Return of the Scot: The Scots of Honor Series

by Knight, Eliza

“Och, do no’ kid yourself,” Lorne said. “That woman was never mine.”

  Shanna’s mouth dropped open, an unladylike snort popping out of it. “Jaime, are ye going to let him speak about me that way?”

  Jaime, who’d been silent up to this point, let out a short, bitter laugh. “Ye can no’ be serious.”

  Shanna’s jaw dropped lower, her shock palpable.

  “I’d close your mouth, else risk a bat flying in.” Jaime pursed her lips, looking as ready for a fight as Lorne felt.

  Lorne had never heard that kind of statement before, but it seemed to work as Shanna did close her mouth. The woman crossed her arms over her chest and glared at his duchess. Not that her misdirected anger made a difference. Jaime did not back down.

  Lorne turned to Mungo. “Search their belongings for the Magnus sword.”

  Mungo nodded and left the room with Gille protesting loudly, “Do no’ touch my things, ye mewling lapdog! Ye have no right—”

  “Oh, brother,” Lorne said, “do shut up. Ye’re in no position to argue or negotiate. Ye’re lucky I’ve no’ had ye arrested.”

  Gille whipped back around, his cheeks ruddy with anger. “Arrested? For what crime?”

  Lorne ticked off the reasons casually on his fingers. “Breach of contract, theft, embezzlement—the list goes on.”

  “Breach of contract?” Gille’s arms flung about wildly, in danger of knocking into Shanna or the marble bust of King Robert the Bruce. “I’ve no contract with ye. Lies!”

  Och, but this was going to be exhausting. Lorne wished it were already over. “Aye, but I had a contract with your wife, Shanna, and ye aided her in breaking it.”

  “All right, that is true. But nothing else. Not the castle. How can I be blamed for the theft of something that was my own?” This time the back of Gille’s hand did come into contact with Robert the Bruce’s nose, and his brother yanked his hand back, glaring at the bust as if it had bitten him on purpose.

  “It was never yours.” Lorne held out his arms. “I’m no’ dead.”

  “This is preposterous.” Gille rubbed his hand, a little bit of spittle flying from his mouth to land on his knuckle.

  “As is your behavior,” Lorne said, trying to keep his tone bored. “Some things never change, I suppose. Were ye no’ given everything ye wanted?”

  “No. I was no’ and I resent ye for that,” Gille had the audacity to say. “Even when ye had gone to war, and I was left in charge, the blasted people of this medieval clan would no’ defer to me. It was always ‘What would Lorne do? What would Lorne say? That’s no’ how Lorne does it.’” He quoted these queries in a singsong, nasally voice that made Lorne want to knock him out. “One grows rather tired of such idiotic statements.”

  “Or perhaps ye were the idiot, as is evidenced now.” Lorne tried to convey his disinterest, which was an effort in willpower. Every inch of him wanted to break out into a furious diatribe. But his brother was a stubborn fool and a self-righteous one at that. Anything Lorne said, Gille would not accept. His brother only wanted to hear what he had in his own mind, and men like that could not be contended with. Best to let it lie where it was and state only the facts.

  Lorne glanced down at Jaime, who had a protective arm around her nephew, and the lad looked back and forth between them all, something vulnerable in his eyes.

  Mungo returned then with the sword, and without Lorne having to tell him, placed it back where it belonged.

  “My duchess still holds the deed to the castle,” Lorne said. “So even as ye hoped to gain the cash and the lands, ye were gravely mistaken in that step, beyond the blatant reality that ye could no’ have legally sold my property.”

  “Duchess?” Gille sputtered. “Ye married her?”

  “Ye little thief,” Shanna hissed at Jaime.

  This time it was Jaime who answered, sounding rather wearied herself. “Oh, Shanna, do no’ be ridiculous. I know the truth of what ye did, how ye spurned him for half a man. What was there to steal when ye’d already run off with your lover? Lorne came to me willingly. And as he stated, he was never yours.”

  “Half a man?” Gille was practically purple at that insult. “I should have paid those bastards twice as much to make ye disappear,” Gille shouted, stabbing his finger toward Lorne.

