A Laird to Remember: Scottish Historical Romance (Brides of Scotland Book 4)

by Tammy Andresen

  A large hand pounded on her back as she spewed mud from her mouth and her nose.

  “A mouse scared the horse who knocked into Lady Daisy,” the Scot next to her rumbled, low and deep. Gads, the man had a booming baritone of a voice.

  “Lady Daisy?” the man asked. Then there was a pause. “Why, Rose Morningstar, is that really you?”

  Daisy spit another hunk of mud and then swiped at her eyes. Which did almost nothing to remove the mud. She let out another groan of despair. This couldn’t be happening. Not only had Lord Price recognized her sister first but he’d not been aware he’d come to Scotland to visit her at all. He wasn’t searching for his lost love and now she was caked in mud for their reunion. Humiliation curled her shoulders even as tried uselessly to wipe her face again.

  “I am,” Rose answered. “Or I was.” Rose’s voice grew higher and tighter with each word. “Daisy, are you quite all right?”

  Suddenly, her face was covered again and she realized a large hand was swiping at the mud blocking her eyes. “I’m verra sorry, lass. I didna mean to let me horse knock ye down.”

  She blinked open her eyes, now able to use them since he’d wiped away the worst of the mud. Daisy tried to decide whether she’d accept his apology or tell him to go to bloody hell. She looked up into his concerned eyes, mud dripping down her nose.

  But before she could answer, Lord Price started talking again. “And to think, it’s been how many years? Four?”

  “Three,” Rose answered stepping closer to Daisy. “We’ll bring you around back by the kitchen where they can pull the tub into the yard and get the worst of the mud off you before you go into the house.”

  “Three years,” Lord Price continued. “Is that all? And here you ladies are, successful in Scotland. How did that come about?”

  Daisy shook her hands, splattering mud as everyone but the hulking Scot took a step back. Really? He didn’t even know of her father’s death? Her near ruin? She could see his impeccable waistcoat and cravat from between her mud-covered lashes. She suddenly had the distinct urge to go up and hug him for their reunion. Maybe plant a giant muddy kiss on his cheek.

  “Stories should likely wait,” the Scot answered. “Are ye hurt?”

  She turned to look at him, starting to move several joints in her body, then winced in pain as she tested her shoulders. “The horse bumped my left arm, it’s a bit—” But before she could finish, he swept her into his rather strong arms.

  “Lead the way and we’ll get her cleaned up,” he rumbled as Rose started moving down the drive to access the path the to the back of the house.

  “Do ye need me?” Colin called from the left.

  Daisy looked over the man’s shoulder as she settled into the hard heat of him. She had to admit, he felt quite good. She’d hardly been aware of how cold she was until he’d held her close with an effortlessness that left her breathless. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms about his neck, then realized she’d completely gotten him filthy.

  “Greetings, Mr. McCreevy,” Rose called. “We’ll join you as soon as we can.”

  “Are ye cold?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest and straight through her as her arms tightened about his neck.

  He didn’t seem to notice the mud now dripping down the front of his coat. “Warmer now,” she answered, not sure what to say. She must look like an absolute fright. Not that she cared. Well, she’d cared a few moments ago when her meeting with Lord Price had been ruined. Not that Lord Price had any concern for her. Irritation prickled along her skin. “No thanks to you.”

  He grimaced, his mouth turning down. “My apologies. Max is a good horse but high-spirited and a bit temperamental.”

  She sniffed, and more mud slid up her nose making her choke again. In response, he pounded her back a second time as Rose disappeared into the kitchen, likely to order a bath. “If you knew that, why did you have the horse on such loose reins?”

  His grimace turned into more of a scowl. “It’s my fault ye’ve got mice in yer house?”

  She clucked her tongue. “It’s your fault your horse nearly killed me.”

  “Ye’re a prickly one,” he stopped walking then, looking down into her face, “I take it.”

  Her mouth fell open as she stared back. “Look at me. Who wouldn’t be prickly?”

  Blake clenched his teeth. She had a point there.

