When William returned, he looked no less angry. “Isla,” his voice held a low fury.
She clasped her hands. Normally she would have argued her case but William had never found fault in her and it was as though the tide was changing. Instead of fighting, her voice pleaded, “I’m even wearing my boots, see. Petticoats, pantaloons, not even mother could take fault.”
His eyes softened. He reached out and grasped the ends of her silky hair giving it a tug. He had been doing that as long as she could remember. “Isla, it’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, this time, but that you are too beautiful to be gallivanting off by yourself. It just isn’t safe.”
“Will, I’ll perish from boredom if I have to sit inside all day listening to those women gossip and prattle.”
“I’ll not tell father but you must ride with one of us. And you must keep your hair back and all of your clothes on.”
She didn’t argue but she didn’t agree either. It would crush her spirit to be caged like that but Will would not have issued the warning if he didn’t think it was necessary.
Isla almost never cried. It was for babies, and for women who were weak. But that night, she had laid in bed and let the tears fall. Mostly because she knew it was the beginning of the end to the life she treasured above all else.
She snapped back to the present as, off in the distance, several riders appeared. Her mother reached over and tucked a curl in her perfectly coiffed chiffon.
Moving her head to remove herself from her mother’s grasp, she scanned the riders approaching. There had to be eight of them, many wearing tartans. Hearing her mother huff, Isla rolled her eyes. Her mother desperately wanted Isla to be a daughter of dresses and fashion, with kisses and cuddles, rather than a hellion on horseback.
The blue, red, and green of the riders’ tartans came into focus. Brawny legs and wide shoulders graced the top of giant steeds. Mayhap, Isla’s uncle was correct, a Scottish bridegroom might be a good choice.
To her knowledge, there were three Scottish landholders whose land bordered her father’s. She knew their sons had been invited. There was perhaps a father or two in the group as well but that only accounted for five or six of the men. Second sons would not be asked, only the eldest.
She went through them in her head. Collin MacPherson. He was a good man, had been a good boy but she had rarely given him her attention since she could best him with an arrow, on a horse, or swimming in a creek.
The features of Angus Mackinnon came into focus and she groaned inwardly, rude and often ill-kept, he had a terrible temper to match his brawny size.
She scanned the group, finding Fergal Campbell amongst the other men. Honestly, she expected to marry Fergal. It wasn’t that he made her breath stop, or that he filled her with longing, it was simply that they got on particularly well. He had never minded her boyish ways and could mostly keep up. She had enjoyed his company immensely until he began mooning over her. She had complained about it once and her mother had laughed then told her two things. The first was that if she were determined to marry Fergal then the relationship would reach an equilibrium once they entered the marriage bed. But then she had cryptically added. “If you’re not mooning back then perhaps you don’t want to marry him after all.”
Isla was still attempting to reconcile her mother’s words. Should she feel a greater affection for the man she married? And how would the marriage bed cure a man of acting love sick? She knew about the act, she thought. But the emotion that tied into it, seemed a mystery entirely. Why would Fergal be more content once they shared a marriage bed? Would she?
It didn’t matter now because Fergal was the second son and her father decided he wanted her to marry a potential business partner. Isla had never met his older brother, having been in London for his formal education for as long as Isla could remember.
A stranger in Campbell’s blue tartan rode near the front of the group with a boy riding in front of him. Bigger than the rest, his dark eyes pierced into her. That couldn’t be Fergal’s brother Gavin. How could he be that much bigger than his brother, and who was the boy?
As they drew closer, Isla seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the piercing dark gaze of the man. His features were sharp in a way that made him look near dangerous but excitingly so. It was evident that he was well muscled and broad through his shoulders. He rode with an easy grace that hypnotized Isla, she could not look away.
“That must be Gavin,” her mother whispered, sounding as awed as Isla felt. “I didna know he was so…. large.”
“That is one word to describe him. Who is the child?” Isla whispered back.
Her father overheard them and gave them a frown. “Their youngest brother. Haggis’ new wife bore him five years ago.”
Isla gave a nod. They had been married near ten, but Haggis was his ‘new wife’s’ senior by fifteen years at least, having lost his first wife in child birth. She had never met his new wife or the baby, the new Mrs. Campbell preferred to stay at home.
The men had moved close enough so that Isla could see their individual expressions. Fergal gave her a grin, in his usual way, and she smile back, relaxing for the first time that day. She gave him a genuine smile in return and glanced back at the man who must be Gavin, but his features were set in hard lines of that displayed little emotion. The riders stopped a few feet away and her father issued a warm greeting. “Thank you all for coming.”
Each dismounted, as her father addressed them individually, nodding his return greeting and glancing furtively at Isla. Collin was first and a slight blush stained his cheeks as he nodded to her. “Miss Isabelle,” he murmured.
