

Davenport looked puzzled. “It is his decision to make.”

“It is not. It’s mine.” Clarissa, having managed to untie her tongue, gave him a glare.

“Not by English law—”

“We’re not in England.” Her voice was soft but determined. For many reasons those rules didn’t apply. First, because she didn’t care about them any longer and second because she was fairly certain, as Ewan hadn’t known about her dowry ‘til today, his offer to court was not tied to receiving the coin. In Scotland they were free to marry. Her father’s only play would be to withhold the dowry, but Ewan wouldn’t care about that. Would he?

“Thanks be to God for that,” Ainsley added.

Davenport pursed his lips but remained quiet, for which Clarissa was grateful.

As the party moved to the music room, however, it was clear that he hadn’t given up. As she walked up the stairs, he caught up to her. “Please hear me out,” he whispered frantically. “We could be happy together, Clarissa. I know I made a mistake, but if you could find it in your heart to give me another—” He ended the last word with a whoosh of breath and then stumbled on the steps.

“Excuse me, Lord Davenport,” Ewan’s rough voice sounded anything but sincere.

Davenport smoothed his cravat. “Of course, Lord Dumfries,” his icy voice bit out.

But he remained silent as her cousins entertained them with the pianoforte. But his eyes wondered to her often, try as she might to ignore him.

Ewan was also quiet, but tense as a strung bow. At one point he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “I canna wait to toss him out on his arse.”

The feel of his breath on her ear sent shivers racing down her spine and she leaned closer giving him a glowing smile. “Me either,” she whispered back.

Having an ally had turned this dreaded event to an almost amusing evening. Subtly, she reached over to touch Ewan’s hand and he clasped her fingers. “I won’t let him hurt you, lass. I swear it.”

She believed him. And the protective circle he’d created around her made her desire him all the more.

Chapter 14

Clarissa paced her room, unable to sleep. She’d thought that Lord Davenport’s presence would remind her of all her past hurts. But nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, his visit had amplified her feelings for Ewan.

His strength and protectiveness had wrapped around her like a warm blanket. And the desire, it was a raging inferno that made her ache with longing. Every subtle touch, every protective maneuver stoking the flames.

She bit her lip. She’d agreed to courting, but that could be weeks, even months. Then there was engagement. The season had been about to begin in London and a wedding was to be at the end. It might take a year for her and Ewan to marry, if she agreed to marry him at all.

And, he’d likely have to return home at some point, meaning they’d be separated. Her heart ached at the thought.

She didn’t want to think any more about what might happen or how she might be hurt. She just wanted to feel Ewan’s strong arms about her again.

Putting on her dressing rob, she creaked open her door. Without a real plan in mind, she started down the hall toward Ewan’s room.

Every creak made her jump, afraid she would be caught. But those little thrills made her want to laugh out loud. Finally, if caught, she would be ruined for actually doing something.

She reached Ewan’s door and it was silent within. She bit her lip. What if she knocked and he didn’t answer? What if she woke up someone else?

Screwing up her courage, she gave a tap on the door and then softly called, “Ewan.”

In mere seconds he yanked open the door and pulled her in. He was shirtless and his kilt was twisted around to the side but before she could even ask, his lips were on hers.

Kissing her over and over, his tongue plundered her mouth. She groaned in delight and then snaked her hands around his neck and into his overlong hair. She’d grown quite fond of it, she realized with a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as his hand brushed open her dressing gown, his hands circling her waist.

“Your hair.” She laughed again. “I thought it was rather rakish, but it turns out, I quite like it.”

“It isn’t rakish,” he growled out. “Davenport’s perfectly trimmed hair is rakish. He spends all his time grooming himself and buying pretty things. I spend my time tilling fields and repairing crofters. I haven’t time to trim me hair.”

“Oh,” she lay her head on his chest. “No wonder I like it so much.” She lifted it again and bit her lip as she looked at him. “So you’re not a rake after all?”

“Only with ye…” he muttered, capturing her lips again. “Ye bring out a side of me I thought long gone.”

“You make me feel things I didn’t even know were possible,” she replied, breathless from the wanting.

Lifting her, he pressed his hand into her behind, holding her up as he massaged the flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and immediately the ache between her legs intensified as he pressed his manhood against her sensitive nub.

She groaned again her head tossing back, and his hands ran from her shoulder to her buttocks and back again as though memorizing her curves. How had she become so wanton so quickly?

“Lass.” His ragged voice penetrated her haze of passion. “I don’t think I can stand the wanting again. As glorious as it is to see ye finish.”

Her lips found his and she kissed him with every ounce of her passion and longing. “I want it all.”

He looked tortured as his hand grabbed her derriere and pressed her closer. They both moaned at the contact. “Are ye sure, mo chridhe?”

“I’m already ruined, Ewan.” She gasped as one of his hands travelled up her side and skimmed her breast.

He gave her a curious look. “What’s strange to me is that there’s no passion between you and Davenport. How did he convince ye to—”

But she didn’t want to talk and so she kissed him to stop his words. She’d explain later.

This time there were no rules about beds or clothes and so he carried her over to the mattress and lay her down, moving with her so their bodies were still pressed together.

“Oh my,” she breathed out. “I’d thought I’d miss standing, but that is so delicious.” He began trailing kisses down her neck, rubbing against her most sensitive flesh and using his hands to slowly lift the hem of her night rail.

Once the fabric cleared her hips, she sat up and he pulled it off in one clean motion. She hadn’t a thing on underneath and now she lay naked before him. She’d wanted this and she wouldn’t be shy now, but part of her was insecure to be so exposed.

His hand trailed lightly down the middle of her chest, running between her breasts. “You’re stunning, mo chridhe. Better than I imagined.”

And then he was on top of her again, his lips pressed to hers, then sliding lower to capture first one breast and then the other. Her breathing was ragged as she arched and moaned and writhed with the need building inside of her. His fingers began to lightly brush her sensitive folds. Pleasure was making her dizzy with desire as she held onto his back, grinding closer. “Please,” she begged for a release she knew he could give.

“With pleasure, mo chridhe.” And then his kilt was gone and his manhood was pressed against her opening. In a swift move, he pushed past her defenses but she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much and she cried out.

Hands that had been holding him close began pushing him away as pain exploded in a tearing, ripping feeling.

“What in the bloody hell.” He grimaced and pulled out of her.

She sighed with relief as the pain subsided. “Is it always like that?” she asked.

Ewan stood up and grabbed his kilt yanking it on. The lines of his back taut with anger. “I thought you already knew the answer to that.” His clipped tone rigid with anger as he stomped to the window.

All at once, she realized he had thought she’d actually been compromised. “Ewan,” she gasped. “I was ruined. Just like Fiona would have been. But we never actually… mean I didn’t want to…but of course if we’d married we would have… That is to say, he never inspired the passion that you do. I never imagined in my life to feel the way I do when I am with you.”

She saw him soften. “I would have done it differently if I had known, and most likely not ‘til we were married.”

Marriage was a conversation for tomorrow, now she just wanted to touch him, be touched. “We have now. Show me how it can be.” She propped her herself up on one elbow and beckoned for him to return to the bed. Even in the moonlight, she swore his eyes darkened with desire.

He moved slowly back toward her until he was standing above her, the moonlight at his back. It highlighted how large a man he was. Her body ached again, but with anticipation rather than pain. “Show me,” she repeated.

His kilt dropped to the floor and now she could see why it hurt so much. He was amazingly large even down there in a way that frightened and excited her. She licked her lips and she heard his soft groan. “I can’t take much more, lass.”

Then he was on top of her. His hands were everywhere, stroking, rubbing, building her passion. And then his finger slipped inside her and it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was delicious and her hips began a slow rotation to wring every ounce of pleasure from the digit.

When he removed the finger, she made to protest but he silenced her with a kiss and then the tip of him was slowly, carefully pushing her open. As he inched inside, she stretched, and while there was a small amount of pain, it was tolerable, and to her surprise it mixed with a rather pleasurable pressure that only increased the further he slid inside of her.

“Are ye all right?” his strained whisper rasped in her ear.

“Yes, oh yes,” she breathed.

That was all the encouragement he seemed to need to slide out and then back in. To her immense surprise it was so satisfying that she longed for him to do it again. Which he did, over and over till they were climbing to impossible heights. She held his neck, her nails digging in ‘til she couldn’t stand it and in another second they were raking down his skin as she fell over the edge.

Even as she shuddered and moaned, his climax roared through him and his spasms melded with her own.

* * *

Ewan looked down at the woman in his arms. Stunning. How could she have been so passionate and never been with a man? It didn’t matter, he supposed. She’d been with him now and in his mind that meant they were marrying.

He’d promised Clarissa time to heal and to sort out her feelings and he would try to be patient. It had taken war, and a deep yearning for home, to make him want a family.

He could see all the signs. She’d been overprotected. Her parents making every decision and now she wanted independence. A chance to make her own choices. Somehow he’d have to figure out a way to make marriage her idea.

But for now, he was going to secret her away into his bed every chance he got. He’d have to be more careful to keep her from getting pregnant. She needed time, and he’d give her that. Provided he could get rid of Davenport. That man was a plague upon them all.

How could the man not see what a jewel he might have had if he’d been a little more careful? And he wasn’t talking about her dowry. Now that he’d had her, he didn’t care about the money at all though he’d set out to marry a woman of means. But he’d found something far more valuable. A woman who eased the ache and made him feel alive again. He’d figure out the rest as it came. The important part was he loved her.

“Clarissa,” he rasped as he moved to the side and pulled her body close to his. She was already falling asleep. “How long do we have ‘til you’ll be missed in your room?”

“Mmmm,” she roused herself giving him a sleepy smile. “Not for hours.” Then she snuggled closer to him. “Can I stay for a little while?” she asked even as she began drifting to sleep.

“You can stay forever,” he whispered back. Then he closed his eyes and pressed her closer. He made a vow to himself, he’d do everything in his power to see that she did.