  But he also recognized her type. Just like Max, this woman was high-spirited. Beautiful, yes. She’d be another wild ride that would end just as badly. She was exactly like Ailish. He didn’t want any type of lady at this time, but he especially needed to stay away from temperamental beauties. “Of course ye’re right there. Again, I apologize fer Max knockin’ ye in the mud.”

  She blinked her eyes, looking away as they reached the back door. Lady MacFarland poked her head out. “They’re heating the water now. I’ll get the tub.” Then she disappeared again.

  He continued to hold Daisy. He should set her down but he was worried she’d grow colder, and honestly, the little chit felt nice in his arms. Light as feather, she fit against him like she was made to be there. “So ye’ve been in Scotland three years?”

  She nodded, not looking at him. “That’s right.”

  “What brought ye here?” He didn’t see the point in standing here silently since he’d committed to holding her.

  She pressed her lips together holding in a sigh. “My father passed away. We came in search of my aunt who was the former lairdess.”

  He quirked a brow. “Yer sister inherited the property?”

  “That’s right,” Daisy answered, looking up at him.

  He could see the clear blue of her eyes even through the mud, and for a moment, he stopped breathing. They were the color of the sky on a sunny day. “And then she married a ship captain that she made a laird?” MacFarland really was a lucky bastard if that was the case.

  Daisy shrugged and then winced, pulling her arm from around his neck and cradling it to her body. “He brought us from England to Scotland when no one else would. They fell in love even before they knew about the inheritance. Then, he was providing a future for us when we weren’t sure we had one.”

  He squeezed her a bit tighter. First because she clearly was hurt and that bothered him. He’d injured her with his careless action. But second, the little she’d told him of her story, it was clear they’d suffered.

  “He’s a good man,” she said, her voice near a whisper. “You’ll like doing business with him.”

  He looked down at her mud-covered face, his chest tightening. What was it about that comment that shifted his feelings about her? Softened his impression. Was it that she held her brother-in-law in such high regard or she’d been considerate enough to aid him in his business decision even after he’d knocked her down? “Thank ye.” Then he cleared his throat. “I ken this is a bit delicate, but I can undo the buttons of yer dress if ye’d like.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she gasped, stiffening in his arms.

  He liked her better relaxed against him. Which was ridiculous. He was here for a contract, he reminded himself. And currently, he was simply trying to right a wrong by helping her. “I only wanted to help you get into a warm bath faster, lass. Ye must be freezin’,” he said, though a bit of color peeked from out of the mud on her cheeks.

  “I’m rather warm actually. You’re a bit like a wood stove.”

  He chuckled at that and then she shivered in his arms. One of his brows quirked. Had she grown cold or did she like his laugh? “Well, in that case, we’ll wait fer yer sister and soon as she’s chaperoning, I’ll start on the buttons. That way ye’ll be warm until then.”

  She smiled at him then, in what he thought was a lively way, if not for all the mud. “Just rip the dress off, it’s ruined anyway.”

  His breath seized in his chest as he pictured ripping this woman’s clothes off. He knew he shouldn’t like the image so much but damn his body responded to the idea. “I…”

  “T
he water’s ready,” Rose called from the door. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

  Dear merciful saints, he was going to have to tear off her clothes. Was he in heaven or hell?

  Chapter Three

  Daisy shivered again as the man set her on her feet. For such a large man, his touch was decidedly gentle as he shifted her weight.

  “Are ye certain ye want me to tear the fabric?” he asked.

  “I’m certain,” she answered, but now that he’d set her down, she wasn’t at all sure. Somehow, him removing her clothing in general, and tearing them specifically, seemed far too intimate. Except for the fact that Rose and three house maids currently filled the tub with steaming hot water.

  Which looked delightful. Without his warmth, the cold seeped through her wet clothing.

  “All right. I’m going to rip up so that I don’t tug at yer shoulder. Ye’ll feel my hands at yer waist.” And he grabbed the fabric in her lower back.

  “I’m sure I can—” Rose started but before she could even finish the decided rip of fabric filled the air.

