Taming the Scot: The Scot of Honor Series

by Eliza Knight

  What if those ruffians and their boss decided that taking Bronwen and forcing her to do unimaginable things wasn’t enough? What if they wanted Euan’s sisters too?

  She couldn’t risk it.

  Even if she wanted to be with him so much that it hurt.

  Even if every part of her heart screamed for her to turn around, to find him, to toss herself into his arms and say she’d made a mistake. That she wholeheartedly loved him and that she wanted to spend the rest of her days with him. That they could make-believe in the Highlands that no one cared about her past, her bloodline or the shame she’d bring his family when the rest of society found out who she was.

  They could pretend that his sisters would forgive her for lying and causing a scandal that would ruin all their marriage prospects.

  But that was all fanciful nonsense.

  Nay, it was better this way. Better to simply tear herself away from them, allowing them to move on. A clean break now. They could find true happiness without the burden of all the rotten apples she brought with her. Euan could concentrate on what he should have been doing all this time rather than falling in love with her and…God, making her care so much about him, too.

  Bronwen dabbed away the last of her tears as a plan formulated in her mind. She’d simply make her way to Leith, beg her cousin for one last act of charity, and then be on her way. Perhaps to London. City life, she knew. It couldn’t be all that different in London than it was in Edinburgh. She had some skills she could put to use there. Singing in a public house, serving ale. She could do well there. Maybe even find a shop to work in as a clerk. She knew her maths and how to keep books.

  Best of all, Prince’s thugs wouldn’t think to look for her there.

  “What have we got here?” The ominous voice coming out of the darkness, accompanied by a second pair of clomping boots, sent shivers of fear and dread skittering up Bronwen’s spine.

  Nay…how?

  Two large men stepped in front of her, blocking her exit—the same men she’d been running from the day she’d first visited Emilia at the docks weeks ago. Prince’s henchmen. The T carved into their beards was unmistakable as were the scar and tattoo. How had they found her? They smelled of sour whisky and unwashed bodies. One look about, and she realized she’d somehow gotten very close to Tanner’s Close. Och, but why hadn’t she paid more attention to where she was going rather than the thoughts and feelings tumbling around inside her?

  Heaven help me. With her mind a jumble, her feet had taken her on familiar footpaths until she ended up here, right where she’d never wanted to go again? Right into their waiting paws…

  “Leave me alone,” she said, straightening and using the same authoritative voice she’d employed with Euan when she first stepped into his house. She tucked his handkerchief into her bodice, wishing she were still wearing her boots inside of these flimsy slippers. She’d stopped carrying her knife when she’d changed clothes, never thinking she’d be in this situation.

  What an idiot she’d been. She’d barely escaped from them last time. How would she handle it now?

  “Och, lass, but we’ve left ye alone for weeks. Or rather, ye’ve made sure of it. Where have ye been?” The larger of the two cracked his knuckles and then his neck as if he were preparing for a fight that she was certain was coming.

  Bronwen ran her tongue over her chipped tooth. Well, she might not have a knife, but she wasn’t going down without inflicting a little bit of pain of her own on these two.

  “’Tis none of your business.” She raised her chin and made a move to step around them, but they blocked her path, arms out.

  “On the contrary, everything ye do is our business,” said the smaller one. “And it’s a good thing we had wee Angus hanging out at the docks, looking for ye. Took us a while, but then, there ye were. Walking down the gangplank and back into our hands.”

  Bile rose in Bronwen’s throat. They’d known she’d returned from the moment she got off the ship. She should never have agreed to come. All of the trepidation she’d had about doing so had been true. And now, her nightmare was coming alive before her eyes. But it had been so hard to say no to Euan, to his sisters. To the life that she wished to live in for a little while longer.

  “So here’s how it’s going to be, lass. Ye either can come with us willingly, or we can tie ye up and drag ye back through the streets. But either way, ye’re no’ leaving here unless it’s with us.”

  Every inch of her body grew cold then. She knew what they said was true. Her tongue ran over the chip in her tooth again, back and forth. It’d been their gift to her as a warning the last time.

  To go willingly into the nightmare went against her nature and promised worse than a broken tooth. Bronwen stiffened, readying herself for the fight of her life. She tightened her fists, wishing she had a weapon.

  “Och, but the lass wants to play it rough,” said one to the other. Their toothy grins glinted in the little light afforded by the stars and moon and a few candles in windows.

  Her stomach tightened, and she worked hard to swallow the bile in her throat. This was not going to be enjoyable at all.

  “We like it rough,” said the big one.

  The smaller brute balled a fist and reached back. She anticipated the blow, prepared to block it as best she could, maybe even dodge his meaty fist—but it didn’t come. Instead, the bastard was yanked off his feet and tossed somewhere into the darkness. The sound of his body smacking into the ground echoed in the alleyway. The other man whirled to fight whoever had come.

  That was when Bronwen saw him.

  Euan.

  The rage on his face was intense and powerful. There was no hesitation as he punched the larger ruffian in the nose. His head snapped back, and he teetered on his feet for a second before collapsing onto the ground. A scrambling sound came from somewhere in the darkness as the other lout crawled to his feet and lurched forward as if to tackle Euan.