Isla stamped her foot but no one noticed under the layers of voluminous skirts. Collin had always called her Isla.
Angus leered as he was introduced and her fingers clenched around her fan. If given the chance, she would knock his teeth out.
Finally her father turned to the Campbells. “Gavin, it has been a long time and I’m glad to see you but I must confess to be curious where your father is.”
Gavin’s already stony features grew even harder. “My father passed this winter. I decided to tell you in person rather than write.” Like her mother, Gavin’s voice help a muted lilt that danced across her senses. It was a rich baritone that was almost musical. She would have enjoyed it immensely if not for the sad news it brought. John Campbell had spent many a times at their home and he would be missed.
Her father’s face held a moment of deep pain and then it was gone. “I’m sorry to hear that, Laird Campbell.” He gave him the respect now do to the head of the household. “And your stepmother?”
Isla saw his fingers clench. “She has passed as well.”
The crowd gasped at the news.
CHAPTER TWO
“Can I asked what happened?” her father’s shocked voice spoke what all were thinking.
“She died of consumption deep in the winter. My father passed a month later, we can only assume of grief. He never meant to be widowed a second time. I’ve only returned from London for the past few weeks to begin sorting through the estate.”
“Your father always had a keen mind for business, there can’t be so much―“
Gavin gave the tiniest shake of his head. “We’ve much to discuss.”
“I can see that. Let’s all step inside.”
Isla sighed with relief. Usually she spent all day outdoors but with all the infernal layers of clothing she was wearing, sweat was traveling in rivulets down her back. How did aristocratic women put up with this daily? Angus moved next to her and she tried not to grit her teeth. Normally she might have outstripped him to avoid his company but not today. No wonder her mother had dressed her such. “You’ve always been a beauty but today you are delectable. I might want to eat―“
“Angus,” her brother Will called from the back of the group. “What news from the North?”
She tapped her fan on her stomach again desperately resisting the urge to beat Angus with it. If
ever there was a man who deserved a beating, it was him. Will gave her a long look and Isla understood his meaning. Will would keep Angus from becoming a problem and she was not to beat her suitors. Pity.
“Are ye still riding, lass?” Collin’s brogue washed over her. He was a handsome man with blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea.
“Not as much,” she replied, regret lacing her voice.
Collin didn’t seem to hear it because he gave her a winning smile. “Well, I see you’re growing up.”
Isla’s mouth fell open and then she quickly snapped it closed. That had always been the issue with Collin. He didn’t understand her. It wasn’t a passing fancy, she wasn’t being childish. It was who she was, singing in her blood like the sea to a sailor, the heather to a Scot. “And I see that you’ve not changed a bit.” She smiled back and he returned her grin, completely unaware it had been an insult and not a compliment. Her younger brother, Tom, gave her a long look over Collin’s head.
As if to taunt her near heat exhaustion, Thomas called over. “Collin, let’s swim this afternoon. The spring rains have the creek full to the brim.”
“Scottish bath,” Angus cackled. “I’ll be joinin’ ye too.”
Thomas was fifteen and full of life and mischief and often her partner in crime. But not today, he was leaving her behind to enjoy what she could not. Her mouth pinched and she was about to tap her fan on her stomach again when she sensed another set of eyes upon her.
Glancing to her left, Gavin or rather, Laird Campbell, was assessing her. His look was as hard and uncompromising as it had been when he arrived. Butterflies flitted in her stomach.
The doors swung open as several servants stepped out to greet their guests. Refreshments would be laid in the dining room and then then everyone would sojourn to rest for the afternoon. Or rather the men would frolic in the river while she was stuffed into her hot and stuffy bed chamber to die of boredom. At least, she’d be able to take off these clothes.
Her father moved next to her, placing his hand under her elbow as they crossed the threshold. He motioned to Gavin who joined him on Isla’s other side. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” her father murmured.
“And I yours. I know he counted you one of his dearest friends.” Gavin’s voice held the warmth his face did not.
“What has transpired with his estate?”
Gavin seemed to hesitate. “He loved Agnus dearly, she and John filled him with life again but…” Gavin paused.
Her father nodded. “He stopped working when he wed her.”
“Yes, I tried to return from London to take over but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“How bad is it?” Her father’s voice was grim.
“Not that bad. I can correct it. As you said, he had a great many years of running the estate well. But a lumber contract would greatly help the cause.” Gavin was wasting no time in telling her father what he wanted.
“And a wife could help you with little John,” her father returned easily.
There it was again. She was being treated like cattle to be sold. Her fan snapped against her stomach, again clicking against the beads on her dress. Both men glanced at her.
“With all due respect, Lord Maddox, I don’t need a wife, just a lumber contract.”
