The Earl's Forsaken Bride: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 6)

by Tammy Andresen

  Taking a deep breath, she stood straight in her readymade gown. Giving them a gracious smile, she accepted each of their welcomes with all the grace she possessed. After two years of being a near servant herself, she had a much deeper understanding of their position.

  The housekeeper, Mrs. McDougal, gave her a friendly greeting. “If there is anythin’ ye need to tae settle in, just ask.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, sure she would need that help more than once.

  Walking into the main hall, Callum took her hand in his. She took in the worn tapestries, stone walls, and lit fires. “It’s so big,” she murmured.

  “Aye, it is.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Our suite of rooms will be our private space. Let’s go have a look.”

  “That would be wonderful.” She looked round as he led her toward the main stairs. It took what seemed a ridiculously long time, but finally, Callum opened a door off the dark hallway. An expansive, surprisingly bright room filled with sunlight spread out before her with a large bed at its center.

  Grinning, she breezed over to it and then flopped herself down upon the mattress. It was massive and soft and likely her favorite part of her new home. “This is divine,” she said, then inhaled a large breath as Callum moved to stand over her.

  “Aye, it is.” He held her eyes with his, devouring her with his gleaming hot gaze while brushing her cheek.

  Her own body stirred. Between the cottage and the ship, they hadn’t much time together alone. She reached for him, and pulled him onto her body. “I’m glad to be here with you,” she said as she looked into his dark, bottomless eyes.

  “I’m glad that ye’re glad,” he said sinking onto hers.

  A knock sounded at the door and Elizabeth scowled. This was her one moment to enjoy her husband and already it was being interrupted.

  Callum ignored the sound, his lips sliding over her neck, but then a voice called out, “My lord.”

  “What?” Callum responded his hands on the buttons of her dress.

  “There’s a fire, my lord. The Drury farm,” the muffled voice replied.

  Callum jumped from the bed and taking her hand, kissed it. “I have to go.”

  She blinked and he strode toward the door. “Should I come with you?”

  “Nae, lass. It’ll be nasty work. Stay here where yer safe.” Then he opened the door and was gone without another word.

  She became aware that her mouth was hanging open and rubbed her face with her hands, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He’d left after mere minutes of returning.

  Not that she begrudged him helping others. She understood his duties, and what was more, felt pride that he was so willing to put himself in danger to care for his tenants. Callum was needed, she was sure of it. But would this be her life? Loving a man who was forever off doing for others, not just because it was his duty, but because he didn’t have the same depth of feeling for her that she had for him? Since the day she’d confessed her love and he hadn’t returned it, she’d been concerned. Now, as he’d left with barely a backward glance, she couldn’t quiet her fears any longer. It made her heart sink.

  She waited all afternoon, but Callum never returned. What if he’d been hurt? What if he was simply taking his time because he wasn’t that eager to return to her? She hated these thoughts but they came anyway. Having dinner with her Aunt Mary, she saw the woman settled for the night before she wandered further into the house. She’d likely get lost but at least she’d be doing something. She couldn’t pace in a single room any longer.

  Mrs. McDougal appeared in front of her. “Can I help ye wit’ anything?”

  Drat, she couldn’t even get lost in peace. “Any word on the fire?”

  The lines of Mrs. McDougal’s face tightened. “They can’t find one of the Drury children. Such a shame.”

  Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly in her chest. Here she’d been lamenting being useless while some poor family was missing their child. “Mrs. McDougal, can you take me to help?”

  The other woman’s eyes lit first with approval. “Let’s make a quick basket of food to take. I bet no one’s eaten a thing.”

  Within a half hour they had set out to the farm. The wagon bumped along the rutted path in the darkening sky, but Elizabeth paid it no mind. It felt so good to be out, to be helping.

  They arrived at the charred structure, and Elizabeth winced to see the burnt-out shell of a home. It pained her even more to see the worried faces of the tenants.

  Callum came striding over, his face set in hard lines. “What are ye doin’ here, lass? I told ye not to come. It’s not that I’m not happy tae see ya, but it’s your first day here and—”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, he didn’t sound all that happy to see her. “We brought food for everyone.” She lifted the large basket out of the wagon. “And blankets for anyone who is cold.”

  Callum relaxed, approval lighting his eyes. “That was kind of ye.”

  “I heard there is a child missing?” She leaned over to stroke her husband’s cheek. She’d missed him today.

  “Aye. We’ve searched everywhere and called over and over.” He leaned in to close the distance between them. “They swear the child was out of the house, but I can’t help think that…”

  She reached for his hand. She knew he didn’t want to say the child had likely perished in the fire. He helped her down from the wagon and she pulled the supplies she’d brought, ready to hand out food.

  An older woman, who could only be Mrs. Drury, cried softly as she accepted the meat and cheese. “I brought her out meself,” the woman cried. “I dunnae ken what could have happened.”

  A young woman holding a baby, came to place her hand on the other’s shoulder. “It will be all right, ma. We’ll find Fiona.”

  But the mother shook her head. “Ye ken as well as anyone it isn’t always all right. Look at ye, Caroline, trying to care for that baby with Angus gone.”