  But the captain dispatched him with a blow beneath the chin, sending him sprawling backward, his consciousness snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

  Neither of the men moved, knocked out by a single punch from Euan. Bronwen stood blinking, stunned, and then her entire body started to tremble.

  “Are ye all right?” Euan gathered her in his arms, and she could feel and hear his heart pounding beneath his clothes as she sank gratefully into his embrace, clutching to him.

  “Ye found me,” she said breathlessly, amazed.

  “Aye, of course. Ye think I was going to let ye run off into the night?” He tipped her chin up, so their eyes locked. His face was full of concern. “I said I loved ye, Bronwen. And I meant it.”

  He bent to kiss her then, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all the passion she possessed. This man loved her, had saved her from her nightmares—not once, not twice, but multiple times now.

  And she knew he loved her, because she could feel it every time he looked at her. Felt it in the way he held her now, the way his harsh breath fanned over her face as he claimed her mouth.

  Her heart reached from within her chest to grasp on to his because she loved him too. Desperately. Wanted to be with him. Walking away from his proposal, his love, had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. And it would be harder still.

  Because it didn’t matter that he loved her, and she loved him. What mattered was the implications of what a union between them would bring. As much as she wanted to bask in this moment, to give in, nothing had changed.

  So, this had to be goodbye.

  But blast it all. Why did it have to hurt so much?

  14

  Euan had hailed a hackney back to his house and hadn’t let go of Bronwen’s hand the entire ride. But once they’d stepped through the doors, she’d sailed up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving him to take care of a few other details, such as sending a footman back to inform his sisters of what had happened and that they should feel free to stay at the ball under the guidance of Ja
ime and Giselle. He’d also directed a footman to locate a magistrate, giving him the exact location of the downed men in the hope they might still find them there.

  In his haste to get Bronwen to safety, he’d not thought of having the men apprehended.

  With those details settled, he went in search of Bronwen. He needed to make sure she was all right. She’d barely spoken two words in the hackney, but her fingers had been cold, and she’d shuddered every so often beside him. She must have had the fright of her life before those arseholes had cornered her in the alleyway. Thank God he’d found her when he did; else, he wasn’t sure what he would have come upon—only that it would have been a nightmare to them both.

  His knock at her door went unanswered, and he feared she’d already packed her things and run away. He pressed his forehead to the wood panels, closed his eyes and called out her name. “Bronwen. Please answer.”

  A second later, the door wrenched open, and there she stood, pale, her hair unraveling down her back. She was still in her gown but judging from how it slouched against her shoulders, she’d made a valiant attempt to get the damn thing off.

  Out of his periphery, he could see that her bed was piled with her belongings, her satchel open wide. Nay, nay, nay. She couldn’t leave.

  “Please do no’ go,” he said, gaze back on her, imploring. Why did it feel as if his body was being wrenched in half? “Running is no’ going to solve anything between us or your past.”

  “It will keep me safe. And ye and your sisters.”

  “I can do that too. Did I no’ prove it tonight?”

  The column of her delicate throat bobbed. “But your sisters, their possible matches…”

  “No man would dare turn away one of my sisters because of who I married, and if they did, then they would no’ be worthy of her love or my respect.” Euan couldn’t hold back. He reached for her hand, encircling her slim, calloused gloveless fingers. “I love ye, Bronwen. With all my heart. And I ask ye again to be my wife.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head. “Nay, love. No buts.” With her gray eyes growing teary again, he kept his serious stare locked on her. “Do ye want to spend your life with me?”

  She bit her lip and then nodded. “Aye, verra much. I can no’ tell ye how much I’ve longed to hear the words. How much my heart yearns for yours. How much it hurt to run. Ye saw those men. How can I risk them coming here, harming your sisters?”

  “I know ye’re scared, and I promised ye protection. I almost failed in that tonight. I swear, love, I will see they are punished.”

  “That’s no’ all. My parents’ debts. I can no’ put that on ye. And I do no’ want to be the downfall of ye or your sisters. How will they ever marry with me in the picture?”

  He smiled and tugged her against him, pressing her head to his heart, exactly where she belonged. “Do no’ worry over such. I’ve plenty of coin, and my sisters will be fine. We will be just fine. Ye lift us up, my love, as ye have from the moment ye arrived.”

  “Oh, Euan. I love ye so much.” Her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket as she clung to him.

  The words he’d craved fell off her tongue in a sweet, soothing caress. “Och, I love ye more.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her flush to him, and bent to kiss her, capturing her mouth in what was at first a gentle kiss but which quickly consumed him. He needed to convey in this one kiss all that he felt, wanted. A promise of the future, of love and pleasure. He swept his tongue across her bottom lip, teasing the flesh there. Timidly, she parted her lips, her tongue caressing the corner of his mouth. He groaned deep in his throat, returning the tease with his own. She tasted of the punch they’d drank earlier and something sweeter, spicier. Something that was all her. Bronwen moaned and opened her lips for him, beckoning Euan to deepen the kiss.

  To take all that she offered and more—to show her how much he needed her, wanted her.