  Paid to make him disappear… That was a surprise. “Pardon?” Lorne blinked in shock.

  Shanna’s head whipped toward her lover, and she slapped his arm. Gille blanched, clearly regretting saying those words aloud.

  “What he means is, he would have paid for ye to disappear,” Shanna said. “But of course, he would never do that because it would be wrong. Right?”

  “He did it,” Gordie said, his small voice steady. “I heard him say he did on the ship.”

  “Ye little bastard,” Gille shouted toward the lad. Fists bunched, he marched forward.

  However, Lorne need not have punched his brother in the mouth because Mungo did it for him, knocking Gille to the ground with Shanna screaming in frantic panic beside him.

  “Sorry, Your Grace, but it could no’ be helped.”

  “Completely understand. He deserved it. And if ye’d no’ have done it, I would,” Lorne said. “Ye have my permission to do so again should the situation require it.”

  “My pleasure, Your Grace.” Mungo bowed his head, then stepped back to his spot by the door.

  Shanna glanced to Lorne, to Jaime and her son. “How could ye allow him to be beaten?”

  “How could ye see nothing wrong with him paying for Lorne to be imprisoned? For him being about to beat your child for telling the truth? Shanna, ye are astounding in your selfishness.”

  “My selfishness?” Shanna screeched, turning as purple and ugly as her husband. How had Lorne ever found her pretty? “What about ye? Ye stole everything from me.”

  “I did no such thing.” Jaime sounded exasperated now. This stupid argument was taking a toll on her.

  “Our parents, the inheritance, the business, my husband. My child.” This time, her pointed glare landed on the lad who sank deeper against Jaime. “There, you have it.” Shanna pointed accusingly at Jaime. “He prefers ye, always has. I want to wipe that pitying look off your face.”

  “I see,” Jaime said, without even a spark of the anger her sister had just spewed at her. “Well, that’s unfortunate, Shanna, for all I can do is pity ye. Legions of women were jealous of ye. Daughter of a lord, a castle in Ireland as your dowry, the attentions of a duke. London and Edinburgh seasons. The best gowns and slippers. And even when ye fell from grace, our parents allowed ye to stay at their Irish castle anyway. Your exile was the same as someone else’s fantasy. Yet, it was no’ good enough. Even when I, feeling awful that ye had been ill-used, believed your lies, and brought ye back to Edinburgh. Fed ye, clothed ye, spoiled ye all over again. And to what purpose—all so ye could go behind my back. Ye might as well have stabbed me with the Sutherland sword.”

  Jaime shook her head as if the things she said were the saddest in the world. Then, her gaze directed at her sister—the pity gone, replaced by strength and by authority. “But hear this now—ye will return to Ireland. Ye and your lover. And ye will no’ set foot in Scotland again. Gordie is going to remain here with Lorne and me. We will raise him as our own—as the son ye proclaimed belonged to Lorne.”

  “Ye canna do that! He is no’ the father of my son. I never touched him.” Shanna looked ready to attack them all, snarling like a rabid dog.

  “Pity ye should have claimed such for the last decade then. All of society believes he is the duke’s son. It is only proper for a duke to claim his son and take him from the mother.”

  “Gille, say something,” Shanna begged her lover, who was now rousing on the floor.

  “Oh, do let the little welp go already, Shanna. Ye told me yourself ye loathed being a mother and I can no’ abide to look at his judging eyes another minute. He’s more Lorne’s son than anyone else’s, sharing that same disdainful expression. Who cares if I
was the one to plant the seed?”

  Lorne wanted to pummel Gille into unconsciousness again. He didn’t even recognize the man as his brother, so foul and cruel as he was.

  “I want to stay here,” Gordie said, his voice even as he blinked up at Jaime and then at Lorne. “Does no’ anyone care to ask me? Aunt Jaime, please, I want to stay.”

  Lorne was surprised at how much the lad did remind him of himself. Even at the tender age of eight, he was not afraid to make his desires known.

  “And so ye shall,” Jaime said, then glanced at Lorne. “Right?”

