To Redeem a Highland Rake: A Historical Scottish Romance (Heart of a Scot Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  Not likely, but she wouldn’t be churlish.

  Robert scratched his temple, his former discomfit evident again. “The midwife and the doctor vowed that was why Morag went into early labor.”

  Much of the tension knotting Arieen’s shoulder muscles eased, and she pressed a hand to her belly, almost giddy with relief.

  Robert’s attention swept to Logan first, then gravitated to Mayra.

  He wouldn’t meet Coburn’s eyes. Why? Had Coburn coerced him into venturing to Lockelieth? Or had Coburn tried to prevent his coming?

  “No’ the other reason I accused ye of. I wanted ye to ken I dinna blame ye, and I regret my treatment of ye.” His demeanor repentant, head bowed and hands clasped before him, he said, “Ye dinna deserve that, and I ask ye to forgive me.”

  “In time, I’m sure I shall, but right now, I’m too hurt.” The wound of his harsh rejection was fresh around the edges yet.

  Mayra gave Arieen’s waist a little squeeze.

  Lips pressed into a thin line, he dropped his gaze. “Aye, I understand.”

  Who was this humbled man? Arieen canted her head, doubt whispering in her ears. If she knew one thing about Robert Fleming, it was he didn’t grovel.

  Not unless he had a purpose.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You could’ve said all of this in a letter. Why travel to the Highlands when you have two newborn bairns?”

  “Och, we’ve moved the household to the Highlands too. Morag wanted the lads out of the city’s putrid air. The wee ones are thrivin’.” His obvious delight softened her heart a shred.

  “I’m glad they’re doing well.”

  Get to the point.

  “That’s why I was delayed returnin’.” Coburn gave Robert a hard look. “When I arrived in Edinburgh and found the house closed up, I had to find out where they’d gone. I think ye’ll be happy to ken we’ve brought the rest of yer possessions.”

  “Thank you.” She brushed a crumb off her skirt. “I’ve grown weary wearing the same things.”

  “Aye, aye,” Robert said. “The trunks have already been taken to yer chamber.”

  There must be something else Robert wanted. Something important, besides her forgiveness.

  But what?

  Arms folded, Arieen tapped her toe, impatient for whatever this was to be done. “What is the real reason you are here, Robert?”

  He raised his gaze and licked his lower lip. He attempted a smile, but it looked more like a grimace or his stomach pained him.

  “I’ve had another offer for yer hand, Arieen. A brilliant match,” he said in a rush. “A Scottish Duke. He saw ye at the ball and was verra taken with ye.”

  At last, his real reason for coming.

  This visit was about Robert acquiring the title he’d coveted so long. The knowledge plummeted her stomach to her toes. The manipulating toad. And who was this duke? The dark-haired man who’d gawked at the ball?

  Robert warmed to the subject, gesturing and grinning, all the while bobbing his head. “Ye’d be able to stay in the highlands, lass, and ye—”

  “Nae,” she blurted. Determination and boldness bolted through her, and she notched her chin upward. “Nae,” she repeated, raising her voice to make sure he heard her correctly. “I willna.”

  Coburn longed to lift Fleming and shake him like the vermin he was, the wee sneaky rat. Only Logan’s slight head shake prevented him from giving in to the reckless urge.

  Her anger palpable, Arieen shook her head, livid shards shining in her eyes.

  “I absolutely cannot believe you.” She made a brusque gesture with her hand. “This visit wasn’t about me or my forgiveness, but about you and your selfish aspirations.”

  No wonder he’d been agreeable about giving Arieen her belongings, and why he’d insisted on following Coburn to Lockelieth.

  “Why am I not surprised? You’ve wasted your time.” She threw her hands into the air. “Go home to your sons and wife. I’m staying here.”

  Fleming made a dismissive gesture, calculation gleaming in his emotionless eyes. “Ye dinna understand. His Grace has the connections to have me appointed a Scottish Laird of Parliament.”

  Coburn set his jaw against the curses tapping the back of his teeth.

  “I’d be the equivalent of an English baron.” Fleming extended his palms, his sycophant smile curdling Coburn’s hastily gulped midday meal.

  “No.” Unyielding. Final. The icy Arieen had returned.