  Elizabeth winced. Much as her fate hadn’t been kind, these people had been suffering. Were suffering now.

  “Fiona, how old is she?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Four, my lady,” the younger woman, Caroline, responded.

  Elizabeth inwardly winced. The girl was so little. “Tell me about her.”

  “She’s a wild one,” Caroline shook her head sadly. “Always runnin’ free, hidin’ in the barn.”

  “She wouldn’t be hiding there now would she?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.

  “We’ve checked, my lady,” the older woman said.

  Elizabeth took a long slow breath. “What else can you tell me about her?”

  “Well,” Caroline started. “She loves the dogs, eats everything in sight, and she’s forever singin’ wit’ all her breath.”

  “She helps her father wit’ the plowin’. Always two steps behind him.”

  Elizabeth nodded as the men once again fanned out and began calling for her. Their voices were harsh, their worry evident.

  “Stop,” Elizabeth called suddenly. “Stop calling for her.” If the child was still alive, she was too young to respond to such harshness, she’d come out to the quiet call of a mother.

  Callum turned to her, looking surprised and mildly irritated. “Elizabeth, it’s gettin’ dark. We’ve got to find her or—”

  “Ladies, we have to sing. She’s a child. If she’s frightened, their voices won’t help.” Understanding lit both Caroline and her mother’s eyes. They began a lullaby, soft and high.

  Blow the wind, blow;

  Swift and low;

  Blow the wind o'er the ocean.

  Breakers rolling to the coastline;

  Bringing ships to harbor;

  Gulls against the morning sunlight;

  Flying off to freedom!

  Elizabeth caught the melody and joined in as Mrs. McDougal added her voice. As the notes pitched up, and their voices carried, a small figure appeared in the door of the barn.

  The women stopped abruptly as Caroline and her mother raced
to the little girl. It could only be Fiona.

  “Well, I’ll be a horse’s arse,” one of the men said softly as he shook his head.

  “Where were ye?” Mrs. Drury cried, snatching up the child in her arms.

  Fiona blinked. “Wit’ the dogs. I was scared.”

  Callum came to her side. “How did you know that?” His arms wound around her as he pulled her close.

  “Just an instinct,” she said against his chest.

  “I think.” He took a breath. “That you will find your life as a countess on the Highlands will be filled with far more meaning than you first thought. I ken ye won’t be supportin’ yerself, but you will be helping all of them. Ye’ll be helpin’ me.”

  A feeling of satisfaction lit her from within. She’d make it her mission to help the people here. Whatever his feelings for her, he would value her and he would never leave her alone. That had to be enough. “Oh Callum,” she breathed. “That is everything.”

  “I ken, my love.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two hours later, they had returned home, tucked safely in their room. Tomorrow, work would begin on a new home for the Drury family. Tonight, they had unfinished business to attend to.

  Elizabeth lay tucked under the covers as she watched Callum ready himself. He stripped off his clothing, washing himself down after the fire. “Do you need help?” she called softly from the bed.

  “No, lass. I’ll be done in no time. Ye warm the bed fer me.”

  She nodded, enjoying the view of his muscles as he worked the water over his skin, stripping off his clothing. Heating the bed wouldn’t be a problem as she watched him move.

  Drying off, he caught sight of her looking at him. He winked at her then as a blush rose in her cheeks.

  “Feeling better?” She scooted over to make room for him.

  “I am.” He moved slowly toward the bed, his eyes intent upon her. She drank in the view of her husband. She’d never grow tired of the strength his muscular body exuded or the softness with which he wielded it. “The smoke makes ye feel grimy.”

  She grimaced, he own desire momentarily forgotten. “The poor Drury family.”

  Callum slipped into bed next her, his arms wrapping around her body. She wore a nightshift, but the fabric did little to separate them. “We’ll help them rebuild.”

  She nodded. “And what of Carolyn and her baby? Did she lose her husband?”

  “Aye,” Callum nodded as he spoke. “A year ago. Her parents are helping best they can, but they’ve got their hands full with their children and now with the fire….”

  He didn’t finish, he didn’t have to.

  “I should introduce her to the blacksmith. They might be able to help one another.”

  Callum blinked. “Like git married and help raise each other’s children?”

  “Well, I hadn’t thought about it like that, but at the very least, they could share their grief. Perhaps she could cook for his children and he could pay her. Maybe mend the children’s clothes and…” she trailed off because that was indeed beginning to sound like marriage.

  “Are ye anglin’ to become Ewan? Make a match for people in need just like us?”

  That was a marvelous idea. She sat up, her mind turning over the possibility. Help couples find one another. Help women who had been pushed out by society. It was a marvelous idea. “Oh Callum,” she breathed. “It would be so wonderful to help those who need it.”

  “I agree,” he grinned. “Let’s start with Carolyn and Damon.”

  “We could throw a party for the village so that they might meet.” Excitement rippling through her and she clapped a little at the idea.

  “Michaelmas Day is next week, we could hold a festival.” Callum’s hand stroked her back.

  “It’s perfect,” she breathed, laying back down next to him as she pressed her body to his. “You’re perfect.” Her lips found his.

