He, in turn, was smirking, a lazy look of satisfaction marring what might have otherwise been perfect features.
“Oh, dear,” Agnes muttered.
“Indeed,” Clarissa added before they descended the stairs.
Clarissa’s parents rushed toward them, embracing her.
“We’re terribly sorry we missed it,” her mother cried as she hugged her again.
Her father cleared his throat. “Where is my grandchild?”
“Ava is sleeping.” Clarissa gave her father a glare. “What happened that you were so late?”
“Our ship was caught in that storm.” Her mother breathed. “If not for James, we’d have been lost.”
Agnes embraced her aunt too, and her gaze flitted to the man she hoped was not James. His smirk grew. As he brushed his overlong hair back off his shoulder, she knew without a doubt James was the hero. Oh, dear.
Ainsley flushed a deep shade of pink. Dear lord, it was somehow worse that the man was a hero.
“James?” Clarissa asked, turning to one of their new guests.
Her father gestured, toward the long-haired devil—Agnes could think of no other word to describe him. “Laird James McPherson, The Earl of Rotheport.”
The man looked absolutely sinful as his gaze flicked to Ainsley once again. “You forgot captain,” he said as he bowed to assembled guests.
“Quite right, my lord.” Her father nodded. “He’s seen us safely here. His ship also sustained some damage in the storm.”
“McPherson, you are welcome to stay here, of course. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“If it’s all the same to you, while I appreciate your offer, I’d be just as content to stay in a nearby village. The repairs will require me to keep long hours.”
Ewan grimaced. “The nearest village is at least an hour’s ride from here.”
“Then I would be honored to accept your offer of hospitality.” Lord Rotheport’s features remained stoic, the rigid lines of his body spoke of annoyance.
Ainsley gasped, and Clarissa pursed her lips.
“It’s the least I can do as you’ve saved my family.” Ewan cleared his throat.
“And this—” her father gestured to the other guest, “—is Lord Callum Tate, Earl of Blackwood.”
“We’ve met,” Ewan cut in as he stepped forward and saluted the man.
Keiran did the same. “It’s good tae see ye again.”
“You as well,” Lord Tate replied. “Glad tae see I’m not the only Scot that made it back from the war.”
“Nae, yer not,” Ewan shook his hand this time. Then he turned back to her uncle. “And what’s more, we’ve another announcement to make.” He gave Keiran a wink. “Keiran has asked for Agnes’s hand, and I’ve accepted on your behalf.”
Her father’s expression turned black as he assessed Keiran up and down. Agnes stepped forward. “Laird McKenna has generously gifted a plot of land to both you and mother to build homes in Scotland if you’d like.”
Her uncle’s features relaxed. “Well, I see there is much to discuss.”
James quirked a brow in her direction. “Agnes, is it? You must be quite the catch.”
Keiran growled behind her, his hand coming possessively to her waist. “That is none of your concern.”
James raised an eyebrow. “I simply mean that it is a generous gift.”
“Well, ye’ve an interesting way of putting it,” Keiran replied, his hand tightening.
James took note of the gesture. Agnes would have rolled her eyes if it wouldn’t have been impolite. It was silly for Keiran to be jealous. He was all she could see.
“Let’s move to a salon where we might be more comfortable.” Ewan cleared his throat. “Clarissa, why don’t you fetch Ava.” He kissed his wife’s forehead. “Once the introductions are made, the ladies can begin the arrangements for the wedding.
Clarissa nodded, heading up the stairs. Agnes sidled up to Ainsley. “Are you all right?”
Ainsley huffed. “What a brainless boar.”
“He’s only said three sentences, and yet I have to agree.” Agnes bit her lip to keep from saying more. This was exactly the sort of man Ainsley might normally find interesting, which means Blackwood must have said something to instantly insult Ainsley.
“Did you see that smirk?” Ainsley rolled her eyes.
Agnes gave Ainsley a wink and then linked arms with her. “The other is quite handsome. Lord Rotheport, was it?”