  “But, Arieen, the Duke of Strathorn will only petition the king on my behalf if’n ye agree to be his duchess.” In his eagerness, Fleming edged closer. “Think, lass, what this means for ye.”

  Coburn eyed him with the same distaste he would an adder about to strike.

  If he dared to touch her...

  “Ye, the Duchess of Strathorn,” Fleming said, his expression animated.

  Logan made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

  “Strathorn?” Such revulsion rippled through Coburn as he plunked his fists on his hips. “That sod?”

  Pray tell, how was Strathorn in a position to aid Fleming in acquiring a barony? The duke was probably lying out his arse in order to marry Arieen.

  How could Fleming consider such a union or contemplate subjecting her to that cur? Because Robert Fleming, the unmitigated self-serving sot, didn’t give a tinker’s damn about her.

  She lifted a shoulder, raking him with a deprecating gaze. “I don’t want to be a duchess, nor do I covet another title. I never have. I prefer a simpler life.”

  Her gaze met Coburn’s, and he read in her eyes what he’d dared not dream.

  She wanted to marry him.

  Not a duke or a viscount or any other man holding a title. No lofty-positioned nob, but him, a humble Scot. If his heart battered his ribs harder, they’d be bruised, and everyone present would hear the jubilant drumbeat.

  Fleming’s whole demeanor changed, and he advanced, stalking toward her. “I’m legally yer guardian, Arieen.”

  “You publicly renounced me.” She didn’t flinch but thrust her chin out and pointing at him, proudly challenged him.

  “Aye, I did, and I regret I allowed my anger to speak.” His countenance grew flinty. The ruthless businessman had emerged. “In the eyes of the courts, ye are my daughter, and I can force ye.”

  He was right, damn him.

  That settled Coburn’s mind. He’d nae allow Fleming to take her away from him. They’d exchange vows today. And consummate the marriage. There could be no waiting as she’d asked.

  Her smile blinding, she crossed the room to stand next to him. “Not if I’m already married. I’ve accepted Coburn’s offer.”

  Not caring who looked on, he tucked her to his side. “Aye, and I’m honored above all men.”

  “Not all,” came Logan’s glib reply as he mimicked his cousin’s posture and drew Mayra near.

  No doubt seeing his scheme about to be thwarted, Fleming’s face reddened, all pretense of civility fleeing. He pointed a finger and shook it. “Yer underage. I forbid it.”

  “Logan?” Mayra raised on her toes and spoke softly into his ear.

  He grinned and hugged her. “Aye, my love, that was my thought too.”

  Coburn glanced down at Arieen, and spoke low for her ears alone. “I promise I shan’t let him take you from me.”

  She angled her neck to look at him. “I ken.”

  So simple. No argument, only blind faith in him. His heart welled that he should be so blessed to be loved by this remarkable woman.

  The butler entered carrying fresh tea. “Sir, the reply ye awaited has arrived. Ye asked that I inform ye at once.”

  After exchanging the cooled teapot with the warm brew, he passed Logan a missive.

  With a flick of his thumb, Logan broke the wax and quickly perused the contents. “Excellent.” Logan, looking entirely too pleased with himself, handed the note to Coburn. “Please ask Mrs. Greer and Mrs. McIntyre to join us.”

  That caused the bland
-faced butler’s jowls to jiggle and his brows to twitch. “Aye, sir.”

  Coburn perused the short reply, and checking a triumphant arcing of his mouth, refolded the paper and slid it inside his coat pocket.

  “Come, let’s have a seat and enjoy the hot tea, shall we?” Logan motioned toward the table. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement over Mrs. McIntyre’s delicious dainties.”

  Coburn sent him a quizzical glance.

  Logan winked. What the hell was he doing? Why offer Fleming tea? He’d rather boot his sorry arse to the door and send for the priest. Still, Coburn guided Arieen to the sofa and they sat.

  Fleming grudgingly took a seat as well. “I’m no’ leavin’ without Arieen. I have the law on my side.”

  “And you think to force me to go with you?” She quirked a brow. “By yourself?”

  “She’s stayin’ and becomin’ my wife.” Coburn took her hand, and his heart tripped over itself at the sweet smile she gifted him. Why, she gazed at him in the same manner Mayra looked at Logan.