  Cupping a hand against her cheek, Euan threaded his fingers through her locks. Her hair was softer than silk, and the scent of flowers and Bronwen’s own aura enveloped him. She leaned into his touch and then reached up to explore his hair too. Her fingers ran deliciously through his hair, somehow feeling even more intimate than a kiss. To be able to hold the woman he loved like this, when an hour before he’d been afraid of losing her.

  Her head fell to the side, leaving her delicate neck exposed fully for his roving mouth to explore. As he kissed the place where her pulse leapt, her breath came in little pants. God, he loved that sound. He traced his fingers over the gooseflesh that rose along her arms, wanting to lift her and crush her body to his and never let go.

  “Oh,” she sighed as his lips traversed the length of her neck to tease behind her ear. A little moan of pleasure escaped her and sent tremors of sharp need careening through his body.

  This touch, this kiss, was almost too good to be true. She’d said she loved him. That meant she was his, did it no’?

  “I want to spend every day for the rest of our lives worshipping ye.” He nibbled on her collarbone while his fingers traced the outline of her petite, pert breasts.

  He rubbed a thumb over her hardened nipple and nearly lost his sense of control when she mewled with delicious pleasure, her back arching.

  “Let me love ye,” he crooned. “I beg ye.”

  “Aye, love me,” she crooned against his ear as she came up to kiss the spot, mimicking his earlier movement.

  Dear God, if he could hear her say that over and over again... Her ardor was like a potent remedy, putting him into a daze of frenzied desire.

  “I want to see ye…” he murmured. Her gown was already falling off her shoulders, and with a few flicks of his fingers, he had the fabric sliding down her arms. Through the sheer chemise, he could make out the creamy swell of her rosy-tipped breasts. Flawless. With a finger, he tugged the fabric low until one of her breasts popped free, and she gasped.

  Her trusting gaze met his with a question.

  “Ye’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so glorious in my life as your perfect breasts.”

  Bronwen laughed at that, making a move to cover herself—he suspected out of a little embarrassment—but he stayed her movements with his hand. He cupped her bare breast, marveling at the soft silk of her skin, the warmth of it. With a fingertip, he caressed the underside of her breast until he couldn’t take it any longer, and he swept in to take a delectable nipple between his lips.

  Bronwen gasped, her fingers curling back into his hair.

  Blood pooled in Euan’s groin as desire flooded him, shoving reason aside. The need to push into her slick folds was intense and growing. Continuing his attentions on her breasts with his mouth, he slowly massaged her hip, desperately wanting to bring her to the bed or sink to the floor. Or even the small settee or window seat. Anywhere they could entwine their bodies together.

  He opened his eyes to stare into her eyes, cloudy gray storms filling with intense passion. “Bronwen?” he asked.

  “Aye?”

  He lowered his gaze to her pouty lips and deliberately descended his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm, plush and moist. He kissed her softly at first, enjoying the feel of her against him, never wanting this moment to end. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. Bronwen’s lips were rosy and swollen from their kiss, and she gazed at him with a far-off look.

  “Say ye want to be my wife,” he begged. “I need to hear ye say the words.”

  “I want to be your wife, Euan.”

  Lord, how he loved her, and he’d almost lost her too. If he’d not been able to catch her in the alleyway, there was no telling what those thugs would have done to her. Taken her…killed her. The memory of coming up upon them and seeing them hovering over her, violent intent in every line of their bodies, sent a chilly wave of dread rushing through him.

  His breathing quickened as a fire kindled in every part of his body, fueled by love and the sensation of her mouth on his.

  If the sen
sations cascading through her every limb with his kiss could be equal or greater when they made love—for surely, that was where they were headed—then Bronwen couldn’t wait to be Euan’s in body as well as soul. Heat suffused her face at such thoughts, but how could she help it when his hand was on her breast, when his tongue had been there moments before? And the feelings that whipped through her…she was lucky to be still standing at all.

  Hadn’t she been waiting for Euan to touch her since the very first kiss they’d shared?

  “I want to make love to ye,” Euan crooned. His blue eyes had deepened to sapphire, and his husky voice filled with desire stoked a place between her thighs she’d barely paid attention to all of her life.

  “I want ye to,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned up to kiss him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth, in case he wasn’t sure she meant it.

  Euan scooped her up, her gown tumbling the rest of the way down and crumpling somewhere on the floor behind them as he carried her to the bed. He laid her gently on the coverlet and then covered her body with his.

  She gasped at the length of his arousal pressed to her belly, certain that was what it was. She shifted beneath him, bringing a leg up to his hip. His body settled between hers, and she gasped at the more intimate contact. Euan groaned, stirred by the feeling too.

  Bronwen stared into his heavily lidded eyes. All the tension bubbling up inside Bronwen seemed to swell in this one moment. She trailed a finger along his jaw, memorizing each curve of his striking face. His eyes sparkled, and his golden hair fell roguishly on his forehead.

  “I can’t believe ye’re mine,” she whispered.

  He reached up and grasped her hand in his. Dragging her palm to his lips, he kissed it, sending a shiver of awareness through her belly and to her center.