by Julia London
Nevertheless, Daisy and Cailean had feared that the authorities would come around at any moment to gather him up and try him for free trading. Daisy fretted so that she persuaded Cailean they ought to seek the advice of Lady Beckinsal’s cousin, a barrister.
Mr. Barnabus Wilkins was happy to call at Chatwick town house on Audley Street, where he explained to Cailean that in spite of the many accusations against him, there was simply no proof. Without any physical evidence—a ship, or even a bottle of wine that the excise man had missed—no one could prove his guilt. “I would suggest, sir, that you leave London and don’t come back,” he’d said, gathering his things on his way out.
“What of the captain, then?” Cailean asked. “What’s to keep him from making the same accusations?”
The man shrugged. “Nothing. I suppose he can make life quite difficult for you if he likes with his aspersions against you. But Captain Spivey may be preoccupied. I understand he’s been offered a position aboard the St. Maria.”
Cailean looked at him blankly.
“She is a ship with the East India Company. I understand she sails frequently to India. He stands to make a great deal of money in the spice trade.” He glanced meaningfully at Cailean. “It would behoove you to stay off the seas for a time.”
“Aye,” Cailean agreed.
Daisy was eager to take the barrister’s advice and retreat to Chatwick Hall. Mr. Tuttle had developed a fondness for the boy, and had agreed to come along to the country and see after his studies until it was time for him to attend university.
They made plans to return to Scotland, perhaps the following spring. Cailean settled uneasily into Chatwick Hall with Daisy’s help, although it was clear he never felt entirely at ease in England and in Englishman’s clothing. And he confessed to her one night that he still waited for authorities to arrive on the doorstep one day to take him into custody.
“They would have come by now, darling,” Daisy tried to soothe him.
“Aye,” Cailean said. “But never turn your back on the Sassenach, leannan,” he’d said gravely. In spite of their happy marriage, it was clear deeply rooted suspicions would never die away.
Daisy liked it better in the country for Ellis’s sake. Every day, Cailean spent time with him. They fished; they hunted. They talked at length about stalking red stags until Daisy could bear it no more. They built a small fort in a tree in the forest, and Cailean taught Ellis how to shoot.
Ellis’s appetite grew robust, and so did he. He never looked sickly now, and though he had suffered a fair number of bumps and bruises, Daisy had to agree with Cailean—she had coddled him, and now he was thriving.
So was she. She had never paid much attention to the gardens at Chatwick Hall, but they suddenly seemed wanting, and she was determined to create the most beautiful garden in Nottinghamshire. She insisted on doing the work herself, and no one thought to argue with her. Cailean once said he loved her best when she had twigs in her hair and dirt on her gown. Whether or not that was true, Daisy couldn’t say—he seemed to love her best no matter what she was wearing...or not wearing.
Belinda’s interest in painting had reached new heights, given that she had sold one at Balhaire. She had a reputation for fine art in the village, too, and one day, Mrs. Sudder asked if Belinda would be so kind as to instruct her daughter, as she had yet to show any great promise.
By the end of the year, Belinda had four students. She asked Daisy if she might use part of the old orangery as a studio. “Children must have something to occupy them, for without occupation, they might revert to criminal acts,” she’d explained. “It happened to a young man in Alberwick. He had nothing to keep his hands busy and confessed to stealing a ham.”
“Dear God, we can’t have packs of ham thieves roaming the countryside,” Daisy had said laughingly, and had helped Belinda convert the orangery for her use.
Uncle Alfonso had taken up residence at the Chatwick town house in London, where he could oversee Ellis’s holdings until Ellis was grown. He visited Chatwick Hall often, generally with a tale or two, including one that featured Lord Yarbrough, who, by all accounts, was caught in the bed of a married marchioness and was very nearly shot while bare from the waist down.
But the news from Scotland was not good. Cailean’s father wrote that the situation with the Jacobites in the Highlands had worsened. They were growing bolder, were plotting another attempt to put a Stuart on the throne, were aggressively recruiting men to their cause. Cailean’s father suggested it was not entirely safe for Daisy and her son at present. “We can trust no one,” he wrote. “Your wife and son are safer where they are for the time being.”
He also wrote that he feared Rabbie might take up the Jacobite cause.
Scotland worried Cailean, Daisy knew, as did Rabbie’s involvement. But mostly Cailean worried about his father. More than once, Daisy had awakened and found her bed empty; Cailean was restless and would pace.
One night, as they lay in bed, naked and still warm from their lovemaking, she touched his chest, drawing a faint line to his groin. “Do you regret it?”
“Lovemaking?”
She laughed. “No...do you regret coming to England?”
Cailean abruptly sat up and stared down at her. “Have you lost your mind, then?”
“I don’t think I have. But I know how you worry. I know how you long to be home, with your family”
“Aye, you have lost your barmy little mind,” he said gruffly. “Else you’d know how much I need you, leannan. I need you now more than ever, aye?” He suddenly grabbed her up in his arms, pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. My world was gray until you shone a light in it. I want to be there, aye. But I want to be here, with you, much more than that. You and Ellis and Belinda are my family. So never let me hear you ask again, Daisy.”
She smiled into his chest. “Never, sir,” she promised and kissed his chest. “I love you, Cailean.”
“Aye, I know you do,” he said and nuzzled her neck. “You can scarcely keep your wee hands from me.” He kissed her shoulder. Then her chest. “Aye, you love me, you do, as well you ought. But you’ll never love me as I love you.” He took her breast in his mouth.
She wasn’t going to argue with him, at least not now. She closed her eyes and descended into the sort of pleasure she’d never known in her first marriage. No matter how hard he tried, this Scotsman would never love her as much as she loved him.
But he did come awfully close.
* * * * *
In 1746, the Battle of Culloden left scars on the Highland landscape and its people. Their losses were great, and the Crown’s punishment for their rebellion ruthless. Rabbie Mackenzie’s loss of the woman he planned to marry cuts deep, and when his parents suggest he marry the daughter of an Englishman to save what they can of Balhaire, it is the ultimate humiliation. He is determined that no one will forget his grief or the injustice done to the Highlands...
Look for Rabbie Mackenzie’s story in HARD-HEARTED HIGHLANDER.
New York Times bestselling author Julia London brings you an unforgettable new series with The Highland Grooms.
Join these sinfully seductive Scottish heroes and sensual yet headstrong heroines as they surrender their hearts to love in the lush, green Scottish Highlands.
Wild Wicked Scot
Sinful Scottish Laird
Hard-Hearted Highlander
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“London’s new Highland Grooms series will be well worth following if this first novel is any indication.... An absorbing read from a novelist at the top of her game.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Wild Wicked Scot (starred review)
Desperate times call for daring measures as the Cabot sisters act quickly to rescue themselves from ruin. Don’t miss the passion and scandal in The Ca
bot Sisters series:
The Trouble with Honor
The Devil Takes a Bride
The Scoundrel and the Debutante
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“Julia London writes vibrant, emotional stories and sexy, richly drawn characters.”
—New York Times bestselling author Madeline Hunter
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ISBN-13: 9781459294950
Sinful Scottish Laird
Copyright © 2017 by Dinah Dinwiddie
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