Chapter 15

Just before dawn, Clarissa became aware of a rocking motion. She wondered briefly if she was on a ship but then realized Ewan was carrying her down the hall, yet again.

Somehow, she was in her night rail and robe. He gave her a soft smile as her eyes fluttered open. “Good mornin’, my sleepy little pixie.”

“Pixie?” she grinned.

“I guess I only thought it to myself but ye’re magical and always flitting away from me.” His grin spread.

She had done a fair bit of pushing away. “Were you a hunter before the war?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass.” His eyebrows raised in question.

“Then you weren’t put off by having to chase me a little?” She bit her lip to keep the grin from spreading too wide.

He gave a soft chuckle. “I rather enjoyed it. But now, I find I’d rather have you caught firmly in my bed.”

Her body heated at the thought of being in his bed again. “Oh, I like that idea.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss the skin just below his ear. She felt him shiver at the touch. “Do you like it enough to come back to Castle Dumfries with me, lass? I can’t be gone for too much longer. My people need me.”

“How would I do that?” she asked tilting her head back to look at him.

He gave her a knowing grin. “Let’s see if we can come up with a plan, shall we?”

She gave a nod and reaching her door, he set her down. Kissing her softly on the lips, he whispered, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” And then he was gone.

Happiness had her practically floating into her room. She snuggled down into the bed, remembering every touch from the night before.

He was right. She had to find a way to be with him because she did not want this to end.

Still grinning, she went to breakfast already planning her escape to Ewan’s room that night. But she stopped, standing stone-still at the top of the stairs. Her parents stood in the entry.

It was as though she’d been dipped into the cold ocean. At once she realized it hadn’t just been London she’d run from but her father as well. She was angry at him for his part in this and afraid of what he still wanted from her.

Her father looked up to see her standing atop the stairs. “Clarissa,” he called smoothly.

Her mother turned and raced up the steps to greet her. “My lamb,” she shouted as she lifted her skirts to clear the steps.

“Mama,” she choked as she opened her arms to her mother. Her mother stepped into her embrace and wrapped her arms around her. It was at once comforting and disconcerting because her parents’ presence changed both her relationship with Ewan and her interactions with Davenport.

Her father followed her mother and wrapped his arms around them both. “We’ve missed you while you’ve been away.” The smoothness in his voice was gone, replaced with a rougher quality, almost as though he were near tears.

“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, then pulled out of the embrace. She loved her parents and she knew they wanted what was best for her. But they were not in agreement as to what that might be. She still ached from their part in her humiliation.

In addition, she’d announced she was engaged to Ewan. She couldn’t tell them she’d made it up, he hadn’t actually proposed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. She and Ewan were most certainly moving toward a future. Would her father demand she break her ties with Ewan? Force her to comply? Nerves fluttered in her chest.

“Did my letter arrive?” her mother searched her face as she asked.

“Yes, as did the additional guest.” Her face pinched.

Her father stepped closer. “Has he spoken to you? Apologized?”

“He’s tried,” she answered evasively.

“Clarissa,” her father’s voice held a note of warning. “You should at least listen. There isn’t a better match for you in all of England. He’s a marquess—”

“And a rake,” she never interrupted her father but her voice cut through his like a hot knife through butter. “Mama, would you put up with such behavior?”

“No, never,” her mother answered.

“Papa, it was at our engagement ball. That is a man with no scruples. You will have to drag me to the alter. Even with a knife to my throat, I wouldn’t say the vows.” Her back straightened with every word. Uncle Haggis was right. No more running, it was time to make a stand.

Besides, she knew what it felt like to truly care. And now that she had experienced that, she couldn’t go back to what he would have with a man like Davenport. She couldn’t settle for anything less than love. Love? Did she love Ewan?

“I agree, lass,” Ewan’s brogue was soft as he spoke from just behind her.

She turned and gave him a glowing smile. Then turning back to her parents, she said. “Mama, Papa, may I introduce you to the Earl of Dumfries?”

Her mother gave him a warm smile as she curtsied in greeting. Her father’s head cocked to one side as though sizing up the other man. “You were in London last season.”

“Aye, I was.” Ewan seemed to stand even straighter.

“Awarded a title for bravery and battlefield prowess.” Her father’s look only intensified.

Ewan gave a nod.

“I recall your company was quite sought after,” her father said and Clarissa blushed at the implication. Ewan was titled, single, and verra handsome, as Fiona would have said. Of course he had been popular.

“I suppose,” Ewan answered.

“But you’ve yet to marry?” her father asked.

It was Ewan’s turn to give an appraising stare. “I’ve someone in mind but I need to speak with her father, first.”

Ewan turned to her so that her parents could only see half his face and then winked. While she wanted to make the final decision, Ewan was wise to seek her father’s approval. And something in her was shifting. She didn’t feel as resistant to marriage.

Davenport was the problem, not the institution itself. It would be easier to open up to someone like Ewan. Someone who would return her affection and not give it to every passing maid.

“I wish you luck with that,” her father murmured, turning away. She tried to read his expression but it was carefully concealed. When he turned back to her, he had a warm smile in place. “Let’s finish this discussion after breakfast.”

With a nod, Clarissa linked arms with her mother and they started down the stairs and to the breakfast room. Clarissa would make sure to eat a hearty breakfast, she’d need the fortification for the discussion that was about to ensue.

As they entered the room, her eyes met her uncle’s. She deliberately walked around his side of the table and softly whispered, “No more running.”

“That’s a good lass,” he softly responded.

Thankfully Davenport hadn’t joined them and Clarissa tried to decide which might be worse. Finishing the meal and having to speak with her father, or dragging her feet eating and risk having to see Davenport.

Ewan sat across the table from her, and she felt his boot brush her slipper. A smile touched her lips and she relaxed slightly. It would all work out.

His feet played with hers for most of the meal. As she neared the end of her eggs, his boot began to slide higher up her calf and onto her thigh. His eyes locked with hers across the table.

“Lord Dumfries,” Haggis called out. Ewan’s foot dropped. “We’re havin’ a meetin’ in a few weeks to discuss what best to do with the land. Lots of lairds are bringin’ in livestock rather than farmin’. Ye’re welcome to join us, if ye’d like.”

“It’s an interesting topic to be sure. But I’m not sure how much longer I can stay away from me own land. Can I think on it a day?”

“Of course,” Haggis answered.

“What brought you to Ravenscraig in the first place?” her father asked.

Clarissa tried not to wince. It wasn’t a favorable story that he’d been courting her cousin.

“He’s family, distantly speakin’,” Haggis answered.

Clarissa hurried through the rest of her meal. She needed to speak with her father about Ewan, but it was a conversation best had with a bit more privacy. “I’ll meet you in an hour, Father,” she murmured.

“No need, I have had enough. We’ll speak now.” Then he rose too, and with a nod, headed for the door.

Taking a breath, she glaced toward Ewan. She could do this.

But it grew infinitely more complicated as she stepped out of the breakfast room because Davenport had been about to enter and the letch was furiously whispering in her father’s ear.

Some small part of her wanted to turn and go back to the safety of the dining room or retreat to her room. But the strength in her was growing so instead, she stepped up to the two men. “A secret I should know about?”

Davenport eyed her with a coldness that shouldn’t have surprised her. Of course he had no feeling for her, but he had, after all, wanted to marry her and so she started at his frozen face. “No secret. I was telling him about your recent engagement.”

Crum. He father turned, looking livid, and motioned for her to follow.

She straightened her shoulders and walked by Davenport, head high despite the quaking of her legs.

Her father turned into the library and without a word, seated himself in the center of the room and then motioned for her to take the chair next to him.

It was as though she were a child again, about to get scolded.

She tried not to sigh, it wouldn’t help. While she dreaded this moment, she wouldn’t marry Davenport.

“A marquess is much better than an earl.” Her father’s plain-spoken words took her by surprise.

She blinked a few times to recover. “Even if you hate the marquess and he’d make you absolutely miserable?”

“There is that. But if you don’t marry him, who else might you marry in England? You’re not actually thinking of leaving the country permanently?” Her father’s pleading tone softened her response. This was a different conversation than she expected to have.

“I might. But if Queen Victoria can spend her holidays in Scotland, why can’t you?” She gave him a small smile.

“And Lord Dumfries. Are you considering his suit?” Her father didn’t look at her as he asked, which seemed odd.

“I am considering it,” she shrugged. She wasn’t lying.

“Then why is Lord Davenport under the impression you are already engaged?”

A blush stained her cheeks. “I am already ruined so what does it matter if I am ruined twice?” she asked.

His moment of confusion was quickly replaced with anger. He leaned forward, his voice rising. “You were lying to Davenport? Why would you tell him you were engaged when you weren’t?”

“I don’t care what he thinks just so long as he leaves.” Her own voice was rising.

Her father blinked back his shock. “You never speak to me like this.”

“I trusted you to do what was best for me,” she spit out. And suddenly she understood that even more than Davenport, perhaps even more than herself, she was angry at her father. “I’m actually glad he was caught tupping the maid. It saved me from a terrible life. But you’ve put your ambitions before my happiness in a way that would have destroyed any chance at happiness.” Her breathing was coming in short gasps. “Ewan would like to marry me. But how I can trust him with my happiness when I can’t even trust my own father?”

Then, without another word, she rose and left the room.

Chapter 16

Anger coursed through her as she stomped through the house. Climbing the stairs, she started toward her room but realized she couldn’t be confined to such a small space. She needed the outdoors. Passing her room, she continued down the hall to the back stairwell and out the kitchen door, taking the lane that led to the barn.

The clouds kept the sun at bay but no moisture fell from the sky. She had the sudden urge to ride. Not a big beast like Fiona had put her on, but a gentle mare. Feel the air and watch the scenery. She wasn’t even dressed for it but none of it mattered now.

“Clarissa,” Ewan called behind her. “Where are you going?”

She spun around, the sound of his voice somehow invoking the tears she hadn’t even been aware she was holding back. “I needed a few minutes alone.”