  With adoration.

  In the three days he’d been gone, he’d come to a startling realization.

  He’d move the Highland’s moors and mountains to make Arieen his wife. He finally understood Logan’s desperation to win Mayra. Once you met your other half, how could you endure the rest of your life without her?

  Inconceivable. He loved Arieen beyond logic.

  Acting the perfect hostess, Mayra poured everyone tea. She’d passed the last cup to Coburn, when the trio of servants filed in.

  Eyes wide and curious, they exchanged glances, then gazed at each of the room’s occupants in turn.

  “Thank ye. Please stand there.” Logan pointed to behind Coburn and Arieen.

  Without hesitation, they did as he directed.

  “Cousin, what are ye doin?” Coburn asked.

  “What a laird does for his clan. Protectin’ his people.” Logan set his cup aside and inhaled, his chest expanding with the gusty breath.

  Arieen gave Coburn a confused look, but he raised a brow. “I dinna have a clue, lass.”

  “Coburn, ye love Arieen, dinna ye? And ye’d forsake all others for her, wouldn’t ye?” Logan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “Aye, I do love her, and I have forsaken all others.” Coburn peered into her eyes, brimming with love for him and took her hand. “I’ll cherish ye until I draw my last breath.”

  The radiant smile she bestowed upon him would’ve rendered hell’s deepest pit midday bright.

  “And ye willin’ly take her to wife until the good Laird calls ye home?” Logan asked.

  His heartbeat quickened as raw emotion stimulated the organ. “Aye willin’ly, humbly, and gratefully, if she’ll have me.”

  “And Arieen,” Mayra said as Logan clasped her hand. “Ye love Coburn and are willing to take him to husband for the rest of yer days?”

  “Aye, I do, and I am.” Giving Coburn an endearing sideways smile, Arieen met Fleming’s glower. “Just as soon as a man of God is willing to perform the ceremony.”

  His scowl growing darker, Fleming made a dismissive sound and gesture.

  “So ye think ye love each other. It’s of nae importance. Marriages are no’ about sentimental drivel. They are arranged for position—social and financial gain. If ye must, become lovers after ye marry Strathhorn. For marry him ye will, Arieen.”

  Logan stood, looking every bit the Laird of Lockelieth. “That’s nae possible, Flemin’. Under Scotland’s irregular marriage laws, a couple professin’ their willingness to become man and wife in front of witnesses is a legally bindin’ union.”

  Arieen inhaled sharply, and eyes wide, swiveled toward Coburn. “Did you know what he was about?”

  “I suspected what he intended.” He ran his gaze over her face, wishing it could be his fingers. “Do ye object?”

  Humor softened her features, and she chuckled. “Nae, I don’t. I was surprised, that’s all. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t married in a proper church ceremony.” She leaned into him. “’Tis fitting, I think. We’ve not gone about courtship and wedding in the normal fashion. Why start now?”

  “Nae. I wilna let the matter go.” Fleming lurched to his feet. “Arieen is my property to do with as I wish. This farce cannae be defended in court.”

  “Aye, it can. Even when no cleric is present, Coburn and Arieen are married. There are five witnesses besides ye to attest to it.” Logan canted his head towards the servants.

  Mrs. Greer broke protocol and said, “Verra well done, my laird.”

  Beaming, Brewster and Mrs. McIntyre bobbed their heads in agreement.

  Nostrils flared, Fleming sneered, “I’ll have the union annulled.”

  “That could take years, Robert,” Arieen said with more patience than Coburn possessed. “No one, not even your duke, will wait that long to marry me.”

  “Besides,” Coburn said, “Arieen and I well might have children by then. Nae annulment will be granted if we do.” He’d do his best to make sure they did. “Ye need to concede defeat.”

  “Nae.” His face riddy and brow damp, Fleming appeared on the verge of an apoplexy, yet he obstinately shook his head.

  Coburn stood and drew Arieen to her feet. He patted his pocket. “The note just delivered was a reply from the minister. He’ll be here within the hour to perform a ceremony that will consecrate our nuptials in the eyes of the church.”

  Fleming was beaten.

  Logan angled his head toward Brewster. “Please escort Mr. Flemin’ to the door.”

