Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
A Scot’s Surrender
A Laird to Love
Tammy Andresen
Copyright © 2018 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.
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Contents
Untitled
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
My Laird’s Seduction
Other Titles by Tammy
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Untitled
A Scot’s Surrender
A Laird to Love Book 3
By Tammy Andresen
Boarshead Inn, Kirkcaldy, Scotland
Spring, 1852
Prologue
Boarshead Inn, Kirkcaldy, Scotland
Spring, 1852
Agnes lay in bed, the sounds of muffled voices filtering into her room. Well, it wasn’t her room, actually. And she wasn’t alone. On the floor, within arm’s reach, lay Laird Keiran McKenna.
She’d come to the inn as her cousin Lady Clarissa’s companion. Clarissa had sent her fiancé, Lord Dumfries, away but had realized what a fool she’d been. They had travelled without proper planning so that Clarissa could catch Ewan and ask him to return. That was when things had begun to go wrong. Well, not for Clarissa, but for Agnes.
A storm had rolled in that forced them to stay at the inn. Several other travelers, however, had the same idea and the inn was full. What was worse, was Clarissa had disappeared with Ewan. That was fine for Clarissa, her and Ewan would surely marry. Agnes was in a different situation entirely as she’d been left in the company of one of her least favorite men, Laird McKenna.
They’d been at her cousin’s family home for the past two weeks together and she knew enough of him to be certain he was a man she would never marry. Not ever.
It wasn’t that he was unattractive, quite the contrary. Nor was he mean or contemptible. It was more that he was rather insistent upon not obeying the rules of society. And in Agnes’s experience, men who disregarded those rules often left the women closest to them in vulnerable and sometimes ruinous situations.
His steady breathing captured her attention, and she found herself breathing along with him, entranced by the sound.
“Go to sleep, Agnes,” he growled from his spot on the floor.
“I’m trying,” she huffed, her head lifting from the pillow. “But I can’t seem to stop thinking about how I will be ruined after tonight.”
He let out a long sigh. “I’m not sleeping in the common room. It doesn’t matter how much ye squawk.”
She sat up then, the ropes underneath the mattress creaking. “I am not squawking, and it’s your duty as a gentleman to allow me to have the room…alone.”
“There are no more rooms, and I am not sleeping with the riff raff. I paid for a room.”
“But a gentleman—”
He stopped her before she could say more. “I’m not a gentleman.”
“Exactly my point. Clarissa and Ewan will marry after tonight, it doesn’t matter that they are together—”
“We are not getting married.” His voice was rough, harsh with his denial.
She inched closer to the edge of the bed, trying to see his face. Not because she needed to read his expression, his meaning was very clear. It was more that it was a very nice face, handsome in a rough masculine way that occasionally made her forget that he had no regard for polite behavior. And it was crucial she had a husband who understood the importance of caring for the women in his life. “It’s not as though I didn’t know that already. Trust me, when I say, I share the same sentiment.”
He didn’t answer, but she heard him turn away from her, grumbling to himself as he moved. He lay on the hard floor, with nothing but a single blanket that was half under him and half covering his body. A coat was tucked under his head. His very broad shoulders jutted up from the floor, and his long, muscular body stretched out well past the blanket. He was the sort of man after which statues were modeled. She wondered how muscles like his felt. Were they hard and cold like marble or warm to the touch?
She also couldn’t help noticing how uncomfortable it looked. She grabbed the pillow from her own bed and slid her feet to the floor.
“Agnes,” he warned again.
Crouching next to him, he turned toward her then. Even in the dark, she could see a glint in his hazel eyes that made her breath catch. It was like the one time she’d tasted brandy. It had slid down her throat like fire. Causing warmth to spread through her entire body.
That was how Keiran’s gaze made her feel now. She thrust the pillow at him, not knowing what else to do. “I’m in the soft bed. I’ll use my coat for a pillow, and you can use this.”
Hesitating, he looked skeptically at the pillow as she thrust it closer to him.
“It isn’t going to bite you,” she huffed as he continued to look doubtfully at the pillow.
Finally, he took it out of her hand, their fingertips grazing, and the tiniest gasp escaped her lips. He heard it anyway and she saw the way his gaze narrowed, his breath stopping for a moment as something delicious crackled in the air. “You should go back to bed.”
She nodded, getting ready to stand, but then she paused. “I’ve never been alone with a man like this before.”
“Keep it that way til ye’re married,” he said, turning away from her again.
That, however, did not deter her. In fact, it made it easier to talk to him without his penetrating gaze upon her. How else could she explain the confession that she allowed to slip past her lips. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be married. I’ve never even been kissed.”