“I can leave if ye’d like, lass.” His eyes were gentle and understanding and she appreciated that he asked. That he worried what she might want.

And she found she didn’t want him to go at all. “Stay with me.” Her voice was breathier than she’d intended, a need filling it that she didn’t mean to express. But suddenly, she wanted to touch him again. Feel his hard strength. It would wash away her anger and her fears.

With a nod, he took her hand and started leading her toward the path to the beach. He was moving quickly and her skirts tangled. For a sickening second, she was falling but he planted both hands on her waist and lifted her to keep her upright and untangling her skirts in the same smooth motion.

She grabbed his wrists as he held her in the air and when he gently set her down, she kept holding on because his skin against her own both soothed and excited her senses.

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her to his chest, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve missed ye, lass.”

She grinned. “I missed you too, though it seems ridiculous to say as it’s only been a few hours since we were in bed.”

At the word “bed,” he swung her into his arms and carried her down to the beach. She rested her head on his chest as he easily moved, despite her additional weight. “You don’t have to carry me,” she murmured.

“You’re light as a feather.” He kissed her forehead then nudged ‘til her lips were facing up to his to plant a gentle kiss. “It will give you a chance to tell me what has you so upset.”

She sighed. “I knew I was angry at Davenport and embarrassed to face society. I even understood that I was upset with myself for allowing it all to happen, but I didn’t understand how livid I am with my father. He’s supposed to be the one who protects me.” She stopped before she admitted that it made it difficult for her to trust anyone else.

He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m not one to tell ye what to do but I can say, Fiona might be a wee bit angry with her da too. He tried to force a marriage on her she didna want.”

She huffed a breath. “He wanted to see her safe and in a good match.”

“Exactly,” he answered.

She looked up at him as she pondered the statement. Uncle Haggis had not taken his error to the ridiculous lengths her father had, trying to repair an engagement that had made a fool of her in front of all of London, but they did share some commonalities. Their fathers had wanted to see them matched without taking their feelings into account.

They’d forgotten their daughters were grown women and not little girls capable of understanding themselves. “But why does my father persist?”

They’d now reached the rock cliff where’d they sheltered from the storm. He ducked under the lip giving them some privacy and shelter from the wind. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap. “It’s within your father’s right to insist on the match. It’s because he loves you that he’s listening at all. Try to be patient and explain it to him again.” Ewan kissed her lips as she realized the truth in his statement.

His mouth started trailing down her neck. She wound her fingers up into his overlong hair pulling on the strands. “You’re right. I need to be patient and try to stop being so angry.”

He smiled against the skin of her collarbone. “Take it from me, anger will cripple you. Keep you from making good decisions for yourself.” His hands were undoing the buttons in the back of her dress and the fabric fell forward revealing more skin for him to kiss.

“What good decisions has anger kept you from?” she asked, her breathing growing more rapid as his lips kissed along the top of her breast.

“It almost kept me from pursuing you,” he whispered as he pushed the fabric of her chemise aside and lightly kissed the peak of her nipple.

Her head fell back as she arched toward him. “How do you know courting me is wise?” She could barely get the words past her lips, her head was swimming with desire. But she pushed through, needing to hear his answer. She was desperate to understand how to choose the right path. Because in this moment she wanted him to be the best choice.

“You ease the ache in my heart, lass. Ye’re making me feel whole again.”

* * *

He continued to kiss her chest, pulling the other side of chemise down. He told himself it didn’t matter if she didn’t respond but part of him was holding his breath. Because he couldn’t lose her now. The pieces of his mangled heart were just fitting back into place.

“You ease the ache in my heart too,” she whispered, her hands pulling his hair. “I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”

Relief and joy had him resting his forehead on her chest for a moment before his hand reached for the hem of her skirt. Then he was sliding it up under the layers of fabric, along with her pantaloons to the slit opening at the top. Pushing the fabric aside, his hand lightly brushed her folds and her body jerked in response, her hips bucking toward him. Her hands were pulling at his hair in an almost painful grip but he loved it all the more as he brushed against her again with a little more pressure.

The moan that escaped her lips made him pant with desire as he began to massage her sensitive bud.

Heat radiated off her as she writhed in his arms. His own desire straining to be released. She’d only left his bed a few hours before but that seemed to have stroked the flames between them rather than dousing them.

“Ewan.” She gasped his name and he nearly came undone.

“Mo chridhe,” he groaned. Her body was tensing and tightening underneath him and he had the sudden urge to taste her, know every part of her. Lowering her to the sand, he lowered his head until it was fitted between her legs.

It didn’t take more than a flick of his tongue before she was coming undone, gasping for air, crying his name into the wind.

Holding onto her hips, he kissed his way back up her body, nuzzling her neck. Even with all her skirts between them, her legs wrapped around his waist.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he brushed a tendril of hair back from her face. “You want choice, mo chridhe, and I want you to have that.”

“Thank you so much for understanding.” Her lips found his, her hips rubbing against him till he wanted to cry out in frustration and desire.

“Which is why I can’t be inside you again. The more times we do that the more likely I am to plant a seed in your belly, lass,” he whispered in her ear.

“A baby,” she nearly cooed and he smiled to himself. He was winning this war slowly but surely. He’d make her his.

“Not now, though, lass. It’s not the way we want it to happen.” He was pulling her dress back up onto her shoulders but she lightly pushed him away, a smile playing on her lips.

“If it did already, what will we do?” She didn’t look upset, only curious and so he answered honestly. “We’d have to marry, lass. I won’t have my bairn be a bastard.”

She gave another nod. “I agree.” Her eyes traveled down his body and stopped as they landed at the juncture of her legs. “Does that mean we have to stop this?” She pointed between them.

He gave a rueful grin. “There are other things we can do, I suppose. Like what I just did for you.” He wanted her to want to marry, but he didn’t want to push her away.

Smiling still, she bit her lip, her hand resting on his bare knee. “Do you wear anything under that kilt?” Her hand began travelling up his thigh.

“You know I don’t,” his voice rasped out as her hand reached his inner thigh. And then she was touching him, softly exploring his manhood in a way that was innocent and wicked all in the same breath.

“It’s so soft,” she murmured making his breath hiss out. Dimly he was aware that snow had begun to fall despite it being early May. A lambing snow, was what is was called, but soon bright colors behind his eyelids made him forget all about it as his body heaved to completion.

Gathering her closer, he peppered her face with kisses as she trailed her hand along the contours of his chest. “So strong,” she murmured, sounding terribly sleepy.

“Ye can’t fall asleep, love. We’ll be missed if we don’t go back.” He kissed her eyes, then her nose.

She gave him a sleepy smile. “Let’s stay here forever. Just the two of us.”

“I know the perfect place for just the two of us,” he whispered as her body relaxed further. He’d win her over. But he’d do it with kindness, love, and caring. And in the end, she’d be his because she wanted to be.

“I think I’d like that.” She nuzzled her face into his neck then.

“Are ye sayin’ what I think ye might be? You’ll return to Dumfries with me?” He used a finger to look in her eyes then.

“Yes,” she murmured, her body fitted to his.

“Will ye be my wife?” His lips pressed to her ear, softly imploring her to say yes.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He gathered her closer still and held her tight to his chest.

Chapter 17

The next day, Clarissa sat reading in the library. She hadn’t slept much again last night, Ewan having snuck into her room before she’d even had the chance to make it to his.

She grinned at the memory. Oh the things they’d done. Beautiful, wicked things. He’d said he was a rake for her alone and, not only did she love that, but she found herself more wanton than she’d ever been. But only for him.

He was right, of course. He’d have to return to his home and she didn’t want to be without him. The decision was fast approaching and she knew where her heart wanted to be. With Ewan. And so she’d tell her father that she’d decided to accept Ewan’s offer.

The door opening startled her slightly and she looked up from her book she’d barely been reading. Lord Davenport stood before her, looking impeccably groomed as always. A ridiculous image of him attempting to tup the maid without mussing his hair made her near giggle. She held it back.

“I’ve come to say my goodbyes,” he announced. “I’m leaving on the morrow.”

She gave a nod, unsure of what to say. Thank you for visiting or come again seemed untrue and inappropriate so she settled for, “I wish you all the best.”

“And you as well,” he replied stepping closer and nerves fluttered in her belly. She had hoped that would be the end.

He took a breath. “Which is why I must implore you one last time to consider my suit.”

“Lord Davenport,” she started, wanting to end this conversation before it began. Even without Ewan, she wouldn’t marry Davenport, but Ewan made her that much stronger.

“Call me James.” He gave her a pointed look. “I know you fancy yourself in love.”

“That has almost nothing to do with why I won’t marry you.” Why deny it?

“I never lied to you, Clarissa. I never pretended to have feelings I didn’t or misrepresent what I wanted from you.” His eyes were piercing as he leaned forward.

She took a steadying breath. “That is all well and good but it doesn’t change what happened.”

“Arranged marriages have an understanding.”

“Does that understanding include humiliation in front of all of English society?” Her voice was rising.

His face spasmed into something that appeared to be regret or pain. She didn’t care. He deserved to hurt. It wasn’t even close to how he’d hurt her. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. Most ladies wouldn’t have disobeyed their father as you did.” To her shock he ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it considerably. “And you’re right, of course. I can’t take it back and, unless I find another bride with a suitable dowry, I’ll likely be ruined for my misstep as well.”

She caught her breath then. To sell off his belongings would most certainly be an equivalent humiliation. Her face softened and her anger eased. “You’ll find someone. There are plenty of ladies more aware of the trade they would be making if they married you.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. “You’re still making that trade, Clarissa. That is what you need to understand.”

She stared at him in complete confusion, wondering what on earth he was talking about. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dumfries is smarter than me. I’ll give him that. He’s appealed to your heart and, most likely, to your body. I thought I only needed to win over your father. I didn’t understand your spirit.”

“He….he…didn’t even kn-know I had a dowry,” she stuttered out. But a sinking dread pulled at her stomach.

