Tomorrow was Christmastide and Jack hadn’t arrived. She was doing her best to keep any doubts out. He’d told her he loved her, asked her father permission to marry her. He’d even sent a dress for their wedding that displayed her assets, as he’d called them.
But still, this tiny niggle of fear kept creeping into her thoughts. She wasn’t good enough. Love was never going to be hers to keep.
A creak behind her had her turning her head. Her sister, Ainsley, slipped through the door, followed by her other sister, Fiona. They stood on either side of her as the door creaked again, opening wider as Clarissa and Agnes entered the tiny tower.
“He’s coming, Emilia,” Agnes softly answered the question that had been bouncing around in her thoughts.
Clarissa placed a hand on Emilia’s shoulder. She turned to her beautiful cousin with her dark hair swept back from her face. A beauty shone from within as her stomach swelled with her first child. “How could he not love you? No one gives more love than you do.”
She took a breath as Agnes held her hand. “I’m not used to men bestowing attention on me.”
Fiona huffed a breath. “Stop that blather now, do you have any idea how many men follow you with their eyes?” Fiona’s bright green eyes flashed with annoyance. “Just because you pay them no mind doesn’t mean they aren’t watching you.”
Emilia let out a tiny giggle. “Only you, Fiona, can make me feel better with insults and eye rolls.”
Fiona’s features softened. “That might be the nicest thing ye ever said tae me.”
“Oh look,” Ainsely cried out pointing toward the water. “It’s a ship!”
Emilia squinted her eyes to see what Ainsley was referring to. Sure enough, a ship loomed larger and larger as it came into view. She yelped in excitement and then brushed past her family to make her way down the tower and out to the beach.
She made it down to the sand just as the rowboats were pulling up to the dock. Her breath heaving out of her chest, she caught sight of Jack climbing up out of the boat. Despite having no breath left, she raced toward him. He caught sight of her and ran to meet her, catching her up in his arms.
He pressed his lips to hers over and over as he spun her around.
“And here I thought Emilia might be the only one of us tae make it to her wedding still pure.” Fiona giggled behind her.
She turned to see Fiona, Ainsley, Clarissa, and Agnes standing behind her on the beach. A quick glance at Jack showed he looked rather distraught over the comment. To him she replied, “You’ll get used to Fiona.” Then turning back to her family, she clucked her tongue. “Look away then, if ye don’t want to see.”
They giggled and turned away as she pressed her lips to Jack’s again. “I missed you,” she sighed out.
“And I, you. So much.” He pressed her closer, peppering kisses all about her face. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Come see.”
Her family had set about decorating the great hall for the holiday and the nuptials. Never had she seen it more beautiful.
They entered the castle, and her mother swept toward them, “Captain Andrews,” she held out her arms as her eyes twinkled.
“Lady Ravenscraig,” he returned the greeting even as her mother embraced him and kissed his cheek.
“Let’s dispense with the formalities. Welcome home.” She beamed.
Her father stepped up next to her mother. “Good tae see ye again. What do ye think?” His hand swept toward the decorations.
“It’s stunning,” Jack exclaimed.
It really was. A large tree stood in one corner while garlands and mistletoe decorated the room with bright splashes of red and green. He reached for her hand and, drawing her closer, said, “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
A male chuckle sounded behind them. “A few of us might have to disagree with you on that, having our own McDougal brides.”
Emilia rolled her eyes. “I hope ye wanted a large family. May I introduce ye to yer future brother-in-laws?”
The evening passed in a blur of family and food, everyone growing excited for the festivities in the morning. Emilia, was more excited to be alone with Jack than even the wedding itself. Shortly after dinner, she stretched and pushed out a yawn. “I think I’ll be needin’ me rest for the morning.”
Clarissa and Fiona stood. Clarissa gave her a small wink, but Fiona bestowed her with a devilish grin. “We’re comin’ with ye. Help ye prepare for the nuptials tomorrow.”