“Aye, he is. Mayhap not as handsome as Blackwood, but much more agreeable.” Ainsley murmured without commitment. While the comment made Agnes slightly suspicious, it was a relief that Ainsley wasn’t more interested in Blackwood. In the few minutes they’d been acquainted, Agnes was sure he wasn’t a man like Ewan or Keiran. Nothing but trouble would come from getting mixed up with the likes of him.
An hour later, the women sat together, and it had been decided to have the wedding within the month. The guests were already assembled. They only needed find someone to perform the ceremony. Agnes didn’t give a fig what she wore as long as Keiran was hers. She hoped that his conversation with her uncle was going as well.
“It’s going to be strange to not have you at the house.” Clarissa gave her hand a squeeze. “But it’s a dream come true to have you so close by.”
Agnes hugged her cousin. “I agree.”
Her mother beamed at her from across the room. “I’ll stay here, if it’s all right with you, Clarissa. I can help with the baby and give Agnes and Keiran some privacy.
Agnes said a little prayer of thanks. In no time at all, they’d begin their future together.
Epilogue
Agnes lay in the circle of Keiran’s arms and debated whether or not to wake him. It was quite early, and after the journey to see her cousin Emilia’s wedding, she knew Keiran was tired. They had been married for six glorious weeks, and now, at Christmastide, they had returned to Ainsley’s childhood home.
It also gave Haggis the opportunity to meet Ainsley’s new husband. A fact he didn’t seem that pleased about.
But Agnes had news of her own, and like Haggis, she wasn’t entirely certain how Keiran would take it.
She thought it best to deliver the news softly, so she slipped under the covers, thinking to wake him with a treat.
“Wife,” he growled low and deep. “What are you doing?”
She peeked her head out from under the covers and attempted to give him her most innocent face. “What do you mean?”
But he was already hauling her back up his body, his lips finding hers as their skin pressed together. “You need your rest. It has been a busy few days.”
She smiled as he continued to kiss her despite his words. “You’re likely right. Someone did keep me up dreadfully late.”
He ran his hand under the blankets, sliding down her back to cup her behind and press their two bodies together. “You’ll have to go back to sleep as soon as we’re done.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, that was until he slipped inside her, and then all laughter was done.
It was quick and heated, and when their passion was spent, she lay on top of him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. “I’ve something to tell you.”
“Hmmmm,” he murmured, clearly having drifted back to sleep. “What is it?”
She cleared her throat and lifted her head, which made his eyes snap open to assess her. “Is something wrong, Agnes?”
“Not wrong, exactly.” She took a breath. “I know this quick, and perhaps you noticed, but I haven’t…” She cleared her throat again. “That is to say…I haven’t bled since our first time together nearly two months ago.”
He stared at her, not saying a word until a lump formed in her throat. He wasn’t happy. Unable to stand the silence any longer, she started to wiggle off of him, but he immediately caught her and held her against himself. “You think you’re with child?”
“Yes, maybe. I’ve never been this long without my monthlies, and I—�
�
But she couldn’t finish as his lips captured hers. “We’re going to have a baby. One of our very own?”
“Yes.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I believe that we are.”
Before she could say another word, he flipped her over onto her back and ran his hand along the flat of her stomach. “Oh, Agnes,” he whispered. “It’s better than I even dreamed it would be. A family of our own.”
Emotion was making his voice hoarse.
“I think so too,” she said.
Kissing her softly, slowly, he held her face between his hands. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Scotland.”
She trailed her finger down his cheek. “I’m not so sure. I think you’ve got some competition right here in this very castle.”
He laughed then but didn’t say another word as he kissed her, long and deep.
My Laird’s Seduction
A Laird to Love
Lady Ainsley McDougal stood on the drive of her cousin’s estate and watched the approaching guests, her head craning up to get a better view over the shrubbery that lined the drive. Finally something of interest was going to happen. At least she’d hoped it was about to. Anyone could be arriving in that carriage. Perhaps even eligible bachelors.