His face scrunched in disbelief. “Of course he knew, everyone knows. Is that what he told you?” he shook his head and his eyes rolled heavenward. “I wounded your pride, Clarissa. I admit it freely. But when you discover he was just after the coin, he’ll break your heart.”

She sat stunned into silence, willing herself not to cry. Not in front of him of all people. Part of her wanted to stand up and cry out her denial while another was forced to admit it was a possibility. Ewan needed money, he’d made no secret of it and all of England knew about her dowry. Ewan wouldn’t trick her like that would he?

He took advantage of her silence to take her hand and place a soft kiss on it. “You can still change your mind. No matter what you’ve done with him, we have an understanding.”

Before she could answer, tell him how ridiculous a marriage based on an understanding of infidelity sounded, he stood and was gone.

If Davenport hadn’t been paying attention to her in London, he certainly had been in Scotland, because he had undoubtedly found her weakest point. She was afraid that no man would love her more than he loved her dowry. That it was the most attractive thing about her and if she entered a relationship, she’d undoubtedly find that the man she’d fallen for did not return her feelings.

She’d known Ewan needed money to repair his lands after being gone. No wonder she’d been so resistant. In her heart, she’d always been worried that it wasn’t her he wanted at all.

Chapter 18

She stayed in her room for dinner that night, not wanting to see anyone. Clarissa knew she was hiding again. But her conversation with Ewan needed to be private and she was a terrible liar. Her feelings would be written all over her face.

Finishing her tray of food, she set it in the hall and then paced around her room. The house grew quiet but sleep eluded her.

Around midnight a soft knock came at her door. “Clarissa,” Ewan called.

She bit her lip. Taking a breath, she tiptoed to the door. “I don’t…I don’t feel well.”

She heard his swear softly. “I shouldna have kept ye outside for so long, lass. Do ye have a fever?”

He was blaming himself? Guilt rolled in her stomach. “No, I’m fine, really.” She clasped her hands together. “I just need some rest, that’s all.”

“Let me check on ye, lass, to be safe. I hate to think—”

“No,” she said a too loudly and much too fast. She thought she wanted a private conversation with him but the truth was, she just wanted more time to sort out her feelings. “I…I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He was silent for so long that she crept closer to the door to see if she could hear any sound. Was it possible he’d left?

“Clarissa, open the door.” The volume of his voice startled her, he was no longer whispering, and she jumped back giving a little cry.

“I can’t…I mean I shouldn’t…You wouldn’t want to fall ill,” she fumbled hurriedly.

“Open the door now, or I’ll pound on it ‘til I wake the entire house.” His voice rumbled with anger and she paused for only a second before rushing to the door.

As soon as the latch slid over he pushed it open and then quickly closed it. Clarissa might have been afraid, allowing an angry man into her room, but Ewan would never hurt her.

His eyes scanned up and down her. “What the devil is going on?”

Her eyes drank him in too. His strength, the broad chest, strong arms, and chiseled jaw, his overlong hair.

Some part of her wanted to rush into his arms and forget her fears. Seek comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

“I…I… just didn’t feel well and I…” She looked away, not making eye contact.

He moved closer then and she could smell him. His fresh, manly scent that filled her with longing. “You’re not tellin’ me the truth. Out with it.”

She gave a nod, breathing in his scent, drawing strength from it, but still not looking at him. “I wanted to know if you knew about my dowry when you arrived to court Fiona.”

She heard him suck in his breath, could actually feel him tensing. “I didna.”

“Everyone knows about it,” she answered but it sounded foolish repeating Davenport’s words here in front of Ewan. She looked at him then, because the truth would be in his eyes.

“Well, I didna.” His eyes were narrowing. “What does it have to do with anything?”

Didn’t he already know? Was he lying? “You came here looking for an heiress. Fiona told me so.”

His eyes widened and for a moment, pain spasmed across his features before he masked them again. “Ye think I only want yer dowry?” his voice held a soft, dead calm that frightened her more than his anger would have.

She stepped closer, her gaze imploring him to understand. “I can’t be fooled again, Ewan. It would destroy any hope I have left.”

“But after what we’ve shared, I can’t believe you still don’t trust me.” He turned away and stepped to the window. Raking his hands through his hair, he crossed his arms over his chest.

Fear was bubbling inside her. She thought this was what she wanted but looking at him now, she wasn’t at all sure about what she was doing. When he wasn’t there it was easy to doubt but with his large frame filling her bedroom, her only thought was to throw herself in his arms and beg him to kiss her into oblivion. “I love you,” her voice sounded strange to her own ears. “But I’m afraid.”

He turned then. Every line of his body was hard as stone. “That just isn’t good enough. I’ve been trying to be patient but ye doubt me at every turn. How can we build a life on that?” His voice was growing louder with every word.

She shook her head. “Please don’t be angry. I don’t want to doubt.”

“I could marry ye anyway, lass, and hope that my love wins ye over.” His tone sounded deflated and he scrubbed his face with his hands. “But what if I dunna?”

“Please…” she said because in this moment, she didn’t know what else to say. And then she threw herself into his arms.

In that moment she realized that he felt like home. His chest was under her ear as his strong arms wrapped protectively around her. One of his hands snaked up into her hair and tilting her head back, his lips crashed down on hers.

It was a desperate, passionate kiss that was made more achingly beautiful by the threat of loss. Her lips clung to his and his arms wrapped more tightly around her.

He pulled away first, lifting his head. She stood on tiptoe to keep from breaking the contact but all too soon, his lips left hers. “I have to go.”

Her heart thumped wildly. But tomorrow would be a new day and then she could think about how to make this better. Because now that she was losing him, she realized that they belonged together. “We can talk in the morning. I’ll find an excuse to slip away.”

“Lass, I didna mean I needed to leave your room. I meant I needed to leave Castle Ravenscraig.” His arms slipped from her waist back to his sides. “This has gone too far already and if I let it go any further…”

“No.” She stepped back. “Why would you need to leave?”

“If ye think I can fake that kind of feeling, I’m not sure ye know me at all.“ It was his turn to look away. “I know ye’re trying to protect yer heart but ye’re breaking mine in the process.”

Covering her mouth with her hands, she looked at him, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Don’t say that. Of course I know you and I would never—” But she stopped. Because Davenport had told her, he’d never meant to hurt her. That didn’t mean he hadn’t.

He didn’t say another word but she heard him walk across the room. Heard the door click open, swing out, and then snap shut.

She didn’t move for several seconds, her eyes closed. She was afraid that if she took even a single step, she’d shatter, never to be put back together.

Chapter 19

Never in her life had she cried so much. She’d slept for a few hours between tears. She was dimly aware that the sun had risen and breakfast had come and gone. In a way Davenport had been right. This time her heart was involved and it hurt so much more than wounded pride.

What made it all the worse was it was her own fault.

A soft knock sounded at the door. She thought to ignore it but her mother’s voice called from the other side, “May I come in?”

Dragging herself out of bed, she crossed the room and slid open the lock. Swinging the door open, her mother stared at her for a moment before sweeping into the room and folding her daughter into a hug.

If she’d had any tears left, she’d have cried again, but all she could do now was rest her head on her mother’s shoulder. Clarissa’s voice caught as she mumbled, “I’ve ruined everything.”

“I doubt it. But tell me what’s happened.” Her mother smoothed her hair and led her to sit on the bed.

Without explaining how she’d allowed Ewan into her room unchaperoned, she told her mother how she’d questioned Ewan’s motives and how he’d left.

Her mother gave her a sad smile. “That is difficult.” Her mother sighed. “Do you truly think that’s why he asked you to marry him?”

Clarissa shrugged. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I just can’t allow another man to humiliate me.”

“And how do you feel about him?” her mother’s voice was soft and her look questioning.

“I love him. I never want to be—” she stopped. She was going to say that she never wanted to be without him. She really had made a mash of this entire situation.

“Darling,” her mother held her hands. “If he only wanted your dowry, how do you think he would have responded to your accusation?”

Clarissa paused. If what he wanted was her money, he would have assured he wasn’t in search of a dowry and married her at the first possible moment. Instead, he’d been so hurt, he’d left with no bride and no dowry at all. “Oh mother,” she gasped.

“It’s not too late, darling. He only left an hour ago.” Her mother pulled her to her feet.

“Go after him?” she asked. Her mother nodded, squeezing her hands.

“But father?”

“You let me take care of him.” Her mother was already pulling her up and crossing to the wardrobe.

“He’ll be on horseback and I’ll be in a carriage, how am I going to catch him?” But she started dressing.

“He’ll have to stop at some point.”

Nodding, she pulled the cord to summon a maid. “Keiran hates the rain. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will start.”

“It’s Scotland in spring. Of course it will. There’s a tray outside your door, eat something,” her mother called as she pulled out a sturdy gown for travel.

Within forty-five minutes, she’d jumped into the carriage, Agnes accompanying her as a companion. Uncle Haggis said they’d likely stop at the Cock n’ Bull Tavern and Inn in Kirkcaldy for the night since they had gotten a late start. Apparently Keiran had been difficult to convince to leave.

If they weren’t there, the ladies were to turn back to Ravenscraig. Her Uncle Haggis would arrange a proper escort to take them on the four-day journey to Ewan’s home in Hawick.

Her father had been terribly upset by the arrangement but, true to her word, her mother had pulled him aside. Someday, Clarissa would have to ask her what she said.

It was near sunset by the time they approached Kirkcaldy but it was already dark, a storm was brewing. An eerie quiet fell, and Clarissa was near holding her breath. Nervous anticipation was building inside her while a sort of energy filled the air.

What if he wasn’t there? What if he was and he rejected her apology? Her hands fisted in front of her mouth, dread pooling in her stomach.

Just as the carriage rolled into town, a rumble of thunder rattled the carriage. Clarissa gasped, because she knew what thunder would do to Ewan.