Several male groans filled the room, Jack looking as crestfallen as her brother-in-laws.
Her mother covered her mouth with a kerchief while her father looked confused. “We’re already prepared.”
“Not that type of preparation,” Agnes stated as more male protests filled the room.
Emilia gave Fiona a look she hoped would scare the mud off a hog. She didn’t need preparation. She needed to be with Jack.
“I’ll go with you,” her mother stood. “This sort of thing is a mother’s job.”
Emilia’s eyes grew wide as she glared at Fiona. Fiona well knew she didna need a lesson about the marriage bed and her older sister was attempting to torture her. It was Fiona’s special talent.
Three hours later, she lay in a quiet room. She’d sent Clarissa and Fiona back to their husbands, her mother lay next to her.
She was too excited to sleep, and her mother’s soft snores weren’t helping. She didn’t dare sneak out but she desperately wished she could see Jack.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Creeping over, she whispered, “Who is it?” Though she already knew.
“It’s me. I know you can’t see me but I just want to pass you a gift,” Jack whispered from the other side of the door.
She cracked it open then. “You’ve given me enough. I don’t need anything else.”
“This is for you to wear tomorrow.” He handed her a beautiful green tartan. “A symbol of our future.”
“Oh, Jack,” she murmured as she slipped out into the hall and wrapped her arms about his neck.
He gave her a long slow kiss. “After tomorrow, we need never be apart again.”
“Tomorrow,” she breathed as he unwrapped her arms from his neck and gently backed away.
“Good night, my love,” he said as he disappeared down the hall.
She returned to the bed and wrapped the tartan about herself. It smelled like him and as she breathed it in, she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, unusual for a Scottish winter day.
Emilia dressed in a cream colored gown that Jack had sent her, and wrapped his tartan around her shoulders. Never had she felt more beautiful.
As she walked down the main stairwell everyone stood at the entrance to the main hall, watching her descent. But she only had eyes for Jack. He stared back at her with an intensity that took her breath away.
As she came to the bottom of the stairs, he turned briefly to her father. “I’m sorry about this, Haggis.”
“What’s that then?” her father asked but Emilia barely registered his words. Jack was striding toward her. Before she knew what was happening, he’d swept her into arms and planted a fierce kiss on her lips.
The men cheered and hooted as he gently set her down. “I love you,” he breathed out, kissing her again.
“And I love you.” Their foreheads remained pressed together as they held one another.
Her father finally cleared his throat. “It’s time for the weddin’.”
Taking her hand, they entered the great hall. Her Christmastide wish in the flesh. She looked to the faces of her happy sisters and the men who had stolen their hearts. What a fantastically beautiful year it had been for the McDougal family.
THE END
Want to learn about each of the McDougal romances? See Clarissa, Fiona, Agnes, and Ainsley each meet their true love.
The first is available for pre-order! My Enemy, My Earl: A Laird to Love Book 1
Coming i
n 2018
Heart of a Highlander: A Laird to Love Book 2
A Rogue’s Surrender: A Laird to Love Book 3
My Lairdrd’s Seduction: A Laird to Love Book 4
The Earl’s Forsaken Bride A Laird to Love Book 6
NOW FOR A SNEAK PEEK of My Enemy, My Earl: A Laird to Love
Chapter One
Lord Ewan McDougal, Earl of Dumfries, took a deep breath of Scottish air as he trotted down the rutted road toward Kirkcaldy. It was so good to be back in his home country. Even with the misting rain, the fresh smell of spring flowers lifted his spirits. With any luck, he’d never step foot on soil that wasn’t Scottish again.
He doubted he’d ever have need to traipse over Europe or Asia after the war, so there was no real danger there, but England was another matter entirely. A Scot could get sucked onto English land despite his best intentions not to. And he had no intention of ever touching that country again.
Or any of its people, for that matter.
“Do ye think we’ll be able to stop soon? I’m peckish.” Kieran McKenna grumbled next to him.