  “Aye, of course,” Lorne said, keeping his eyes on the lad. He ruffled his dark hair, eliciting a tentative smile from the child. “Mrs. Blair, would ye please escort Lord Gille and his wife to their chamber? Mungo will accompany ye to make certain everything goes well. We wish ye a good rest, since you’re going to need it for your journey back to Ireland tomorrow. And thank ye ever so much for returning the sword and the lad.”

  “That’s all I’ll be returning to ye, ye bastard,” Gille shouted. “Son of a whore…” He continued spewing vulgarity that Lorne only blinked at.

  “Pardon me, Your Grace,” Mungo interjected. “But I do believe there is a large chest in your study that also belongs to ye. Found it in the carriage. And if I may beat the man once more?”

  “Ye stole my money!” Gille screeched.

  Lorne wanted to shout, “Aye, please shut him up,” but Gille was so loud, it took all his calm not to start bellowing himself.

  “I’ve heard quite enough of this,” Lorne muttered. “Thank ye, Mungo. That will no’ be necessary this time. Gille, if ye do no’ want to spend the night in the dungeon, I suggest ye either leave or go with Mrs. Blair to your chamber.”

  “We are leaving.” Gille grabbed Shanna by the hand. “Now. And ye’ll pay for this.”

  “I highly doubt that. For if ye come after me, my wife, or the lad, I will have ye tossed into the closest jail cell and make certain ye rot in it forever.”

  Shanna, for her part, did not argue at all. She sniffed the air as some of the more snobbish ladies at court and whirled on her heel, marching out of Dunrobin much as she’d marched around society—high-and-mighty, even when brought low.

  Jaime took Lorne’s hand in hers, glancing up at him, and mouthed, “Thank ye.”

  He winked down at her, certain that they’d done the right thing. As the big door to the castle slammed closed, he was not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. Wee Gordie looked ready to collapse at his liberation.

  “Ye promise never to let me go again?” Gordie asked Jaime.

  “I swear on my life, sweet lad.” She pulled him in for a hug and kissed his forehead.

  Lorne gathered them both up in his arms, holding them until Mungo returned to signal that Gille and Shanna had gone.

  “Gordie, how do ye feel about boxing?” he asked.

  The lad’s face lit up, and he leapt away from Jaime, holding up his hands in the perfect stance. “I learned a lot at the docks.”

  Lorne grinned. “I think we’re going to get along fine then.” He ruffled the lad’s hair. “Now run along with Mrs. Blair. She’ll see ye set up in a room of your own.”

  Gordie ran off as if he had not a care in the world, and Lorne wished adults could bounce back so readily. When he was gone, Lorne put his arms around Jaime, and she sagged against his chest.

  “Ye showed great restraint,” she said.

  “Only for your sake, my love. I would have very much liked to teach him a lesson. As it is, he will never understand the gift we’ve given him.”

  “They do no’ deserve our kindness.”

  “Nay, they do no’.” He tilted her chin up, pressed his mouth to hers. “But as I often reminded myself when I was imprisoned—the best way to beat your enemy is to succeed. And, my darling wife, we have done that in spades.”

  Jaime wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers threading into his hair as she tugged him down for another kiss. “I love ye.”

  Epilogue

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Several weeks later

  The gymnasium at Sutherland Gate was alive with shouts and laughter. In the ring, Jaime circled her husband, while on the ground, surrounding them, stood their onlookers.

  Gordie cheered them on, along with Malcolm, Alec, Euan, Mungo, MacInnes and even Mrs. Blair and Alison, who fretted in unison.

  This was one of Lorne and Jaime’s very favorite pastimes—besides the other activities they liked to enjoy in private, which were also as stimulating and vigorous. And tonight would be the icing on the cake—for they were going to have their ball on the ship and give the Shanna a new name—the Emilia.

  “Ye’ve been practicing,” Lorne accused with a wide grin.

  “Gordie makes an excellent sparring partner.” She feinted left and then gave Lorne a swift punch on the right.

  Lorne laughed and jumped back, as he always did when she hit him. He claimed they didn’t hurt, but she’d never tell him she didn’t hit as hard as she could, just like he never connected at all. The only thing he did to take her down was wrap his arms around her and pin her either upright against him or down on the ring mat. And when in private, all he had to do was kiss her, and she lost all sense of time and place, sinking into pleasure.