This trip to visit her cousin, Clarissa, and her husband, Ewan, the Earl of Dumfries, as they welcomed their new baby was supposed to have been a great adventure. Mainly because her father wasn’t in attendance. His watchful eye kept her from having any real fun.
It turned out, however, being at home was more exciting than this visit had been. They’d been at her cousin’s home with family and had only made a single visit into the village since she’d arrived. Dull. Except, of course, for the birth of Clarissa’s baby, Ava. When Ainsley looked at that tiny bundle, something peculiar happened to her insides: they melted like a pudding next to a flame.
As her aunt and uncle, the Baron and Baroness of Stillwater, exited their carriage, two other gentlemen filed out behind them. They piqued her attention. From this distance, all she could see was that they were tall, equally broad, and both had rather long hair for gentlemen. Maybe they weren’t gentlemen. A little thrill ran up her spine.
It wasn’t that she had any intention of acting other than a lady should. But she did like to dance at the edge of what was expected of her. It was exciting. Exhilarating, really.
She allowed her heels to come off the ground, trying to get a closer look at the two men as they stood waiting to greet the guests. Which would be her newest admirer?
Giving up trying to see them better, she looked down at herself instead to check her appearance. She’d changed into her most fashionable morning gown when she’d learned more guests were arriving, wanting to look her best.
But she forgot to factor in that there had been a storm the night before. The bottom of her skirt had wicked up ten stones of water, she was sure, and her hair was curling around her face in the most unappealing way. She could see the wisps out of the corner of her eye. She sighed heavily, thinking that this entire trip had been a washout. Hopefully, the recent weather wasn’t ruining her one chance at some fun.
“Stop fidgeting,” her mother gently chastised beside her.
Ainsley did as she was bid. Not so much because her mother had asked but because the men were easier to make out. The one on the right had longer, darker hair then the other. There was a dangerous swagger to the set of his shoulders that caught Ainsley’s notice. It was exactly the kind she liked.
Anticipation sizzled along her skin as she allowed her eyes to wander down his broad chest and narrow hips. Not that he looked thin. Not at all. He was just all muscle and strength.
Her eyes briefly flicked to the other man. He was bigger. Not taller, but more heavily muscled. The sway of the first man’s body drew her eyes again. It was mesmerizing.
She took a breath, and placed her prettiest smile upon her lips. She’d practiced it in the mirror before every dance she attended and knew it was perfect.
“Ainsley,” Aunt Millicent called, hailing her niece. Her father’s sister had always been one of her very favorite people.
She lifted her heavy skirts and made her way gingerly to her aunt. “Auntie,” she called as she nearly tossed the skirts to the side in order to reach for her aunt’s hands and then kiss her cheek. “So glad you made it.”
“Me too. It was quite the ordeal.” Her aunt squeezed her hands, a shadow crossing her face.
Ainsley wanted to ask what had happened but her aunt had stepped aside to greet Ainsley’s mother and her uncle came to kiss her cheek.
Her dratted skirt was tangling in her legs and she tried to shift its folds again, but it was near impossible as her uncle gestured to the two men behind him. “May I present Lady Ainsley McDougal.” Her uncle stepped back to allow her to give a slight curtsey, though she wobbled a little in the heavy skirts. Drat, what a mistake this had been. “Ainsley, this is Lord Callum Tate, Earl of Blackwood.” he gestured to the thicker, and in her opinion, less attractive man. “And this is Laird James McPherson, the Earl of Rotheport.”
Their eyes met and for a moment, Ainsley held her breath. His were golden brown pools of deliciousness filled with a warmth that near stole her breath in an otherwise hard-looking man.
He gave her a nod of acknowledgement, and without saying a word, began to follow her uncle.
Ainsley blinked. He was walking away from her? No smile, no greeting. Men did not treat her such. “Lord Rotheport,” she called, halting his slight on her.