Ewan glared at his longtime companion and friend. They’d grown up together on neighboring parcels of land, had been drafted together, and had returned changed together. Kieran was like his tartan, he was rarely seen without the other man. “We just ate.”
“Aye, but it’s raining.” Kieran looked as though his point ought to have been obvious.
“So what?” Ewan gave him a look of bewilderment. “It’s Scotland. It’s always raining.”
“After years of being cold and hungry, I’ve no tolerance for either.” Kieran shrugged.
It was difficult to argue with that. There were a lot of things he had no tolerance for after years of war. Loud noises near stole his sanity. He couldn’t stand the English, for example, who’d drafted him in the first place. And his ruined land, bare after five years of neglect. That drove him mad but at least his land he could repair. That was why he needed to get to Kirkaldy. From there it was a short ride to third cousin, Hamish McDougal’s castle. “You know I’ve got a bride to meet.”
“Will she marry someone else if it takes an extra day?” Kieran wagged his eyebrows. “Besides, you know you’re devilish handsome. She’ll likely fall right into yer arms.”
Kieran wasn’t wrong. Women had long given him attention. Though Kieran was the more classically handsome man with his straight nose and piercing eyes, Ewan had always had a masculine look to which women responded. “It’s not that. You ken as well as anyone my land is in shambles. I need to marry to put it back together. Winter is comin’.”
“It’s only spring.” Kieran winked. “But I know ye be wantin’ a lovely little Scottish lass with a nice full...dowry.”
Ewan tried not growl at his friend’s crass words. Although they were at least partly true. Fiona, his perspective bride, did come with a dowry and that coin would be verra helpful in repairing his lands. Fiona was a strong Scot woman, which would also come in handy.
They’d last seen each other ten years before, when she was but a child. She’d had a penchant for practical jokes, which had near driven him mad, but surely she’d grown out of that by now.
Up ahead he spotted a carriage stopped and tilting precariously to one side. The driver was down on his knees in the muck attempting to repair the wheel. Poor sod.
Next to him stood a hooded figure with flowing skirts that had been sucked into the muck. He grimaced. The side of the road was no place for any lass to be. Especially not on a day like this.
“I’m all for helpin’ women in need but it’s rainin’ harder still. We should keep movin’.” Kieran frowned more deeply. “Ye’re not going to stop are ye?”
The question did not dignify an answer. Dismounting, he led his horse toward the stranded travelers. As a soldier, he’d learned it was less intimidating when he approached on foot. Especially considering his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He frightened on horseback.
The driver looked up with a wary eye but Ewan offered him a smile. “Is it help ye be needin’?”
“Aye, that’d be right nice.” The driver nodded.
“You can go back in the carriage if ye like, lass.” Ewan gave her what he hoped was an sympathetic smile but he heard her huff her breath almost like it annoyed her that he’d said it.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay,” she answered from under the hood, annoyance lacing her lilting voice.
Never mind that he admired a woman with enough pluck to stand out in the rain to fix a wheel. Something Kieran wasn’t willing to do, apparently. Or that she stayed even when she didn’t have to.
Her accent was English.
“Dinna trouble yerself, lass.” The driver reached out to pat her like a child.
Ewan nodded his agreement. “I know an English woman like yerself doesn’t do this kind of thing normally.”
“How would you know what I can or can’t do?”
He could just see her mouth below the edge of the hood. Perfect, full pink lips turned down into a frown.
Why had he thought words like perfect and full when he should be thinking ones like conniving and wretched? Wasn’t that what all the English were? Everyone he’d met when abroad at war certainly had been. Pushing the Scots to the front of the line to die in droves.
He was tempted to climb on his horse and keep riding. Kieran would be happy, anyway. Because he was not here to help the English. “An English miss fixing a wheel?”
He heard her hiss of breath. “Why not?”
Because the English are arrogant and entitled while still managing to be useless, because...
He knew he must be glaring at that remark and so, instead of answering, he turned away and looked at the wheel. The driver had a few broken spokes.