He looked back to her, then, before she could blink, his entire body had shifted so his face was an inch from hers. “You’re smart, pretty, and the kindest person I ken. Ye’ll be married before ye can turn in a circle.” Every part of her warmed at the compliment.
“Thank you.” She found herself leaning closer to him, until their lips almost touched. She wanted to keep moving closer, but fear stopped her. Her heart skipped a beat as she hoped he would do what she daren’t.
He didn’t. Still as stone, his gravelly voice shook through her. “But it won’t be me. I won’t kiss ye, and I most certainly won’t marry ye,” he rasped. “Go back tae bed.”
She would have jumped back on the bed at his harsh tone, but at some point, he had rested his hand on her hip and as she made to move his grip tightened, holding her close. It confused her to no end, his words pushed her away, but his touch, it made her breathless with anticipation. And she felt that same energy from him. He was exci
ted too. It pulsed from his fingertips, straight to her core. “I didn’t mean for you to kiss—”
“Aye, ye did.” His body was moving closer, heating hers. Filling her with an energy she’d never known but it was intoxicating. “Ye don’t want me, though, ye just want the experience. I ken ye think I’m no good.”
Her breath caught again as her hand fluttered to his chest. When they’d met a few weeks before, Agnes had been travelling with her mother and her aunt. Keiran and Lord Dumfries had happened upon them when their wheel was broken. Lord Dumfries had aided them on the side of the road while Keiran had sat on his horse and watched, not offering any help. “An upstanding man would have assisted us when our wheel…” She didn’t finish because he squeezed her hip tighter.
“I never claimed to be upstanding. I’ve seen and done things…” He stopped, his breath fanning her face.
He didn’t have to finish. She knew he’d been in the war. Trembling, she lifted her other hand so that it rested against his cheek. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, Keiran. I can’t imagine how difficult being a soldier was, but it’s all right now.”
She hadn’t thought the moment could grow any more intimate until his forehead came to rest against hers. “I wish that were true.” His other hand came to her face and they sat touching each other, head’s together, hands on each other’s faces as long moments passed. “You have a chance at a pure life, lass, and that isn’t with me.”
Then his touch was gone. He lay back down, rolling over and away from her. The sudden loss of contact made her feel cold, alone as she slowly rose and climbed back into the empty bed.
Chapter One
Eight months later
Iverness Estate
Dunbar, Scotland
Miss Agnes Faulkenberry gave a prim curtsey as she notched her jaw higher in the air.
“You remember Laird McKenna,” the Earl of Dumfries, Ewan McDougal, gestured toward his friend as he made the necessary introductions.
“Of course,” she gave a tight smile. Keiran McKenna. It had been eight months since she’d seen the cad laird. Sure, he was wealthy with a vast estate. And yes, he’d worked hard to make that estate profitable after his return from the war.
It couldn’t be denied that he was exceedingly handsome, with dark hair and piercing hazel eyes. He possessed that easy charm that could lull a girl into losing her heart before she understood that his grace masked a devilish intent.
She’d seen it firsthand.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Faulkenberry and Mrs. Faulkenberry.” His deep voice caressed her skin as he gave a bow of his own. Then bowed to her mother. The sight of his muscles flexing as he bent might have made her stomach flutter, except she knew exactly what he was.
Keiran McKenna was a rake. An unrepentant rogue. She’d known it the first time she’d met him on a rutted Scottish road.
But he’d proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt when she’d accompanied Clarissa to the inn. She’d been stewing about it for months. Eight actually. That was how long it had been since he’d held her close, filled her with heat and longing, and then ignored her completely.
“And you as well,” she gritted out as she picked a spot somewhere over his right shoulder to direct her gaze. She’d learned from experience not to look directly into his eyes. She’d likely get lost in those eyes. Gray like the sea on a cloudy day and just as deep and endless. And it was important that she remember what their beauty hid: a roguish heart.
“Agnes!” Clarissa’s voice rang through the entry as she stepped into view on the balcony above. Ewan bounded up the stairs to meet his wife, leaving Agnes to stand with Keiran and her mother.
Ewan reached his wife at the top of the steps. Then, wrapping his arms about her, he gave her a long kiss. Agnes felt heat fill her cheeks.
It was indecent, of course, such a public display of affection, but that wasn’t what was embarrassing. Of late, she’d found herself wondering what it might be like to be kissed in such a way, and if she wasn’t careful, it was Keiran McKenna she pictured giving her that kiss.
“Warms the heart to see them in love like that,” Keiran murmured next to her.
She gave a delicate sniff. She wished she were stronger. If she were, she’d tell him that he likely had no heart, but that wasn’t her way. “I’m very happy for them both.” And she was. No one deserved love like that more than her cousin.
