The Scotsman Who Saved Me

by Hannah Howell

  THE SCOTSMAN WHO KISSED ME

  Iain put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Studying her face for a moment, he saw no rejection. If anyone asked, he would have to say it was indecision mixed with a hint of curiosity. He did not blame her for the indecision but he would ignore it. He bent his head and kissed her.

  Emily placed her hands on his chest to push him away but the moment his mouth covered hers, she clutched at his shirt. She opened to the gentle prod of his tongue. His kiss clouded her mind even as it heated her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight, pressing her body up close against his. It was scandalous of her but she enjoyed it.

  Desire was not something she had any knowledge of but Emily was sure that was what was flooding her body as he moved his kisses to her neck. She shivered as the feel of the heat of his mouth ran through her body. When he returned to her mouth, taking it a bit roughly, she was as eager as he seemed to be....

  Books by Hannah Howell

  THE MURRAYS

  Highland Destiny

  Highland Honor

  Highland Promise

  Highland Vow

  Highland Knight

  Highland Bride

  Highland Angel

  Highland Groom

  Highland Warrior

  Highland Conqueror

  Highland Champion

  Highland Lover

  Highland Barbarian

  Highland Savage

  Highland Wolf

  Highland Sinner

  Highland Protector

  Highland Avenger

  Highland Master

  Highland Guard

  Highland Chieftain

  THE WHERLOCKES

  If He’s Wicked

  If He’s Sinful

  If He’s Wild

  If He’s Dangerous

  If He’s Tempted

  If He’s Daring

  If He’s Noble

  VAMPIRE ROMANCE

  Highland Vampire

  The Eternal Highlander

  My Immortal Highlander

  Highland Thirst

  Nature of the Beast

  Yours for Eternity

  Highland Hunger

  Born to Bite

  STAND-ALONE NOVELS

  Only for You

  My Valiant Knight

  Unconquered

  Wild Roses

  A Taste of Fire

  A Stockingful of Joy

  Highland Hearts

  Reckless

  Conqueror’s Kiss

  Beauty and the Beast

  Highland Wedding

  Silver Flame

  Highland Fire

  Highland Captive

  My Lady Captor

  Wild Conquest

  Kentucky Bride

  Compromised Hearts

  Stolen Ecstasy

  Highland Hero

  His Bonnie Bride

  SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN SCOTSMEN

  The Scotsman Who Saved Me

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  The Scotsman Who Saved Me

  HANNAH HOWELL

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  THE SCOTSMAN WHO KISSED ME

  Books by Hannah Howell

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Hannah Howell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4303-4

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4304-1

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4304-2

  Chapter One

  Arkansas Ozarks, 1860

  “Is that smoke I smell?”

  Iain MacEnroy glanced at his youngest brother, Robbie, who was sniffing the air like a hound tracking a wounded fox. As he opened his mouth to say just that the smell hit him. The breeze did carry the strong, acrid smell of smoke, wood smoke. Since he saw no sign that the trees they rode through were on fire he suspected someone’s cabin was burning. It was not an unusual problem but it could mean trouble for them. He halted his mount and struggled to determine where the smoke was coming from.

  “We are riding right toward it,” he said. “Do we go on?”

  “Aye,” said Matthew, the brother closest in age to him. “I suspicion it would be wise to ride in as if we approached an enemy.”

  “Good thinking.” Iain shifted his rifle so that it was easier for him to use it if needed and nudged his horse forward in a slow cautious pace. “Stay with the wagon, Duncan. And keep a close watch out, rifle at the ready,” he ordered the brother who was barely a year older than Robbie before fixing his full attention on their approach.

  The trees began to thin out but Iain and his brothers were careful to stay within the shadows. When the clearing appeared, Iain signaled a halt. He sighed when the source of the smoke proved to be a smoldering cabin just as he had suspected. He could see no bodies but they could easily be inside. To his relief he could also see no sign of the ones who had caused such destruction but then realized they could also still be inside.

  “I see no sign of Indians,” said Robbie.

  Iain dismounted. “Wasnae Indians. Nay sure there are any left in these hills.” He glanced at the tracks in the dirt, clear to see in the area around the edge of the clearing but tried to keep an eye on the house for any sign of movement. “Horses were shod. No arrows I can see. Wager we will find boot prints near to the cabin. I keep telling ye that the natives were driven out and we havenae heard or seen them slipping back. This was done by the vermin who slip about these hills doing what they please and none of it nice.”

  “Should we have a wee look inside?”