Isla stopped walking for a second but her father pulled her forward. The only thing worse than having to marry was being talked about like she wasn’t even there, while being rejected. “I’ll have you--” she started but her father promptly cut her off.
“Isabelle’s husband gets the contract. It’s a family business and will remain as such. As is the contract I received for the ships. Think it over.” Her father started to pull her away.
Digging in her heels, Isla halted their progress. “Or don’t,” she added. This meeting was only minutes in, but Isla had near had enough. She did not need any man dismissing her. As his grey eyes locked with her blue ones, the other scathing words about to fall from her lips, suddenly went silent. They were beautiful and penetrating and as hard as the lines of his face and everything about of him spoke of a power underneath that was only highlighted by the steel grey of his eyes. Another woman might have been frightened but she was invigorated.
“Isla,” her father snapped.
“Isla?” Gavin asked. Her name on his lips caused a tingling to spread through her body.
“Aye,” she matched his subtle brogue with her own.
“And why are you an island?” His eyes still held hers captive as he spoke the words.
Everyone had stopped speaking and all eyes were on them. Isla took a breath and then spread her fan, cooling her heating skin. Straightening her back, she attempted to give her own penetrating stare. “I am the only daughter.” It was answer her mother and father wanted her to give.
Her family practically sighed with relief and she could see everyone relax but Gavin raised his eyebrows, looking around the group. His lips parted slightly as he looked around and Isla was immediately drawn to his mouth. Full and soft, unlike the rest of his face. It was as if they called to her to touch them.
“Why don’t we talk in my study.” Her father gestured toward the stairs and Gavin gave a single nod as he followed the other man. Unable to look away, Isla watched them until they were out of sight.
The other guests were quick to retire to their rooms, or other activities and Isla, for once, was thankful to return to her room. She entered the sanctuary and immediately called for hers lady’s maid. She wanted a reprieve from the heavy clothing she was wearing.
But before the woman could get her out of the clothing, another maid tapped on the door. “Excuse me, miss,” she called softly as she opened the door. “But your father has requested that you fetch your brother on the river. He is needed in the study.”
Isla gave the woman a long look. Casting her eyes to the floor the other woman curtseyed and left.
“You’re going to scare Mary,” Elizabeth, her maid chided lightly.
“I didna mean to. But my father is up to something but I canna decide what it might be.”
“There must be someone down there he wants you to see.” Elizabeth shrugged.
Of course there was and it was most likely Gavin Campbell, new laird. She stepped out into the sun, Gavin was a mystery. His looks he’d thrown her way hadn’t been exactly warm, and nearly everything about him was granite hard. Neither frightened her as she was not the softest woman herself but she could not marry a man who didn’t have a good heart.
She reached the swimming hole in the creek that eventually led to the ocean where her father had his shipping yard. Fergal, Angus and Thomas where all basking in the water close to the bank. The creek ran fast this year with all the spring rain so the men stayed close to the side.
“Thomas, Papa wants you,” she called to her brother.
“What does he want?” Thomas called lazily.
“If I knew, I would tell ye, but I dunna.” She turned to leave.
“Isla, help me out. I’ll never do it on my own,” Thomas called.
“I’m not in much of a position to help.” She lifted her skirt to take a tentative closer. It was rocky here and she couldn’t make out her steps. As she looked at her feet, Thomas jumped up and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the water. She held herself for a second but then her balance gave out and she tipped into the water. A howl of fury emitted from her mouth just before she splashed under the water.
Isla knew she was in trouble almost immediately. She was a strong swimmer but the corset was restricting her and all of the clothing was weighing her down. She crested her head of the water to see the men laughing but the swift current dragged her back down below the surface. Kicking with all her might, she crested the water’s surface again to grab a gasp of breath but Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
Her head went back under water and she kicked with every muscle in her lower body, her arms clawing to the surface, but the fear she wasn’t going to make it was ravaging her mind.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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.
You can learn more about Tammy, or sign up for her newsletter, by visiting her website. www.tammyandresen.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/tammyandresen
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What the Critics are saying
“The characters are well-developed and interesting, the plot is edge-of-your-seat intriguing, and the setting is one with so much history. If you are a fan of history mixed with mystery and intrigue, you won't be disappointed.” Linda Thompson THE AUTHOR SHOW
“While the relationship between Lily and Eric is the primary focus of this story, the mystery/supense factor is what kept this from being JUST a historical romance. Lily in Bloom was a fast-paced, romantic read that I absoutely LOVED.” http://alysenovak.blogspot.com
”… it held not only a pure romance but the simple magic that goes with it. I was enchanted with this story from the beginning until the end and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted it to go on.” Robin
Table of Contents
Taming a Duke's Wild Rose
Copyright
Titles by Tammy Andresen
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Taming a Duke's Wild Rose: Taming the Heart Series Book 2 Page 14