  “No need,” he answered, working her good arm out of the sleeve. “I’ll be quicker, and we don’t want the lady to get too cold. A chill will make everythin’ worse.”

  Rose bit her lower lip as her eyes met Daisy’s. The last bucket of water went in and the maids raced back into the kitchen to fetch more. He started working the sleeve down her other arm and Daisy looked away, wincing in pain. Her shoulder gave a decided throb and for the first time, she wondered how injured she actually was.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ll have to look at that shoulder.” He worked the bodice off and bent down, scooting the fabric over her hips. The pain was forgotten as heat flushed her entire body. “I’m sure I’m fine. I…” She didn’t know what to say. She’d never been this intimately situated with any man before.

  “Can ye call for a doctor?” he asked, looking over to Rose. “I’ll pay fer any care she needs.”

  “Of course. I’ll have one of the stable boys go.” Rose started up the hill toward the barn. “Have Eliza stay as your chaperone,” she called over her shoulder as the man tugged off her corset. She hadn’t even felt him pulling on the strings.

  “My.” She gave a nervous laugh that came out shaky from the shivers. “You’re quite good at that.”

  He didn’t answer as suddenly his hands were up under her chemise. She yelped but he ignored that too as her pantaloons landed in a heap at her feet. Then he was lifting her again. “I’m going tae set ye in the tub now lass, then we’ll dump water over yer face and hair when more buckets arrive.”

  That made her cry out again but not in pain. “You can’t put me in the bath. My chemise. It will—” The words become completely sheer died on her lips as the hot water touched her rear. She was in the water before she could start talking again and she immediately brought up her hands to cover her breasts. Which made her shoulder ache in pain. But honestly, she’d been more right than she cared to admit. As soon as the water had dampened the wet fabric, her rosy nipples had become completely noticeable. “Oh dear lord,” she murmured, sinking down into the water. At least the mud was already turning the bath opaque.

  He looked beyond her at the horizon his jaw clenched. For the first time, she noticed how dirty he’d become while caring for her. “Your jacket is ruined.”

  He shook his head, still not looking at her. “I’ve got more. Let’s worry about ye first.”

  The back door banged open and more hot water arrived for the bath. He took one of the buckets. “Can ye lean yer head back?” he asked.

  She hesitated, not sure and afraid to test. Would that pull at her shoulder too?

  Without another word, he held her head at the base of her neck and gently tipped her head back then used her other hand, to pour the water through her hair. “Oh, that feels delightful,” she sighed. She didn’t just mean the water, she also meant his touch. How could a man with such large hands be so dexterous and tender?

  This was hell after all, Blake decided. The sounds she made as he poured water over her head, the way Daisy looked in the bath… She was torturing him. He reminded himself that women like Daisy were a distraction but damn it all to hell if he didn’t crave just such a diversion.

  He’d outgrown that, he told himself. Women with fiery spirits burned out. He was a man intent upon one goal. And that wasn’t to bed beautiful women who happened across his path.

  But what about ones he needed to rescue from dangerous mud puddles? “I’m going tae pour some on yer face. Hold yer breath now.” He started to send a gentle stream down her forehead and over her nose and cheeks, revealing her creamy pink skin underneath the caking layer of mud. Lower, over the point of her chin and then down the column of her delicate neck. When he reached her collar bone, his body was thrumming with need. Her hands relaxed, slipping down her torso and he caught sight of her round, full breasts and dark pink nipples. A lump clogged his throat.

  Suddenly a blanket covered her top, a maid giving him a healthy glare. “My lord, a bath has been prepared fer ye as well. We’ll take over from here.”

  He stood, a frown marking his brow. “My clothes. What few I brought are—”

  “It’s been taken care of already.” The little redhead made a shooing motion with her hand. “Inside with ye.”

  He stood taller, his hands coming to his hips. He didn’t want to leave Lady Daisy. Which seemed odd except for that he was responsible for her injury and he was a man who always righted his wrongs. “I want to speak with the doctor.”