The driver needed no encouragement to whip the horses faster and soon the Cock n’ Bull came into sight just as the sky opened up and poured. “Head inside,” the driver yelled. “I’m just gunta get these horses in the barn.”

With a nod, Agnes and Clarissa made a dash for the inn but the rain soaked them in the minute it took to reach the door.

Excellent, she groaned to herself. I’m to look like a drowned rat when I try to win back Ewan.

* * *

Ewan sat in the tavern nursing his third ale. He was near the fire, but the warm crackling flames did little to improve his mood. And the ale was doing nothing to quiet the ache in his heart or the thoughts ravaging his head.

The room was crowded and people chatted happily all around him but he’d been silent for hours and though Keiran was next to him still, they’d barely spoken since leaving Ravenscraig.

Keiran had told him he was a dimwitted fool for leavin’. With some distance from the castle, he was beginning to think Keiran had been right and he was being foolish. He hadn’t listened then, but maybe now he should.

“Earlier,” he grunted to Keiran, “when ye said I was bein’ a fool, what did ye mean?”

Keiran stretched in his chair, next to Ewan. “Ye’re sure ye want to hear this?”

Ewan gave a nod.

“I know she hurt yer pride, questioning yer motives,” Keiran started.

“I gave her my heart, and she wanted to know if I was only interested in her money.” His voice was louder than it should have been. He took a breath.

“She’s just been hurt, ye ken. Agnes told me what happened to her, and I can’t believe she came as far with ye as she did after that.” Keiran stopped, looking over at him.

He was busy staring into his ale. Because he’d told her he’d be patient. And the first time she didn’t step forward, but stepped back, he’d cut and run.

“It’s like you with thunder, ye ken?”

“I dinna ken.” He winced because despite his denial, he had a feeling he did ken.

Keiran cleared his throat. “Ye understand it’s not a cannon. But when you hear the noise ye’re mind takes ye back there. I think that is what it must be like for Clarissa. She knows she can trust ye, but some things, they just spook her, even when she understands they shouldna. She’s been broken too and she’s tryin’ to fix it.”

Ewan’s head found his hand. Because he was a fool.

“What do I do, Keiran?” His eyes were squeezed shut.

“Go back, and tell her ye’ll wait as long as takes for her to be ready.” His friend’s hand rested on his shoulder.

He gave a nod but then another sound caught his attention. Thunder rolled in the distance. He stood like a shot. “I’ll just head to my room,” he muttered.

“Are ye sure ye want to be alone?” Keiran stood too. “The sound might be more muted here with all the other people and the fire goin’.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me.” He turned then and started for the stairs. As he made his way to the front of the inn to access the staircase, the front door flew open just as another crack of thunder made him freeze in fear.

Just as quickly it closed but his eyes were too glazed to see anything as he stood, motionless.

Suddenly cold hands were pressed to his cheeks. He blinked his eyes several times and looked down to see Clarissa staring up at him. “Ewan,” her soft voice hesitated as a question filled her eyes.

“I need to get to my room,” he grated out, his breathing shallow.

“Who are ye, then?” someone asked from his left.

“I’m his wife,” Clarissa answered. “Could you tell me what room you’ve assigned us please?”

Ewan didn’t hear the answer but he knew he was being led up the stairs. Leading him to the bed, she gently pushed him down to sit on the edge. She began singing and he shuddered as she moved away.

“Come back here, lass,” he choked out.

Her song halted but her voice was gentle. “I’m near soaked through, I’ve got to take off my cloak at least.”

That brought him back to attention. His eyes sharpened and focused on her. Wet hair hanging down her back, her cloak was drenched. Despite the thunder still rumbling outside, he stood and whisked the wet fabric off her shoulders. Her gown was also soggy in spots and his fingers steadied to undo the buttons.

She was soaked to the bone and still caring for him. He kissed her forehead as the last button gave and whisked her into his arms, throwing back the covers and laying her in the bed. Climbing in next to her, he pulled the blankets over them and snuggled her close to his body. “Are you too cold, lass?”

“I’m fine, really. I haven’t been wet that long. How are you?” She tipped her head back and those eyes stared up at him with that look that had captured him from the first.

“I’m perfect now that ye’re here.” And then he took a breath. “I’m sorry I left, lass. I told ye I’d be patient and I—”

But she covered his mouth with her hand. “The fault is mine. You’re right. We can’t build a relationship if we don’t trust.”

Pulling her hand aside, he captured her lips with his. “We’re getting married, lass.” He murmured between kisses.

“Yes,” she breathed back though it hadn’t been a question. His hand travelled down her corset to her backside, which he pulled in tight to him.

“I’ll wait longer if ye want, but if ye’ll have me, we’ll have the ceremony performed tomorrow. Right here in Kirkcaldy.”

Bringing her hands to his cheeks, she pulled away to look into his eyes. His heart near beat out of his chest as he waited for her answer. “I’d like that.” She gave him a glowing smile.

Ewan barely noticed the storm that raged outside. If she could overcome her fears then so could he.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he started on the strings of her corset. He couldn’t be gentle or artful as he yanked at them. He just wanted to feel her skin.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem to mind as her fingers reached under his kilt. “Mo chridhe,” he gasped as her hand grazed the already swollen flesh of his manhood.

“Take it off,” she panted as she came up onto her knees on the bed to pull her chemise over her head.

In seconds they were both undressed and he dove back into the bed, wrapping her in his arms.

The feel of her skin made him groan and it was joined by her own sound of pleasure. “Oh, Ewan,” her lips were on his face, his neck, and her hands were tangled in his hair. “I love you. I’ll never doubt again.”

Wanting to be closer to her, he settled between her legs and found her already wet and ready for him. Sliding inside of her, his hands combed through the wet strands of her hair. “I love you too, mo chridhe.” He kissed her lips as she pulled him closer.

“Let’s never disagree again,” she gasped as he moved inside her.

He gave a laughing groan. “But making amends is so satisfying.”

They stopped talking as the pace grew quicker and the passion built. They kissed over and over as their bodies moved together. She would be his, forever. It made him near lightheaded as they neared completion, their breathing and bodies moving as one.

The rhythm became more erratic as did their kisses until Ewan felt her squeezing him so tightly, he could barely hold on and when she cried out in release, he fell over the edge, groaning out his climax.

Never had it been like that. So complete. He lay to her side and pulled her into his arms. “I have to tell ye that I was going to return to the castle tomorrow.”

Clarissa tipped her head back to look at him, her sleepy eyes assessing him as she gave him a soft smile. “Oh, but I had to come here and surrender to you. I’ve lost my heart, you see, and so now I’m your prisoner.”

“Surrendering to the laird are ye?” His body was suddenly not sated at all but began tightening again. “What shall I do with such a delectable prisoner?” He began trailing kisses down her body.

She giggled, but lay placid in his arms. “I am sure you’ll think of something.”

“I already have. I surrender to you too, mo chridhe.” He reached her nipple and gave it a gentle suck. Her gasping breath told him she wouldn’t be sleepy for much longer.

A knock at the door startled him. “Who is it?” Ewan called gruffly.

“We need to head back to the castle,” Keiran called.

“It’s late,” Ewan answered exasperated.

Keiran pounded on the door again. “There are no rooms for Agnes. Unless ye want her in with you, we’ve got to go. I’ll not have an innocent in my charge.”

“Then give her your room and sleep in the common room.”

“With the pickpockets?” Keiran sounded totally agitated, which was unlike him.

“There are no thieves in the inn.” Ewan was trying not to be completely irritated. He had the woman he loved naked in his arms.

Keiran pounded louder. “I’ll get the innkeeper. Tell him ye’re not married.” That got Ewan up. Tossing the covers over Clarissa, he rose from the bed and, pulling on his kilt, crossed to the door.

“What the feck is wrong wit ye?” Ewan gave him a glare. “This is not how brothers in arms treat one another.”

Keiran had the decency to look ashamed. Then he hissed out a whisper. “It’s Agnes. She is so blonde and pretty and she goes around looking down her nose at me fer not bein’ as noble as ye.” Keiran ran his hands through his light brown hair. “I want to throttle her when I don’t want to kiss her.”

Ewan bit back a smile but it was difficult. Because the signs were all there. Agnes was as innocent as they came so Keiran was right to worry. He’d end up married with one toe out of line. But then, Clarissa would have her cousin on the bordering property. “If we go back tonight, Clarissa’s father could keep us from marryin’. I mean to have the deed done in the mornin’. I don’t want to wait.” Ewan reached out and clasped his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just one night.”

Clarissa called from the bed, “Is Agnes all right?”

“She’s fine,” Ewan called back. “Keiran will make sure she is well cared for and safe. Won’t you, Keiran?”

Keiran gave him a glare but, throwing his hands up into the air, turned and left.

Clicking the door closed he leaned his head against it. It wasn’t fair what he was asking of Keiran but he needed Clarissa to be his. And he knew Keiran was a man of honor. He’d not do anything he shouldn’t. Then again, Ewan considered himself a man of honor as well, and look how he was acting. Love made a man mad.

When he returned to the bed, Clarissa barely moved. Only the rise and fall of the blanket let him know she was alive and well. “He’s gone.” Ewan whispered.

When she didn’t answer, he pulled back the blanket. There she was, flat on her back, sound asleep.

Slipping off his kilt, he snuggled up next to her. Never more comfortable, he fell fast asleep.

Chapter 20

Clarissa woke with the sun, aware of several things instantly. In addition to being snuggled against Ewan, warm and comfortable, she was famished. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.

For a moment she battled dueling urges, one to stay there forever, the other to fill her empty stomach. Before she could decide, the hand resting on her belly slid up her body, coming to her cheek. “It’s our wedding day.”

Her smile nearly cracked her face. “It’s so exciting, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Where’s the lass who was afraid to commit?”

“I trust you, Ewan.” She turned to lightly kiss his lips. Just then her stomach gave a rumble to protest.

“What’s that, then?” he asked, glancing down at her stomach.

Blushing she held her hand over it. “I was trying to catch you and I neglected to eat a few meals.”