  “We will walk round the outside first and see what we can see before we step inside.” Iain stood and looked at the smoking cabin. “Robbie, ye could try throwing some water on any flames ye see. Just make sure there is no one who is a threat inside. We may need to step inside later and best if it isnae still burning.”

  It was in the back of the cabin that they found the dead. Iain sighed. The woman’s body had been left obscenely sprawled, naked and bloody, at the edge of an expansive garden heavy with ripened fruit and
vegetables. The man’s body had been pinned to the door and it was clear that he had been tortured. They were both rather young and Iain suspected they had once been a very handsome couple. He could see the remains of the beauty they had had before the ones who killed them had sliced up their faces. Iain had the chilling feeling that part of that torture had been forcing the man to watch as his woman or kinswoman was raped and butchered. Whoever had come here had been the worst of the worst that ran in these hills. They would definitely have to keep a watch out for them.

  “Have to wonder what they kenned that the enemy so badly wanted to know,” said Matthew as he stepped up next to Iain.

  “Aye, I thought the same. I also get the feeling they were nay just brutes who kill because they can. We certainly have enough of that sort in these hills. Nay, ye are right, they wanted something. Ye have to wonder what that something was that would make two people endure this. Sad as it is, it can only be good for us if this was some private fight, some very personal vendetta. Weel, best we get them buried.”

  “Ye want us to bury them?”

  “I will no leave them for the beasts to gnaw on. We have the time and we have the manpower to dig a grave. Get us some shovels.” He watched Matthew walk away and then moved to take the man’s body down.

  As he set the man’s body next to the woman’s he frowned at the man’s hands, something catching his eye, but he was not sure what. Scowling, he used a piece of the man’s shirt to wipe the blood off the man’s left hand. The gleam of a wide gold ring sparkled in the light of the sun. That told him that the killers had not been driven by the dark need to steal. No thief worth a thought would leave behind such a ring. This was born of some private battle, he thought again. He moved to the woman, straightened her tattered clothing as much as he could and carefully wiped clean her left hand to reveal another gold wedding band. She also wore an ornate gold locket around her neck.

  “Got the shovels.” Matthew cursed when he saw the locket. “So, it wasnae robbery.”

  “Nay.” Iain stood up and brushed off his clothes.

  “Then what reason did anyone have for killing them?”

  “I think trying to find the answer to that will take us time we dinnae have.”

  “But . . .” Matthew sputtered as Iain began to dig the needed grave, careful to toss the dirt away from the garden.

  “There is naught we can do except do them the courtesy of burying them. It is not much but I think they have suffered more than enough already.” Iain kept digging and only glanced briefly toward his brother who began to dig as well. “Where is Robbie?”

  “Getting what we have to collect up this harvest. I told him to. Sorry as we are for these folk, it makes no sense to leave good food to rot.”

  Robbie arrived a few moments later. Iain could see the horror that filled the eyes of the man who was barely out of boyhood. For most of Robbie’s life there had been little bloodletting done around him, and what little he had seen still hit him hard.

  “See if there are any blankets or the like in the barn, Rob,” he said. “We cannae take the time to build coffins but it would be nice if we could shroud the bodies.”

  Robbie nodded, his auburn hair falling into his eyes. “Why did they not take anything?”

  “They wanted these poor people to tell them something, I am thinking, and I also think they didnae get that information so they left. Go on, laddie. See if there is something we can use for a shroud.”

  As soon as his young brother was gone, Iain returned to the work of digging a grave with Matthew’s help. He did not think these two people would object to sharing a grave. At least he prayed not, for he had more than enough ghosts haunting him already. By the time Robbie returned with two blankets, well-worn and smelling faintly of horses, they had dug the grave. Iain felt uneasy about just tossing the bodies in the hole so he jumped down into the grave. It just seemed so disrespectful to throw them in the hole. He had Matthew hand each one down to him. Matthew handed down the man first and then the woman, who Iain tucked up at the man’s side.

  Pity filled him as he took a last look then bent to open the locket the woman wore, wanting a brief look at what she kept there. He stared at the small portraits inside. The man stood tall, well-dressed and smiling, on one side and the woman was on the other smiling sweetly down at the babe in her arms. They truly were a handsome couple and much too young to see the end of their lives.

  “Jesu,” he whispered, and scrambled out of the grave still clutching the locket. “She had a bairn, Matthew.” He showed his brother the pictures.

  They all looked to the cabin and Matthew sighed. “We dinnae ken how old that picture is. The child may well have died long ago.”