  “I don’t think—” she started but Daisy interrupted.

  “It’s all right Eliza. He can speak with the doctor after the examination.” Then Daisy looked at him, her blue eyes flashing from the tub. “Go warm yourself, my lord.”

  He gave a quick jerk of his chin and allowed another maid to lead him inside. Very quickly he was ushered into a small room off the kitchen, where a valet helped him bathe. The man swept away his dirty clothing and provided him with clean ones, likely Colin’s. They were a bit snug in the shoulders, but otherwise a decent fit.

  Dressed, he was led upstairs and ushered into a study, not to see Daisy but to meet the other men attending the meeting. He grimaced. Somehow, he’d completely forgotten his mission here.

  Colin stood as he entered. “Laird Abbott, good to see you’ve joined us. How does Daisy fare?”

  Blake stood straighter. “The mud has been removed. Last I knew, they were waiting for the doctor.”

  “Doctor?” Laird MacFarland’s face tensed. “Did something happen to her?”

  He clenched his fist at his side. Much as this meeting was important to him, he’d never be able to concentrate. “The horse hit her shoulder. Would ye mind if we checked on her? I feel responsible and—”

  “Oh dear.” The Englishman stood too.

  He was the sort of handsome that made Blake’s lip curl in distaste. Slicked hair, almost feminine features in their perfection, thin body, and impeccably cut clothes.

  “I have a fond memory of Lady Daisy. I hate to see her hurt.”

  A fond memory? What the bloody hell did that mean? He clenched his fists even tighter, but then forced them to relax, realizing jealousy had swelled inside him. Instead of responding, he looked back at Colin. “I’ll make the stop brief and then we can get to work but I want to ken she’s all right.”

  “Of course.” Colin nodded then he turned back to the other two men. “Mr. McCreevy. Lord Price. We’ll be back momentarily. In the meantime, refreshments will be served fer yer benefit.” Then he turned back to Blake. “Shall we?”

  Blake gave a single nod. “Please.” He’d just make certain that she wasn’t too hurt and then he amended to return to business and forget about little blonde spitfires.

  Chapter Four

  Daisy lay in bed, feeling both better and worse. The mud had been washed from her body and her hair had been simply braided, a fresh night rail lay against
her skin.

  The doctor had just left the room and declared her arm to be severely bruised. He’d recommended bedrest for a few days, followed by light activity. At this rate, seeing Lord Price with her face covered in mud would be their one and only interaction.

  She scrubbed her face with a single hand, not certain she even cared. He hadn’t remembered her and didn’t even know he’d see her here today. What was more, as the Scot had touched her and held her, she’d forgotten Lord Price existed. Damn. Rose had been right all along.

  As if her sister heard Daisy think her name, she shuffled over the to the bed, adjusting the covers. “You’re sighing again.”

  “Was I?” Daisy asked, looking toward the window. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I know you’re disappointed after what happened with Lord Price this morning,” her sister said. “I told you not to get your hopes up. The man is a flirt at best and a rake at worst.”

  Daisy frowned. “Easy for you to say. You’ve found your one true love. I’m back to being an old maid.”

  Rose let out a tinkling laugh. “Stop being so dramatic. You’re young and quite lovely. You can have any man you choose. Even a tall and handsome Scot who bathes muddy women.”

  Her skin prickled. Was her sister playing matchmaker? She knew Rose wanted her to stay in Scotland, but that man was…she struggled for the words. Large…handsome… decidedly nice to touch. She swiped away those thoughts. Something about him was unsettling in an irritating way. “What was his name again?”

  Rose tsked. “Laird Blake Abbot.” She straightened. “You were introduced, remember?”

  “I know.” Daisy played with the coverlet. “But at the time I was focused on Lord Price. Besides.” She nibbled the inside of her lips as she told a little white lie. “I am still interested in pursuing a courtship with Lord Price, despite what you think. Just because he didn’t remember me doesn’t mean he’s ill-intentioned.”

  Rose stomped her foot. “Stubborn girl. You’ve always been too willful for your own good.”