Kissing her lips again, he pulled back the covers and lifter her out of bed. “Let’s get you dressed and down to breakfast.”

When they arrived downstairs, Agnes and Keiran were already there, Agnes blushing and looking flustered and Keiran with a scowl. It deepened when he saw Ewan.

“I trust you slept well,” Ewan asked Keiran.

“Barely a wink. I was busy keeping our young charge safe.” Keiran near growled.

“I’m not that young. Almost eighteen!” Agnes replied hotly.

Clarissa blinked. What was going on?

Eating as quickly as her empty stomach would allow, they set off for the local church. Joy bubbled inside Clarissa. Now that she had given her heart over fully, she couldn’t be happier.

The priest was sleepy but welcoming as he ushered Clarissa and Ewan to the front while Keiran and Agnes stood to the sides to bear witness.

He had them sign several papers and then gave them a nod. “Please join hands.” The priest pulled out a ribbon and began to wrap it around their interlocked fingers.

They each repeated their vows, Ewan grinning as he said, “I promise to love, honor, and cherish ye for the rest of yer days.”

Then the priest laid his hand on top of their bound ones. “These ribbons represent a binding before God that can never be broken. You belong to each other for the rest of your days.”

Ewan leaned over and kissed her and she longed to melt into him. She closed her eyes and tried to savor every moment of their first kiss as man and wife.

And then the priest was unwrapping their hands and sending them on their way to begin their new life together.

A part of her desperately wanted to return to the inn and spend days alone with Ewan. But she had to return Agnes and she needed to speak with her parents. While her father had allowed her to leave, it was no guarantee that he would sign over her dowry to Ewan.

They did return to the inn but only to collect the carriage and horses. Clarissa and Agnes climbed into the buggy while Ewan and Keiran got onto their horses.

As soon as the wheels set in motion, Clarissa was on the other seat. “What happened last night?”

Agnes made a face at her. “Besides you leaving me with the most unethical laird in all of Scotland?”

“He didn’t, I mean you didn’t…” Clarissa grasped Agnes’s hand.

Agnes’s frown deepened. “Of course not. He’s not interested in me like that. He just didn’t want to give up his room. I told him if he was any type of gentleman, he would. What man doesn’t help women stranded on the side of the road or—” Agnes tossed herself back on the seat. “Why wouldn’t he be interested in me? I’m pretty enough. I don’t have a title, but I’ve a decent dowry. Not like yours, of course, but still.”

Clarissa bit back a smile. “But you wouldn’t want a man who couldn’t be a gentleman anyway.”

“Of course, not,” Agnes huffed. “He’s just dreadful.”

“I thought Ewan was dreadful too.”

Agnes lifted and eyebrow. “It isn’t even remotely the same. Ewan was always chivalrous and kind.”

Clarissa shrugged. “I didn’t think so, but I was too emotionally close to the situation to see it for what it really was.” She didn’t want to be too obvious. Agnes would have to discover the truth for herself.

They approached Ravenscraig just after the noon meal and Clarissa tried to calm the queasy churning of her stomach. Just before the drive, the carriage came to a halt and Ewan snapped open the door. “Are ye all right, lass?” he asked, holding his hand out to hers.

She took it and nodded as he gently pulled her out of the carriage. “Just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He held her hands as he kissed her forehead. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

“I know my mother approves but my father…” her voice trailed off. “What if he withholds my dowry?”

“We have each other, we’ll get by.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

She tried to return it. “What if he never speaks to me again?” Her hand shook a little in his. “I’m angry with him but I still love him.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, lass.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ll do everything I can to make it right with him.”

“You won’t give me up, will you?” she asked, a little fear trickling into her voice. Now that she’d almost lost him once, she knew she couldn’t again.

But he pulled her into his embrace. “Anything but that.” His lips whispered down her cheek. “Ride with me up to the castle. There will be no separating us then.”

With a nod, he swung up on the horse and then reached down, easily lifting her up. Settling her sideways in front of him, he settled her close to his body. She leaned her forehead on his chest, arms around his waist.

The steady beat of his heart calmed her own into a more normal rhythm. For a moment she relaxed and her eyes drifted closed.

But the sound of her father’s voice made her head snap back up. Roughly he called, “What is the meaning of this?”

She lifted her head, her eyes narrowing on her father. The rest of her family stood slightly behind him but she only looked at him. Now that she was in the moment, or perhaps because she was in Ewan’s arms, she wasn’t nervous anymore and she wouldn’t run. “Hello, Papa.”

The calm of her voice seemed to take him aback. “You were supposed to return last night.”

“There was a terrible storm. We had to stay.”

“And Agnes?” An accusation was apparent in those two words. While Clarissa no longer had a pristine reputation to protect, her cousin did.

“My lord,” Ewan swung down from the horse, holding her in his arms. Gently setting her to the ground, his hand still wrapped possessively around her waist. “The inn was full so I gave my room to the ladies and Laird McKenna and I shared.”

Her father leveled Ewan with a stare. “If I’ve word to the contrary, you’ll be marrying my daughter.”

Ewan cleared his throat. “I already have, my lord.”

Her father paled considerably. “Without my consent?”

But her mother stepped next to him and Haggis on the other side.

“Let’s take this conversation into the house, shall we?” Haggis rumbled.

Her father turned his head, his lip curling. “She’s my daughter, Haggis. You’ve no right to supersede me as you’ve done.”

“We’re family so I willna knock out yer teeth.” Haggis crossed his arms. “Yer daughter just announced she’s married an earl. She did a fair sight better than ye, I’d say. If yer angry, then it should be at yerself for making such a mess in the first place.”

Those words were like a balm to her anger. She had done the right thing.

Her father just gaped at him but Ewan, with a squeeze to her hand, left her side and walked up to her father.

“My lord,” he started.

But her father let out a huff of breath. “You outrank me, you don’t have to call me ‘my lord.’ But you would if you hadn’t just been awarded the title a mere year ago.”

“Papa,” Clarissa’s exasperated huff cut through his response.

Ewan took that as an opportunity to continue. “I love your daughter, sir. I’ll do my best to care for her and keep her in the comfort she’s become accustomed to.”

“Of course you will.” Her father raised his hands in the air. “She’s got a dowry large enough to keep the Queen content.”

Ewan’s face tightened. There it was again and Clarissa knew it was a point of contention for him. For the first time since they’d arrived, she was nervous.

“I won’t take it.” Ewan’s voice was so low it might not have been heard over the ocean crashing in the distance but everyone seemed to hear him anyway because every eye turned to him.

Her father’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?”

“I didn’t marry her for the money and I don’t need it. I’ll provide for my family just fine without it. We’ll have time before the bairns come to make the house right and build up the income.”

“The bairns?” Her father’s voice had lost all of its anger.

“Children, dear,” her mother spoke for the first time, her hand coming to his arm.

“I married a Scot woman, I know what bairns are. I just, I hadn’t really considered that new babies would be coming in the future.”

“What was I marrying Davenport for?” Clarissa asked before she could stop the question from popping out.

“He didn’t seem quite ready to settle. I thought it might be some time before children…” his voice drifted off. “He really was a dreadful choice, wasn’t he?” Her father shook his head.

She’d needed those words, more than she had known. And when she heard them, she threw herself into her father’s arms. He hugged her tight. “Absolutely awful,” she laughed. “But it brought me here, to Ewan.”

“You love him?” her father asked.

She nodded and he gave her one more squeeze. “I do, Papa.”

She stepped back and took Ewan’s hand again. “Mo chridhe,” he murmured as his large hand enveloped hers.

Epilogue

“When are Agnes and your aunt arriving?” Ewan was sitting behind her, his arms creating a cocoon of warmth as she read the letter.

“Next week. They’ll stay until the baby comes.” She bit her lip. He wasn’t going to like the next part. “My parents are coming too.”

She felt him groan. It had been a year since they had married and she was now six months pregnant. He hardly allowed her to do a thing, so she was actually eager for the company, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

In the end, her father had finally convinced Ewan to take some small portion of the dowry to make his lands fully operational. But she knew her father. He was already looking for ways to bestow the rest of it on them. The Scots weren’t the only ones who were stubborn. Her father was too. Much like herself.

And the baby, there was no way he wouldn’t be there when the baby came. She’d have to talk to Ewan about granting her parents a parcel of land to build a house on if her father hadn’t already bought one. He’d be coming to Scotland as often as the Queen to visit his grandchildren.

“How long do ye think they’ll stay?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral. She wasn’t fooled.

“Long enough that you might ask Keiran if we can purchase that strip of land between your holdings and his,” she answered honestly without giving too much information.

This time he gave a loud groan. While he’d come to terms with her father, they weren’t a love match by any stretch. “Just so that they don’t always have to stay in our house,” she finished with grin.

He began trailing his hand up her arm as his lips kissed a path down her neck. “I’m going to need plenty of consoling while they’re here.”

She giggled. “Is that right?” Then she turned to give him a soft kiss. “For you, my love, anything.”

“I’d do anything for you too. Even give your parents land right next to us.” He winked. “Do I have to build them a house?”

“You know my father, he’ll want to do it himself and it will give him something to do that keeps him out of your hair.”

He gave her a broad smile. “I’m beginning to like this idea more and more.” His hand slid back down to her arm and onto her growing stomach, gently massaging the skin. It was a tender touch filled with all the love he held for their child. She relaxed back into him.

“Will Fiona be joining yer uncle and aunt when they come?”

She gave a tinkling laugh then. “I don’t know yet. She’s still in the throes of wedded bliss.”

“We’re still in the throes of wedded bliss too.” His resumed his path down her neck, sliding onto her collarbone.

“Our bliss has culminated in a bairn,” she imitated his accent on the last word.

“Once the little lad or lass is out, can we continue with the bliss?” His voice was a low grumble, filled with heat and passion.

“Oh, we’re still in it now, aren’t we?” she gasped as his hand came up to brush her sensitive nipple.