Ewan began helping Clarissa down the stairs. Their progress was slow as Clarissa half-waddled from step to step.
“It was good of ye to come.” Keiran cleared his throat. “I ken they’re both anxious about the baby.”
Agnes’s cheeks heated for another reason entirely: anger at his high-handedness, telling her how her own cousin felt. “I know she is anxious. I don’t need you to tell me—”
Her mother gave her a sharp look, ending her tirade.
Clamping her mouth closed, she concentrated on Clarissa, who’d finally reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ve missed you both so much,” Clarissa beamed as she opened her arms.
Agnes raced over to her cousin, picking up her skirts as she went and flung her arms around her cousin. “I’ve missed you too.”
Her mother followed, giving Clarissa a much more demure and proper greeting.
But Agnes had missed her cousin terribly. They’d been like sisters. Their fathers were brothers, and each having a single daughter, they’d grown up together.
“Have you had a wonderful time exploring Scotland?” Clarissa asked, beaming at them both.
Clarissa’s smile warmed Agnes. It had been fun, but the truth was, it just hadn’t been the same without Clarissa. “It was lovely, but I am so glad to be here with you.” She hugged her cousin again.
To Agnes’s complete surprise, Clarissa’s stomach gave a jolt as they pressed together. Clarissa laughed. “The baby is saying hello.”
Agnes’s eyes rounded. “That was the baby?” Then, despite herself, she dropped to her knees and placed her hands over Clarissa’s belly. Another movement bounced under her hand and Agnes gave a giggle of delight. “Oh, Clarissa,” she gushed. “How marvelous.”
Ewan cleared his throat. “It is. I’ve my hands on her belly every chance I get.”
Agnes stood, realizing she should have waited for a more private moment. As she turned back, she noticed Keiran studying her intently.
“Ainsley and my Aunt Rhona are coming as well,” Clarissa reached for Agnes’s hands as she directed the conversation back to safer ground.
Excitement bubbled in Agnes. Ainsley, while intent upon getting her own way, was also loads of fun. “What about Fiona or Emilia?” They were Clarissa’s other two cousins on her mother’s side.
Clarissa shook her head. “Fiona is also expecting and Emilia is staying with Uncle Haggis. He’d never admit it, but he doesn’t like to be alone.”
“Men rarely do,” her mother chimed in. “What about your parents, Clarissa? Are they coming?”
“Oh, yes.” Clarissa radiated happiness. It was so different from before she’d met Ewan, and Agnes was so pleased to see it. “They should arrive any day now. It will be a house full.”
Agnes gave a sigh. It would be wonderful. She glanced back at Keiran, who was still watching her, and gave a small sigh of relief. At least he would be staying at his own house.
“Keiran has also agreed to stay here,” Ewan announced to the group. “He’s volunteered to help run the estate while I am aiding Clarissa with the baby.”
Keiran watched Agnes, his chest tight. It was near painful to witness her in almost any situation, but more so in one such as this.
When surrounded by people, it became painfully obvious how much she liked everyone else but him as her face puckered in distaste at Ewan’s announcement.
Her clear blue eyes met his again, and then she looked away quickly, her thick blonde hair, tossing over her shoulder.
He’d not lie, he wanted to bury his hands in th
at hair and turn her until those raspberry-kissed lips were under his. He’d bet she made the most adorable sounds when she was kissed. He stopped his mind because she was looking at him again. So was Ewan, and one of his friend’s eyebrows lifted near to his hairline.
Keiran realized he was grimacing and forced his face to relax. It was always this way around Agnes. When Ewan had been courting Clarissa, they’d spent a few weeks trapped under the same roof. He’d found her increasingly compelling while she seemed more and more irritated by his presence. Then he’d touched her at the inn. The memory was burned into his mind and he’d replayed it over and over these long months.
She beamed another smile at Clarissa and Keiran gritted his teeth even while he rearranged the rest of his face into a mask of calm.
He had to stop thinking about her like this. First, because it was painfully obviously she didn’t fancy him—with one notable exception, that is. That night at the inn, she wanted his kiss.
But more importantly because Agnes was as innocent as they came. He was too dark to ever be with someone like her. The war had changed him. Most likely he’d never marry at all.
Ewan wrapped his arm around his wife again, looking down at her with such obvious love that Keiran had to look away. He couldn’t explain why, but it made his heart hurt.
Agnes, on the other hand, looked thrilled.
Their trunks were brought in, and then the ladies were all escorted upstairs, Clarissa going with them. Keiran watched the sway of Agne’s delicious hips as she worked her way toward the second floor. She didn’t glance back at him again, which both relieved and annoyed him.
A Scot's Surrender: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 3) Page 1
