My Enemy, My Earl: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 1)

by Tammy Andresen

  But her father had insisted she be more ladylike on this trip. More to the point, he wanted her to act like a lady so that she might marry a respectable Scotsman. They were travelling to a summit of lairds, many of them with eligible sons. She’d known most of these men her entire life, and she knew she didn’t want any of them.

  It made her furious just thinking about it.

  Her father told her over and over, “Ye’re inheriting a title. How can ye not find a husband?” As though it was some flaw of hers that was the issue.

  He’d even brought suitors back to Ravenscraig, but she’d rejected each one. The truth was she just hadn’t wanted any of them. And while her father talked of titles, duty, and responsibility; her heart called for love and passion. The kind that ran wild and free.

  She’d only ever wanted one man with such absolute abandon. Colin Campbell.

  Well not now, of course. Now she didn’t want him at all. In fact, now she never wanted to see him as long as she lived. Because he was an arse. No, more like a wolf. No, wolves were too regal. He was a hog without regard to others’ feelings or wants. He was just merrily wallowing in mud.

  He was also her oldest friend. They had played as children, teased and competed. But somewhere along the way her feelings had changed. The old excitement was there, of course. The thrill of racing horses or swimming across the loch, but a new energy had infused their relationship. It was a longing that had filled her. An ache to be with him, to touch him.

  She didn’t know when her own emotions had shifted but she knew exactly when everything changed between them. It was the night they’d been alone in the barn. Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered what had happened.

  He knew she went out for night rides. Her father had a suitor there at the house, the Earl of Dumfries. She’d wanted to escape her family, the social responsibilities. Not that Dumfries had been pursuing her. In fact, he just married her cousin.

  She tried to explain all this to Colin but he seemed determined to be angry. It was so unlike him, that it perplexed her to no end. When he’d arrived in the barn, she could tell something was different. He’d seemed angry, heated. “Where’s yer beau? Why isn’t he riding with ye?”

  She’d huffed at him then. “What’s the matter with ye? Only my father thinks he’s my beau.”

  “Yer saying, he isn’t courtin’ ye?” Colin was steadily moving closer.

  “I suppose he is. But Ewan really wants--”

  Colin interrupted her. “It’s Ewan now, is it?”

  “He wants Clarissa, Colin. He’s as smitten as a man can be.” She rolled her eyes then as he’d come to stand directly in front of her.

  “So yer not marryin’ him? Because love and marriage often have little to do with one another.”

  What was he taking about? But she forgot to ask as his hand reached up to touch her braid. As he stood in front of her in the dim light of the barn, he’d made her feel soft inside as he lightly caressed her hair. He’d filled her with a yearning she didn’t understand. Alone in the near dark, she wanted to touch him too. She’d wanted that a great deal lately, and it was getting harder to resist.

  She was jarred back to the present when the carriage hit a bump and she was near thrown off the seat. She let out a curse, tired of being trapped. She banged against the door to vent her frustration. Her father rapped back. “Behave, Fiona. Ye’ve run out of chances.”

  Her teeth gritted. It was Colin’s fault her father was so angry.

  Because she’d stopped holding back. And there, in the barn, she’d reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Heat had spread through her hand, down her arm, and to the juncture of her legs. “Ye shouldn’t be here,” she’d whispered.

  “Why not?” He’d stepped closer then, his other hand coming to her waist. “We’ve been riding like this since we were wee bairns.”

  A gasp escaped her lips as she turned her face to his. “It’s different.”

  But he hadn’t answered. Because his lips dropped to press lightly against hers. She’d never kissed a man before and she melted into him. It was delicious.

  “We’ll be there inside of an hour,” her father called, bringing her back to the present. “Use yer time to make yerself presentable.”

  “I’m presentable already,” she gritted out. “All I’ve done is sit in this carriage.”

  The carriage rumbled to a stop as he swung open the door, still on the back of his horse and assessed her from top to bottom. Grunting, he gave her a long look. “You’ll find a husband this trip Fiona or I’ll choose for ye.” Then he slammed it shut again.

  Fiona rarely cried, but tears pricked at her eyes, the memories flooding her. They’d barely spoken as their bodies had locked together. The kiss had deepened and lengthened until they found themselves in a stall, laying in the hay.

  Time had fallen away as they’d held each other.

  When he’d touched her in the most intimate place, she’d known. Colin was the only man for her.

  In the morning, he’d promised to return that night. To speak with her father together. She’d known he would ask for her hand. Why wouldn’t he?

  But things had started to go wrong the moment he left. After their night in the barn, the family had realized her absence. That was when her father had demanded she find a husband before anyone else discovered she’d been missing for an entire night. She’d nearly told him there was nothing to be concerned about. That she’d been with Colin and he’d proposed. But she’d kept it to herself. Her father would be furious with her new husband, and while he’d be suspicious when Colin offered, it would be better if her father didn’t know for certain.

  By nightfall, she began to worry. Why hadn’t he come? When Colin didn’t come the next day, she knew something must be wrong. She’d considered going to find out but her father was absolutely furious and she didn’t dare break another rule. So she’d sent her sister, Ainsley, instead. Just to make sure he wasn’t hurt or ill. Ainsley, having no idea why she’d been sent, had declared him right as rain.

  Why hadn’t he come?

  That was when her heart had broken. She’d never forgive him for this. Never.

  He had been her friend for as long as she could remember. How could he do this to her? Hurt her like this?

  The carriage rumbled on before finally coming to a rest. They must have arrived at Laird Stewart’s home. Not that she could see enough to tell. But he was hosting this summit of land owners in the area so she was sure they must have arrived.