“Yes, Lady Ainsley?” He turned back to her and this time he did hold a smile. But it wasn’t warm and pleasant like his eyes, rather it was smug. Like he’d known she would call him back.
Searching her mind, she attempted to come up with a plausible explanation as to why she’d addressed him. “Can you tell me what happened with my aunt and uncle?”
“I’m sure they will tell you themselves.” His eyes raked over her. But rather than seeming impressed by her appearance, his brow creased in clear disapproval. “But you should likely change first. It’s a watery tale and you’re already soaked.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.” Her back, already straight, snapped to attention at those words and the disapproval they implied. Who was he to judge her attire?
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing your aunt was more practically dressed. I’d never have been able to save her.” And then he followed her uncle to greet her mother.
“Well that…” she started, staring after him. “I mean it was just rude,” she huffed a breath. “Who does he think he is talking to?” If she’d thought him handsome, she’d been mistaken. There had never been a more arrogant, unattractive man to grace Scotland.
She heard a chuckle and turned to realize she had completely ignored the other gentleman. The one who hadn’t walked away or insulted her. The very tall, broad, and still attractive one. She dismissed the voice that claimed he wasn’t quite as handsome as Lord Rotheport. But as she went to greet him, she struggled to remember his name. “Forgive me, my lord.” She made another attempt at a courtesy and nearly fell again. His hand shot out to steady her at the elbow. His fingers were strong and pleasant as he held her in place. This was how a man should act.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he gave her a warm smile. “If it isn’t too forward of me, I’ll offer you my elbow to assist you back to the house.”
A genuine smile spread across her lips. “That is very kind of you.” she linked her hand into his arm. “It was silly of me to forget the storm. My dress has positively wicked up all the rain water.”
He nodded his head. “Storms are easier to forget when you are safely tucked into a warm house.”
“Was it last night’s storm that gave my aunt and uncle such trouble?” she asked, truly feeling silly then.
But he gave her a warm look of understanding. “No, my lady. It was another, earlier in the week. The weather is usually unpredictable
as winter approaches but this year storm after storm is battering the sea.”
Ainsley sucked in her breath. No wonder they had been late. “Oh dear, thank goodness you came to my family’s rescue.”
“I can’t take the credit there. That was Captain McPherson.” He nodded to the dark-haired devil walking ahead of them.
“Captain? He is the captain of the ship despite being an earl and a laird?” She couldn’t quite keep the indignation out of her voice. No wonder the man thought he was so superior.
Lord— drat she couldn’t remember his name, chuckled again. “Quite right,” he replied as he helped her up the large stone steps. “Though, I call him captain because he was my regiment’s captain in the war.”
She wished she could roll her eyes. Did the man have to be so insufferably accomplished? How irritating.
As soon as they entered the entryway, her cousin-in-law, Laird Ewan McDougal, greeted them. Ainsley noted that Lord Rotheport was considerably more polite to the men. The cad.
Clarissa’s English cousin, Agnes, also joined the group with her intended, Laird Keiran McKenna. They’d only just gotten engaged. A little twinge of jealousy passed through Ainsley at the sight of the couple, Keiran’s gaze full of love as he looked at Agnes. She’d had scores of suitors, but none had ever looked at her with that depth of emotion.
She glanced to Lord Rotheport and noted that he was also assessing Agnes, but this time his eyes lit with something far more like approval. Her own irritation grew. What was it that Agnes had the she lacked?
Ewan stepped up to greet his wife, taking her hand in his and Keiran did the same with Agnes. He gave Lord Rotheport a glowering look as he wrapped his arm around Agnes’s waist. Ainsley hid a satisfied smile behind her hand. Keiran was a fierce man in his own right. In that moment she almost hoped that Lord Rotheport did attempt to flirt with Agnes. Keiran would surely give him his comeuppance.
A Scot's Surrender: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 3) Page 11