  Fleming stamped to the doorway. He raked a critical gaze over the salon. “Ye could’ve lived in one of Scotland’s grandest houses, Arieen. Yet, ye choose to live in this crumblin’ piece of shite. I am well done with ye.”

  Pompous wee prig of a mon.

  With another snarl, he clomped from the room, followed by the servants.

  “I’d like a few minutes with Arieen before the minister arrives.” Coburn touched her elbow.

  Despite her valiance, white lines bracketed her mouth.

  “Of course.” Logan led Mayra from the salon, but at the door, she sent Arieen a reassuring smile.

  Hands on her shoulders, Coburn rotated her until they stood face to face. “Are ye all right?”

  “Aye. I shan’t let Robert’s disappointment and hatred ruin the most wonderful day of my life.” Her lips trembled the merest bit. “Do ye truly love me, Coburn Wallace? As much as I adore ye?”

  He pulled her tight to him and buried his face in her neck. “Aye, aye, my sweet lass, I do. More than the heather blossoms on the moors. I love ye with a fiery ache that grows each passin’ day. I dinna deserve ye, but I shall spend each hour of my life grateful ye’d have a mon like me.”

  “And I love ye, Coburn.” She entwined her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair as she angled her face to meet his lips. “When did ye say the minister was arriving?”

  “At any moment.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then darted his tongue out to taste its nectar. “Ye dinna believe Logan, that we’re married under Scottish irregular marriage laws?”

  Arieen smiled and shook her head. “Nae, I believe him.”

  “Ye want to make sure Fleming cannae have the union annulled?” Over Coburn’s dead body.

  “Nae. That’s not why I asked.” She brushed her lips across his jaw, and the heat in his blood sent desire pulsing to every inch of his body. “I’m wondering how long I have to wait to approach the man I love about consummating our union.”

  If he didn’t fear they’d be interrupted, he’d do so right here.

  “Ye may no’ have to wait a verra long time after all.” She gave him a coy look, and he barely suppressed a groan.

  He eyed the sofa assessing its length. Nae. Not their first time. He wanted their joining to be a powerful, sensual memory they carried with them the rest of their lives.

  He grinned and kissed her nose. “An eager lass, are ye?”

 
“Coburn, I’ve wanted ye since ye made my knees go weak when ye kissed me at the ball.”

  He searched her face, loving this woman more than he’d ever believed himself capable of. “No regrets, Arieen? ’Tis no’ too late—”

  “Shh.” She touched two fingers to his lips. “No regrets, my dearest love. Not now. Not ever.”

  Lockelieth Keep, Scottish Highlands

  1 September 1720

  Arieen hummed a Scottish ballad as she pulled the drapery aside to peer at the drive again. Today she’d meet Captain Donal MacDuff, the half Scots, half English ship’s captain claiming to be her real father.

  She fingered the ruby brooch at her neckline as she paced.

  In his last letter, Captain MacDuff had specifically asked her to wear it. The brooch was confirmation—at least in his mind—she was indeed his daughter.

  She had two sisters and two brothers, and it had been one of her brothers who’d spotted her at McCullough’s masquerade ball. Because of her strong resemblance to his sisters, he knew at once she must be a relation.

  Her siblings were also coming today.

  Arieen’s stomach fluttered, and she pressed a hand to the tension thrumming there. Here she had thought she had no brothers and sisters, and instead, she had two of each.

  If she was Donal MacDuff’s daughter.

  Coburn took her hand and gave her fingers a light squeeze.

  “Are ye nervous, leannan?”

  “A mite”—a lot—“but in a pleasant sort of way.” She brushed her gloved hand over the skirt of her new rose and gold robe à la française gown.

  Her beloved husband appeared every bit the proper gentleman today.

  He’d eschewed his normal attire, and wore a midnight blue frock coat and matching breeches. Why, he’d even conceded to wear a lace jabot tied about his neck. Except for his gingerish hair, no one would’ve taken him for a Highlander.

  “Coburn, do you think I really am Captain MacDuff’s daughter?” she asked, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.

  Until a month ago, she assumed she’d never know anything about her real father. The captain had been at sea when his son had seen her at the ball. He’d had to wait until Captain MacDuff returned to England to tell his father he’d discovered Arieen. Or so the captain’s first correspondence claimed.