“Most certainly. Now and forever,” he whispered and then they said no more. Their bodies speaking the language of love.

Heart of a Highlander

A Laird to Love Book 2

USA Today Bestselling Author

Tammy Andresen

Prologue

Colin Campbell stood just outside his father’s darkened room. At five years old, he’d learned the difference between real sickness and one of his father’s fits, as his mother liked to call them. His brother, Shamus, who was seven, stood next to him.

“He’s sad again,” Shamus whispered.

“I ken,” Colin hissed back, tired of his brother thinking he knew everything because he was two years older.

“It’s because of me, Ma,” Shamus looked down to the floor as he said it.

Colin nodded, his anger melting away. No one discussed it outside the house, but everyone inside the house knew. Shamus’s mother had died during childbirth. Colin’s mother was from the village. Not that she was just a farm girl. She had family in the Highlands that owned land, but her father had made his living on the sea. She’d been hired to care for Shamus and had quickly become the lady of the house. But after seven years, the elder Campbell still grieved the loss of his first wife. It was the worst near Shamus’s birthday. “I wonder what she looked like,” Colin pondered aloud. There were no pictures of her anywhere in the estate. Colin assumed they made his father too sad.

“Like me, of course.” Shamus’ face was set into hard lines. Colin wanted to argue that Shamus looked exactly like their father but he had learned not to touch such subjects. Most of the time, his father was a man to be admired. Strong and handsome, even the Earl of Ravenscraig would seek his council. But during these fits, his father slipped away leaving nothing but a shell.

“Colin,” his father called from the bed. “Come here, lad.”

With heavy feet, Colin moved into the room. He hated that his father wanted to talk with him during these times. The conversation was always the same and he had no idea what to say.

“Son.” His father called him over to the bed

“Yes, Da,” he replied in a quiet voice. It was required of him to be polite, attentive.

Waving his hand, his father called him closer. “I want to talk wit’ ye.”

“All right.” His feet slowed even more, dread weighing him down.

His father lifted his head and shifted to a sitting position. “Come closer.”

Hope rose in Colin’s chest and he quickened his pace. His father was sitting. He never sat up during these talks. Perhaps this time would be different.

“Don’t make the same mistake I made, Colin.” His father’s voice was raspy from lack of use. Colin’s hopes fell. This was how it always started.

“All right, Da.” He’d say anything to make sure this conversation ended as quickly as possible.

Colin was close to his father now and the older man pulled his son in for a hug. “If ye marry, don’t get swept away by love and passion. It will break yer heart, Colin. Marry a woman like yer mother the first time. Strong, capable and able to bear ye children. I made a mistake marryin’ Elswith.”

“Yes, Da.” Colin was retreating again. He didn’t want to hear these words. He could sense just under the surface that his mother was less in his father’s eyes even as his father vouched that she was the better choice. Even at his age, Colin could understand. His father had married for love the first time and it had broken his heart.

It didn’t sit right, and he wanted to go run by the loch, forget the words, and forget the feelings.

Jumping on the back of his pony, he rode bareback, not wanting to bother with a saddle. It took too long and without one, he felt truly free. He wasn’t supposed to go this far without a chaperone, but then again no one seemed to notice what he did when his father had taken to bed.

Skirting around the ridge on the south side, he came up to edge of the water, where the land was open and gently sloped down into the loch. As soon as the view widened, he saw the Earl of Ravenscraig, Haggis McDougal, sitting on the water’s edge with his eldest two daughter’s, Fiona and Emilia, the third, Ainsley, was just an infant and likely still at home.

He didn’t pay too much attention to Emilia as a general rule. She was still too young in his eyes and a quiet little one at that. But Fiona, with her shock of red hair and her willingness to do whatever the boys did, she had become his best friend. Though her love of teasing occasionally made them enemies. But that was fun in its own way and so Colin frequently sought her out. Whatever mood she was in, it was always interesting.

She skipped toward him now, eyeing his pony. “I can ride bareback too, ye ken.”

“Not as good as me,” he called back, his worries already falling away at the thought of a game. Fiona did that. Distracted him from the sadness.

“Better,” she grinned back, her hair flouncing behind her, glinting in the sun. Colin didn’t give most lasses a second thought but Fiona was different. She was his friend. Maybe it was because of that fact that he wanted to touch that flaming red hair, to see what it felt like.

He swung down from the pony, landing on the opposite side from the water so the animal blocked him from the Earl’s sight. Fiona joined him and he handed her the reins. “My da is sad again.”

Fiona, who had been about to swing on the pony’s back, stopped, her eyes sympathetic as she turned to him. “That’s too bad.”

“Fiona,” he started. “Can I touch yer hair?”

She shrugged. “Sure. But I don’t ken why ye’d want to.”

“I like the color. It’s like a warm fire,” he whispered as he held the end of the braid in his hand, silky to the touch and making him feel warm inside. “I think it would cheer anyone who was sad.”

She gave him a smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my hair.”

“Do ye think love is bad?” he asked, not caring that the two thoughts likely didn’t make sense to Fiona. But he couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

She shrugged. “Why would it be? My da tells my mum he loves her every day.”

He nodded, feeling relieved. Maybe his father was wrong. Maybe it was just the sadness. People could love and not be hurt. But what if his father was right?

“Fiona, what are ye doin’ back there? No ridin’ that pony now, ye’ll wrinkle yer dress,” the earl called from the shore.

Colin peeked around to see Emilia sitting dutifully next to him.

Fiona swung up onto the pony and gave him a wicked smile. “Count how long it takes me to get to the ridge, and do it right. No cheating.” Then she kicked the pony and off she went. He stopped thinking about his da or love. Counting, he watched Fiona’s flaming red hair fly in the wind.

Chapter 1

Lady Fiona McDougal sat in the carriage with her hands clenched in fists. Outside, the beautiful spring Scottish scenery rolled by but it wasn’t the same peeking at it through a small wood-framed window. She should be out there, wind in her hair, horse underneath her as she took in the splendor that was her home.

But her father had insisted she be more ladylike on this trip. More to the point, he wanted her to act like a lady so that she might marry a respectable Scotsman. They were travelling to a summit of lairds, many of them with eligible sons. She’d known most of these men her entire life, and she knew she didn’t want any of them.

It made her furious just thinking about it.

Her father told her over and over, “Ye’re inheriting a title. How can ye not find a husband?” As though it was some flaw of hers that was the issue.

He’d even brought suitors back to Ravenscraig, but she’d rejected each one. The truth was she just hadn’t wanted any of them. And while her father talked of titles, duty, and responsibility; her heart called for love and passion. The kind that ran wild and free.

She’d only ever wanted one man with such absolute abandon. Colin Campbell.

Well not now, of course. Now she didn’t want him at all. In fact, now she never wanted to see him as long as she lived. Because he was an arse. No, more like a wolf. No, wolves were too regal. He was a hog without regard to others’ feelings or wants. He was just merrily wallowing in mud.

He was also her oldest friend. They had played as children, teased and competed. But somewhere along the way her feelings had changed. The old excitement was there, of course. The thrill of racing horses or swimming across the loch, but a new energy had infused their relationship. It was a longing that had filled her. An ache to be with him, to touch him.

She didn’t know when her own emotions had shifted but she knew exactly when everything changed between them. It was the night they’d been alone in the barn. Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered what had happened.

He knew she went out for night rides. Her father had a suitor there at the house, the Earl of Dumfries. She’d wanted to escape her family, the social responsibilities. Not that Dumfries had been pursuing her. In fact, he just married her cousin.

She tried to explain all this to Colin but he seemed determined to be angry. It was so unlike him, that it perplexed her to no end. When he’d arrived in the barn, she could tell something was different. He’d seemed angry, heated. “Where’s yer beau? Why isn’t he riding with ye?”

She’d huffed at him then. “What’s the matter with ye? Only my father thinks he’s my beau.”

“Yer saying, he isn’t courtin’ ye?” Colin was steadily moving closer.

“I suppose he is. But Ewan really wants--”

Colin interrupted her. “It’s Ewan now, is it?”

“He wants Clarissa, Colin. He’s as smitten as a man can be.” She rolled her eyes then as he’d come to stand directly in front of her.

“So yer not marryin’ him? Because love and marriage often have little to do with one another.”

What was he taking about? But she forgot to ask as his hand reached up to touch her braid. As he stood in front of her in the dim light of the barn, he’d made her feel soft inside as he lightly caressed her hair. He’d filled her with a yearning she didn’t understand. Alone in the near dark, she wanted to touch him too. She’d wanted that a great deal lately, and it was getting harder to resist.

She was jarred back to the present when the carriage hit a bump and she was near thrown off the seat. She let out a curse, tired of being trapped. She banged against the door to vent her frustration. Her father rapped back. “Behave, Fiona. Ye’ve run out of chances.”

Her teeth gritted. It was Colin’s fault her father was so angry.

Because she’d stopped holding back. And there, in the barn, she’d reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Heat had spread through her hand, down her arm, and to the juncture of her legs. “Ye shouldn’t be here,” she’d whispered.

“Why not?” He’d stepped closer then, his other hand coming to her waist. “We’ve been riding like this since we were wee bairns.”

A gasp escaped her lips as she turned her face to his. “It’s different.”

But he hadn’t answered. Because his lips dropped to press lightly against hers. She’d never kissed a man before and she melted into him. It was delicious.

“We’ll be there inside of an hour,” her father called, bringing her back to the present. “Use yer time to make yerself presentable.”

“I’m presentable already,” she gritted out. “All I’ve done is sit in this carriage.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop as he swung open the door, still on the back of his horse and assessed her from top to bottom. Grunting, he gave her a long look. “You’ll find a husband this trip Fiona or I’ll choose for ye.” Then he slammed it shut again.

Fiona rarely cried, but tears pricked at her eyes, the memories flooding her. They’d barely spoken as their bodies had locked together. The kiss had deepened and lengthened until they found themselves in a stall, laying in the hay.

Time had fallen away as they’d held each other.