  “Lass, ye’ve made my life complete in ways I never even dreamed. Don’t ye be tellin’ me that I’m so wonderful. If one of us should be thankful, it’s me.”

  She sat up again, only to send her nightrail sailing over her head. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be thankful? I believe I’ve thought of the best way to thank you.” And then she pressed her skin to his.

  His hands wrapped around her waist and then fanned across her back. “Well, if ye’re dead set on thankin’ me lass, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

  She giggled as their lips met ready to lose herself in his embrace. She started with surprise when he pulled away.

  “I’ve somethin’ tae tell ye.” He looked into her eyes.

  She reminded herself to breathe as she wondered what he might say. Fear made her heart thump in her chest. “Yes?”

  “When ye told me that ye loved me,” he paused then. “I’m not proud, but I wanted to tell ye that I loved ye too. I just couldn’t say the words. I’ve been afraid my heart was too broken after the war to give ye real emotion.”

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh as she pressed against him. “Don’t be silly. Of course you’re not too broken to love. And I love you too.” She leaned down to kiss him again and this time, they said no more as they moved together. She’d meant every word. Her life was perfect.

  A week later, Elizabeth stood and clapped as the villagers gathered about the common. After having passed bread and then eaten their fill, everyone had begun dancing as the bagpipes played a merry tune. She’d intentionally sat Damon and Carolyn at their table, next to one another, and she was pleased to see that not only did they get on quite well but Damon had asked for a dance.

  “Callum,” she tugged on his arm. “Look, they are dancing!”

  “I see them, love.”

  He caressed her waist, stroking the luxurious fabric of her new gown. He’d insisted buying it for her for the festival and had purchased several more. She was trying to get used to it. “But everyone else is looking at you. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Aunt Mary scooted up next to her, giving her arm a little pinch. “Go on then.” She smiled. “I’m getting older just waiting to watch the two of you dance.”

  “See?” Callum laughed. “Everyone wants to see us out there.”

  She allowed Callum to sweep her into the throng of dancers. His steps were quick and light and she found herself breathless as he held her. “You’re marvelous.” It amazed her how agile he was for such a large man.

  He pulled her a little closer, his gaze soft as he spun her around. “I am the luckiest man I ken,” he whispered. “How soon until we can leave?”

  She giggled. “Don’t be silly,” she said, but her pulse quickened. “We have to dance at least one more dance—"

  But she stopped speaking as she watched Damon and Carolyn slip from the crowd, their hands locked together.

  She gave Callum’s arm a squeeze. She’d done that. She’d helped a woman in need.

  “What are ye thinkin’, lass?” His voice was soft and low, as he leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear.

  “Just that I liked helping them. That I want to aid others. Men who’ve returned from war. Women who’ve lost their husbands.”

  He brushed his lips to the sensitive part of her neck. “That is a grand idea. We’ll do it together, if ye let me. We’ll find ways to help those who cannot help themselves.”

  “Together,” she said, feeling complete for the first in so long. She had purpose, real accomplishments and above all, she had love.

  Scottish Devil

  Brethren of Stone

  By Tammy Andresen

  Six siblings unite after the death of their parents around their eldest brother, Stone. They consider blood to be a binding oath and vow to protect one another. They all must face their own demons as they find love and their places in the world.

  Fire and Brimstone…that is what the locals liked to call him. It was their way of referring to him as the devil. Let them fear him, he cared not. Stone Sinclair’s eyes slashed through the crowd daring one
of them to say it here and now.

  He squared his shoulders and his neck made a cracking noise, causing several women to look fearfully at him. Utterly ridiculous. He knew that his scowling façade and his penchant for silence frightened some, as had his father’s, but they’d never been anything but responsible overlords. They were making these lands prosperous for all who lived here.

  His parents died while attempting to rescue miners from a collapsed mine shaft. If those actions didn’t speak to the kindness in their hearts, Stone didn’t know what else could. He supposed it did in its own way. It was the reason so many now stood at their funeral. Though his more cynical side told him it was their twisted desire to ogle his family and hunt for any misstep that might confirm in their minds that they were devils.

  He could make out the occasional word, though he kept his eyes on the large stone that marked his parents’ grave. His five brothers stood in a line by birth order on his right side. And his sister, Arianna, only five years old, held his hand on the left.

  It was her little fingers tugging on his that finally cast his gaze down, instead of forward. “Stone,” she whispered.

  “Aye, my little lamb?” his heart constricted every time he looked into those luminous blue eyes. What she had lost was so much more painful than what had been taken from him. He’d had their parents for the first twenty-four years of his life. But a little girl should grow up with her mother.

  “When are Mama and Papa coming home?”

  She’d asked the same question several times and he’d given her his best answer each and every time. “They won’t come home, I am afraid. But it doesn’t mean that they won’t keep loving ye.”

  Her eyes swelled with tears and, thoughtless to the onlookers, he swung her up into his arms. He heard a gasp from someone in the crowd and his eyes narrowed, searching for the offender? Did they expect him to eat his own sister alive? Bloody hell, they thought him the devil but it was them feeding off his grief now that seemed to garner joy from hearsay and rumors about his family rather than acknowledge their accomplishments and care.