“I don’t dare drive on a road this rutted with the wheel compromised and I always keep some extras. But I can’t quite get them in. Lady Clarissa was attempting to help me, which was greatly appreciated, but we’re not strong enough, the two of us. Your arms might just do the trick.” The driver gave him a wink.
“Brawny men are good for something, I suppose,” she mumbled in her haughty English accent that managed to make his strength and size sound like a detriment. His frown deepened. Worse than the insult, she was a lady. An unmarried one at that. He’d have to be careful not to give his own title or risk being hunted.
English ladies were always after unmarried titles. I didn’t seem to matter whether the man was honorable, rich, or kind, as long as he was titled.
He wasn’t just given to making false claims. It had actually been his experience. The ladies of London hadn’t paid him a lick of attention, well not that kind of attention, until he’d been awarded a title for his service. Then he’d been relentlessly pursued by young misses and their mamas. It had been an eye-opening experience that had made his ache for his own country even greater.
“What is wrong with brawny men? Ye seem to be needin’ one right about now.” He knew it didn’t matter what she thought, but something about this woman was getting under his skin. He knelt down and the spokes popped easily into place. From this vantage point, he could see more of her face. Creamy skin and a pert little nose peeked out from under the hood.
“They are often dim-witted and miraculously full of themselves,” she huffed.
He stood, now covered in a fair bit of mud himself. He was used to women blushing and smiling at him. Complimenting his strength, not insulting it. He brushed his dark, overlong hair behind his ears and looked at the English lass. “And English misses often think they ken everythin’ about everythin’. You don’t ken a thing about me.”
Part of him wanted to tell her he was an Earl as well as a decorated war hero. She should be falling at his feet not frowning at him. But he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t care what this woman thought of him.
She, in turn, stared fixedly at him. Though the hood covered them, he could feel her eyes on him and it made his insides
tighten in the strangest way. Near nervous or excited. When was the last time a woman had affected him so?
“I know your type, can’t even take the time to shave your face or lace your shirt,” she bit back, her hand coming to her hip. It parted the opening of her cape and revealed part of her rather luscious bosom. He sucked in his breath.
He should get on his horse and go. But, if he were honest, she was damn interesting. Like a sharp-tongued beautiful fairy or a...he stopped his train of thought. What the bloody hell was he thinking?
The door popped open and a pretty, petite blonde stuck her head out. She was a curvy woman who would make some man happy, but her face still held the innocence of a lass, not acquainted with the world. In a single look, he liked her immensely. She gave him a sweet smile then turned to the lady. “Did they fix it, Clarissa?”
Slowly, delicate hands rose to the rim of the hood. Brushing back the folds, her deep, glossy, dark brown tresses tumbled in a lose coif down her back.
Large grey-blue eyes looked at him with a vulnerability that near made him ache in places he’d thought long dead. Her expression was in stark contrast to her hissing words. As were her pink cheeks and plump sweet lips, which seem to tremble slightly as though she were nervous or afraid. Likely she was only cold, but some part of him wanted to shield her from whatever made them shake.
“They did.” Her voice was like honey, smooth and sweet unlike when she’d spoken to him.
His eyes locked with hers. That was how the English trapped a Scot. Pretty and seemingly harmless, a man didn’t even see them stealing his future ‘til it was too late.
CLARISSA ASSESSED THE Scottish brute in front of her. She didn’t like him. Not even a little. It didn’t matter that he had brawny muscles and piercing green eyes. Or that he stopped to help stranded travelers.
First, there was the fact that he’d insulted her English roots. She wouldn’t even bother to tell him she was half Scot. Then there was the careless way his shirt was untied at the top, his overlong dark hair, his casual stance with one hand slung low on his hip to accentuate how much smaller they were than his broad chest. His red tartan exposed his knees in an altogether indecent way. His face had a rugged set, with his Roman nose and prominent cheekbones. Men that handsome were always up to no good. Past experience had taught her this and it was a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 18