  They’d been back in Edinburgh for the last two weeks, after having stayed at Dunrobin an extra week getting Gordie settled and enjoying a bit of privacy themselves before their new lives would begin. It had also given their households time to move her belongings into Sutherland Gate. But rather than sell her flat, she kept it as an inheritance for her nephew.

  Emilia had been a wonderful asset for Andrewson Shipping while Jaime was away. Jaime was so impressed that she added another woman to her staff, Emilia’s sister. Anastasia was doing splendidly, and Jaime was glad for the extra help now that she had Gordie to take care of. And one day, she’d have children of her own.

  But that didn’t keep her from coming into the office each day, often with the young lad in tow. After all, Jaime had decided that one day, the company would be his. Lorne had even taken an interest in helping, and she’d been glad to show him the ropes too. It made talking about her plans much easier if he actually knew what she was referring to. And besides, Andrewson Shipping had always been a family company. Lorne and Gordie were her family now. And by extension, so were Emilia and Anastasia.

  The thump of Lorne’s feet on the boxing mat brought her back to reality. He came barreling toward her, arms outstretched, ready to wrap her up. But Jaime bounced and twirled out of his way, a fake kick on his rear as she managed to get behind him. Their onlookers cheered and laughed at that. Taking a second too long to smile at her audience was her downfall, however.

  Always quick on his feet, Lorne spun and enfolded an arm around her waist, lifting her into the air.

  “Got ye,” he said triumphantly, spinning with her held against him.

  “And so ye did.” She planted a kiss on his lips, all too swift with the company present.

  “Who is next?” Lorne said to the crowd as he set her down on her feet. “They get to go against me, as I’ve won.”

  Alec raised his hand. “I would have much rather gone against your wife, but I suppose ye’ll do.”

  Jaime laughed. “Perhaps the duke will go easy on ye and simply hoist ye into the air rather than land a blow.”

  Alec snickered, climbing up through the rings. “Do ye think he’ll expect me to kiss him too?”

  “He might.”

  “Try it and die,” Lorne threatened with a mock growl.

  Jaime gave Lorne one last kiss and then scrambled out of the ring to stand with her nephew.

  “I call winner,” Gordie shouted with glee.

  Jaime smiled on with love at her new family, her new friends. In the grand scheme of things, she was the winner in the room. Before Lorne had come bursting back into her life, she’d not realized how truly miserable she was. Living onl
y for work, for the comfort of an ungrateful sister, not partaking in the simple pleasures of life. Or boxing, for that matter, a sport she’d not even known she liked until Lorne.

  Now her eyes were open, and she was filled with love and joy. With a bit of planning and some help, she intended to live every day the way she wanted—to the fullest. And with her heart bursting.

  Jaime’s gaze settled on her husband as he bounced around the ring, dodging, blocking, passing blows. He was more handsome to her now than he’d been a decade ago. And she couldn’t help smiling, a soft sigh on her lips as the crowd let out a whoop.

  This was her dream come true.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed RETURN OF THE SCOT, please spread the word by leaving a review on the site where you purchased your copy, or a reader site such as Goodreads! I love to hear from readers! Visit me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elizaknightfiction. I’m also on Instagram @ElizaKnightFiction and Twitter: @ElizaKnight Many thanks!

  Stay tuned for more of Eliza’s brand new Scottish Regency series — SCOTS OF HONOR!

  Highland war heroes rebuilding their lives grapple with ladies forging their own paths—who will win?

  Regency Scotland comes alive in the vibrant and sexy new SCOTS OF HONOR series by USA Today bestselling author Eliza Knight. Scottish military heroes, who want nothing more than to lay low after the ravages of war in 19th century France, find their Highland homecomings vastly contradict their simple desires. Especially when they meet the feisty lasses who are tenacious enough to take them on, and show them just what they’ve been missing out of life. In battle they can’t be beaten, but in love, they all find the ultimate surrender.

  Return of the Scot

  The Scot is Hers

  Taming the Scot

  * * *

  Want to read more Scottish romance novels by Eliza?

  Check out her Stolen Bride Series!

  The Highlander’s Temptation