  Closing the locket, Iain shook his head. “True enough but I have to look. I have to.” He glanced down at the bodies. “Take the rings, too, Matthew. They are the kind one would pass on to a child.” He turned to Robbie. “Did ye hear or see anything when ye were putting out the fire?”

  Robbie shook his head. “Nay, but I was just looking for what needed water thrown on it. Keeping a watch on the fire took all my attention.”

  “We have to look.” He stuck the locket in his shirt and started toward the house.

  “They would have taken the bairn when they tried to flee,” said Matthew as he followed his brother.

  “There was no child with them.”

  “It isnae a big cabin. We can look close before we finish the burying.”

  Smoke and ash still tainted the air inside the cabin and all three men covered their noses and mouths with their bandanas. It was clear the fire had been meant to drive the couple out of the back and they had run right into the arms of their killers. There was a sort of viciousness to this attack that he had not seen in a long time. Painful memories he resented were being stirred up.

  Lost in ugly recollections he did not watch where he was stepping. Suddenly there was nothing beneath his right foot. He stumbled back but as he put his foot down more of the floor gave way. As he fell, he twisted around in time to grab at the edge of the hole that had opened up beneath him. A heartbeat later Robbie and Matthew each grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him up. Cautiously, he looked down.

  “A storm cellar?” Robbie asked.

  “Nay.” Iain noticed the crude steps heading down and heavy burlap bags set against the dirt wall. “Looks as if it was for cold storage or the like. Just a place to store the harvest, I think. Wonder why the people ran outside instead of down here? They might have been able to survive if they had hidden down here.”

  Cautiously testing each step before putting his full weight on it, Iain went down. He could hear Robbie coming down behind him, Matthew standing watch above. Once on the ground he discovered it was not a large place. A pile of empty bags waited for more of the harvest to come in.

  “No child down here,” said Robbie as he looked into the full bags leaning against the walls. “Taters and apples though. Shall we take them?”

  “Aye. No sense in leaving it all here to rot.”

  “Thinking we should take the empty bags, too.”

  “Good thought. They can be used to collect up anything else useful, like the harvest.”

  “Iain, why are ye staring at them like this? And thinking. I can hear you thinking.”

  Laughing softly, Iain shook his head. “I dinnae ken. Just, weel, something about them looks wrong.”

  “They are not in a tidy pile, that is certain.” Robbie stepped over to them and started shifting them. “Hey, there is a wee bit of blood on some of them and”—he yanked a couple away from the wall—“some got stuck in this hole in the wall.”

  Moving to help Robbie pull all the bags aside, Iain cursed when they uncovered the hole. As they cleared away the last of the bags Iain saw more faint signs of blood. Someone had fled the house. If the men who had burned the place had taken but a little time to look around, they would have found the one who had escaped. If it was the child from the locket picture, Iain could
not be sure it was still alive. Men who would torture two people as had been done to that young couple would probably not hesitate to kill a child.

  “A tunnel. Whatever went down it was leaking a wee bit,” he said.

  “We best follow then.”

  Iain knew Robbie was right. There was a child out there, one hurt, scared, and in danger. He could not allow an old fear to rule him when a child’s life might matter. Iain struggled to use that good sense to push back the fear curdling his stomach. He knew it was not an easy fear to push back or even to control for a while.

  “Ye go in first, Robbie,” he said. “I will follow. And if I falter, ye just come and drag me along. I cannae let my distaste for such places stop me from trying to help a child.”

  “Then, aye, I will go first,” Robbie said even as he started to crawl inside the tunnel. “Need a light.”

  Iain quickly searched the room and found an old lantern with a thick candle inside. He handed it to Robbie after he lit it and the light it cast eased the growing knot in his stomach. After taking a deep breath he followed Robbie as his younger brother crawled forward. Drops of blood led the way. The acrid smell of smoke still thickened the air they breathed. Iain fought the memories that invoked. If he let them come, fell back into the terrifying horror of crawling through a similar tight spot to save his brother, he knew he would panic. He could not allow that and he forced himself to think only of the child they might save.

  Sweat pooled in the small of his back and dripped down his face. He could feel panic gnawing at his insides. He had nightmares about being stuck in small places while fire licked at his heels. It was hard to push such images away each time he found himself in a confined space. He had nearly died the last time he had been in one, had been burned badly and still carried some scars. Iain just kept reminding himself that he had survived and he had saved the life of his brother Geordie.