When he’d touched her in the most intimate place, she’d known. Colin was the only man for her.

In the morning, he’d promised to return that night. To speak with her father together. She’d known he would ask for her hand. Why wouldn’t he?

But things had started to go wrong the moment he left. After their night in the barn, the family had realized her absence. That was when her father had demanded she find a husband before anyone else discovered she’d been missing for an entire night. She’d nearly told him there was nothing to be concerned about. That she’d been with Colin and he’d proposed. But she’d kept it to herself. Her father would be furious with her new husband, and while he’d be suspicious when Colin offered, it would be better if her father didn’t know for certain.

By nightfall, she began to worry. Why hadn’t he come? When Colin didn’t come the next day, she knew something must be wrong. She’d considered going to find out but her father was absolutely furious and she didn’t dare break another rule. So she’d sent her sister, Ainsley, instead. Just to make sure he wasn’t hurt or ill. Ainsley, having no idea why she’d been sent, had declared him right as rain.

Why hadn’t he come?

That was when her heart had broken. She’d never forgive him for this. Never.

He had been her friend for as long as she could remember. How could he do this to her? Hurt her like this?

The carriage rumbled on before finally coming to a rest. They must have arrived at Laird Stewart’s home. Not that she could see enough to tell. But he was hosting this summit of land owners in the area so she was sure they must have arrived.

Her nerves jangled as she craned her neck to see who was outside. Part of her knew she was being selfish. They’d come to discuss their home. Scotland was changing. Scots were leaving of their own volition to go to Canada or America. While Scotland was growing industry and trade, it wasn’t supporting its people and so they were immigrating in search of a better life. At least, that is what her father thought and she agreed. But she couldn’t think of that now.

Because her father had brought her here to find her a husband. Fiona sighed. She only hoped Shamus was in attendance with Laird Campbell rather than Colin. After what had happened, she never wanted to see him again.

Her father snapped open the door, but it was like a different man that greeted her this time. All smiles and warmth, he reached for her hand. Fiona knew he was putting on a show for whoever was outside the carriage. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for being angry. She hadn’t been the easiest child. But she’d find her way if he just allowed it to happen rather than pushing so hard.

She stepped from the buggy. Her eyes sweeping the house, lands and people who stood to greet them. Not for the first time, she wished Emilia or Ainsley were here now. They’d soothe her father, and help Fiona figure out what to do in the face of so many would-be suitors.

The eyes of Laird Stewart and his two sons landed upon her the moment she stepped from the carriage. She’d been called a Scot beauty before. While her nose was spattered with freckles, her eyes were a nice shade of green. She’d always thought so anyway. And her hair was a flaming color of red, while it was not her favorite, Colin had long told her it was warm and inviting. Thoughts of him immediately made her heart skip a beat but she ignored it, determined to forget Colin or, at the very least, remain angry at him.

“You ken my daughter, Lady Fiona.” Her father gave both the Stewart sons a glowing smile. Fiona refrained from rolling her eyes. He needn’t be so ingratiating. Hell would freeze over and her hair would turn white before she’d marry one of those two.

“Ye rode in a carriage, Fiona?” Alister near crowed. “I had no idea ye looked like that. Usually yer hair’s a tangled mess and--” He stopped when his father elbowed him in the ribs.

As the two elders stepped aside, their heads bowed together in conversation, Fiona was left with the Stewart brothers. Her teeth clenched.

Fergus was more subtle. He took her gloved hand, giving it a kiss. Leaning over, he whispered, “I ken another way to tangle yer hair.”

Fiona blinked, her other hand fisting in her skirt. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Normally, she’d have landed her right fist on his nose for such a comment but her father stood smiling not ten feet away, completely unaware of what an arse Fergus was. So instead she placed a bland look on her face and delivered her barb without her fist. Dropping into a curtsey, she saw his eyes drift to her cleavage. As she stood, she moved closer so as not to be overheard. “The man who musses my hair will find himself at the alter the next morn’,” she murmured softly all the while keeping a smile upon her face.

Fergus paled as he took a step back.

Her father’s eyes narrowed as he watched but he did not rejoin her and instead resumed conversation with Laird Stewart.

It was sure to be a long day.

More men joined them in the lane, leaving the comfort of the Stewarts’ home to come out to greet them. The elder men gravitated towards her father, the younger gathered with her, Angus, and Fergus.

Standing straighter, her insides tightened, ready to snap with every man whose eyes roved over her.

As the Lockwood sons joined the conversation, they were even less subtle.

“So different, Fiona.” Rutland Lockwood had allowed himself a slow perusal of her figure. “Who ken ridin a horse like ye do made ye ready for ridin a man.”

“I didnae ken ye’d make such a fine wife, yer usually covered in mud,” Barclay smirked with a glint in his eye.

She pasted her falsest smile upon her lips. She often traded barbs with the boys, but she felt at a disadvantage now, dressed as she was. “Not even mud can hide the fact that yer a scrawny scarecrow,” she sneered at Barclay as the other men snickered. Turning to Rutland, her green eyes narrowed. “And you, Rutland,” her voice had dropped dangerously and Rutland actually took a half step back. “Elizabeth Crawley had an interesting story about what a ride with you was like.”

It was a dirty blow and she knew it. But Rutland deserved to have this story thrown in his face after what he’d just said. Her second cousin, Elizabeth, had allowed him to kiss her in the barn and the man had spilled his seed in his own pants.

For a moment, Rutland stood still as a statue, his face in slack lines of disbelief as the other men roared with laughter around her. If her father ever heard her, he’d box her ears. But they had started it, they’d always started it, because they knew she could give it back.

But Rutland’s face was changing. It went bright red and then taut with anger. Wearing a corset and petticoats, there would be no escaping his wrath and his hand raised as he stepped toward her. “Why you little--”

Someone stepped in front of her blocking Rutland from her view. It took less than a second to recognize the back of Colin’s head. He’d come, after all. Her insides clenched with anger and excitement, blast him to hell. “Touch her, and it will be me that takes it out of yer hide.” Colin’s voice was low and menacing. His broad shoulders set wider than any other man’s while his hands were raised, ready for a fight. He was taller and more muscular than any of the other men here, and the familiar ache began in her nether regions. She huffed a sigh at him and at herself.

“Colin,” she snapped, regaining her senses. She didn’t need him for anything, ever.

Not acknowledging she spoke, he didn’t reply as he continued to stare down the men in front of him. She was already annoyed, at her father, at the other men that surrounded her, and most especially at Colin. She jabbed him in the small of his back with her finger. “Move out of the way, I don’t need yer help.”

Rutland laughed then. “Ye heard her, Colin. Fiona doesn’t need yer help. She’s more of a man than ye are.”

Fiona sucked in her breath. Not because she was particularly upset but because Rutland was about to get licked good. Colin would not stand the insult, that she knew. He was stronger and tougher than most Scottish men, and that was saying something.

Colin stepped closer to Rutland, and his voice dropped low and quiet. “I’m going to beat ye good for that. Ye’re not going to know when or where but it will happen. And after it does, ye’ll apologize to Fiona or I will do it again and again until ye do.”

“I was only jokin’.” Rutland took a half step back. He knew he was no match for Colin. “There’s no need to be like that.”

“Fiona is a lady--” Colin started but Rutland interrupted.

“Fiona is not a lady, at least not like the rest of ‘em. She’s always been willing to trade barbs and--”

“Do ye see her? Does she look like she’s here to trade barbs?” Colin took a breath and she took the opportunity to step in front of him.

The other men crowded around them, forming a circle that blocked them from the elders’ view.

Turning to Colin, she gave him a little push on the chest. Which likely was a mistake because her body tingled from the contact. She ignored it. “I dunnae need ye to help me.”

Rutland moved closer behind her, likely feeling more secure now she was between him and Colin. “You heard her, she doesn’t need ye to help her.” Then he placed his hand on her arse and gave one of her cheeks a squeeze. She sucked in her breath, anger coursing through her. He’d gone too far this time.

Spinning, in one fluid motion, she cracked him in the face with her fist. How dare he touch her? Her blow landed directly on his hawkish nose, which immediately began spewing blood.

Rutland let out a roar of pain and Colin pulled her back so that she just missed Rutland’s return swing. Tucking her behind him, Colin stepped up and cracked Rutland again, sending him crashing to the ground.

“What the devil?” her father roared, likely hearing the noise. He lumbered over to join them. Her father was a great deal slower than he used to be but he still towered over the men, even Colin. Fiona’s stomach gave a flutter of nerves. Her father would be angry at her fit of temper, even if Rutland deserved it. She tucked her now bloodied fist in her dark green skirt. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

“Just some friendly banter is all,” Colin gave her a father an easy grin. The other men nodded and stepped in front of Rutland. If there was one rule, it was that they did not allow their parents to see their antics.

She’d known many of these young men since she was a child, none of them had liked that she kept up with them, not that she’d cared. But the tenor had changed and it frightened her just a touch. Rutland, or any of the others had never tried to touch her like that. For a brief moment, she was glad Colin was by her side. If nothing else, he’d keep her safe.

But then she remembered. He hadn’t been there when she’d really needed him. When her father had demanded she marry. Stepping away from Colin, she smoothed her dress and returned to her father’s side.

She didn’t look back at him as she walked at her father’s side into the Stewarts’ estate. She was done with Colin Campbell.

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Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.

Check out the prequel to this novel

Christmastide with My Captain

What the Critics are saying:

This was an absolute delight to read. The characters were colorful and energetic and the chemistry between the main leads was explosive for such a sweet romance. A great lead-in to an upcoming series that I cannot wait to get my hands on.

Absolutely delightful is the best way I can describe this book.

Emilia is adorable with a beautiful face and a kind and unselfish heart. Jack is the master of his ship and has a tormented heart because of his past. When these two hearts collide, love blooms. Add Christmas to the mix and it is pure magic.

Ms. Andresen has written a wonderful book that instantly drew me in with the first words. I can’t wait to read the rest of the series.

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