  Her nerves jangled as she craned her neck to see who was outside. Part of her knew she was being selfish. They’d come to discuss their home. Scotland was changing. Scots were leaving of their own volition to go to Canada or America. While Scotland was growing industry and trade, it wasn’t supporting its people and so they were immigrating in search of a better life. At least, that is what her father thought and she agreed. But she couldn’t think of that now.

  Because her father had brought her here to find her a husband. Fiona sighed. She only hoped Shamus was in attendance with Laird Campbell rather than Colin. After what had happened, she never wanted to see him again.

  Her father snapped open the door, but it was like a different man that greeted her this time. All smiles and warmth, he reached for her hand. Fiona knew he was putting on a show for whoever was outside the carriage. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for being angry. She hadn’t been the easiest child. But she’d find her way if he just allowed it to happen rather than pushing so hard.

  She stepped from the buggy. Her eyes sweeping the house, lands and people who stood to greet them. Not for the first time, she wished Emilia or Ainsley were here now. They’d soothe her father, and help Fiona figure out what to do in the face of so many would-be suitors.

  The eyes of Laird Stewart and his two sons landed upon her the moment she stepped from the carriage. She’d been called a Scot beauty before. While her nose was spattered with freckles, her eyes were a nice shade of green. S
he’d always thought so anyway. And her hair was a flaming color of red, while it was not her favorite, Colin had long told her it was warm and inviting. Thoughts of him immediately made her heart skip a beat but she ignored it, determined to forget Colin or, at the very least, remain angry at him.

  “You ken my daughter, Lady Fiona.” Her father gave both the Stewart sons a glowing smile. Fiona refrained from rolling her eyes. He needn’t be so ingratiating. Hell would freeze over and her hair would turn white before she’d marry one of those two.

  “Ye rode in a carriage, Fiona?” Alister near crowed. “I had no idea ye looked like that. Usually yer hair’s a tangled mess and--” He stopped when his father elbowed him in the ribs.

  As the two elders stepped aside, their heads bowed together in conversation, Fiona was left with the Stewart brothers. Her teeth clenched.

  Fergus was more subtle. He took her gloved hand, giving it a kiss. Leaning over, he whispered, “I ken another way to tangle yer hair.”

  Fiona blinked, her other hand fisting in her skirt. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Normally, she’d have landed her right fist on his nose for such a comment but her father stood smiling not ten feet away, completely unaware of what an arse Fergus was. So instead she placed a bland look on her face and delivered her barb without her fist. Dropping into a curtsey, she saw his eyes drift to her cleavage. As she stood, she moved closer so as not to be overheard. “The man who musses my hair will find himself at the alter the next morn’,” she murmured softly all the while keeping a smile upon her face.

  Fergus paled as he took a step back.

  Her father’s eyes narrowed as he watched but he did not rejoin her and instead resumed conversation with Laird Stewart.

  It was sure to be a long day.

  More men joined them in the lane, leaving the comfort of the Stewarts’ home to come out to greet them. The elder men gravitated towards her father, the younger gathered with her, Angus, and Fergus.

  Standing straighter, her insides tightened, ready to snap with every man whose eyes roved over her.

  As the Lockwood sons joined the conversation, they were even less subtle.

  “So different, Fiona.” Rutland Lockwood had allowed himself a slow perusal of her figure. “Who ken ridin a horse like ye do made ye ready for ridin a man.”

  “I didnae ken ye’d make such a fine wife, yer usually covered in mud,” Barclay smirked with a glint in his eye.

  She pasted her falsest smile upon her lips. She often traded barbs with the boys, but she felt at a disadvantage now, dressed as she was. “Not even mud can hide the fact that yer a scrawny scarecrow,” she sneered at Barclay as the other men snickered. Turning to Rutland, her green eyes narrowed. “And you, Rutland,” her voice had dropped dangerously and Rutland actually took a half step back. “Elizabeth Crawley had an interesting story about what a ride with you was like.”

  It was a dirty blow and she knew it. But Rutland deserved to have this story thrown in his face after what he’d just said. Her second cousin, Elizabeth, had allowed him to kiss her in the barn and the man had spilled his seed in his own pants.

  For a moment, Rutland stood still as a statue, his face in slack lines of disbelief as the other men roared with laughter around her. If her father ever heard her, he’d box her ears. But they had started it, they’d always started it, because they knew she could give it back.

  But Rutland’s face was changing. It went bright red and then taut with anger. Wearing a corset and petticoats, there would be no escaping his wrath and his hand raised as he stepped toward her. “Why you little--”

  Someone stepped in front of her blocking Rutland from her view. It took less than a second to recognize the back of Colin’s head. He’d come, after all. Her insides clenched with anger and excitement, blast him to hell. “Touch her, and it will be me that takes it out of yer hide.” Colin’s voice was low and menacing. His broad shoulders set wider than any other man’s while his hands were raised, ready for a fight. He was taller and more muscular than any of the other men here, and the familiar ache began in her nether regions. She huffed a sigh at him and at herself.

  “Colin,” she snapped, regaining her senses. She didn’t need him for anything, ever.

  Not acknowledging she spoke, he didn’t reply as he continued to stare down the men in front of him. She was already annoyed, at her father, at the other men that surrounded her, and most especially at Colin. She jabbed him in the small of his back with her finger. “Move out of the way, I don’t need yer help.”

  Rutland laughed then. “Ye heard her, Colin. Fiona doesn’t need yer help. She’s more of a man than ye are.”

  Fiona sucked in her breath. Not because she was particularly upset but because Rutland was about to get licked good. Colin would not stand the insult, that she knew. He was stronger and tougher than most Scottish men, and that was saying something.

  Colin stepped closer to Rutland, and his voice dropped low and quiet. “I’m going to beat ye good for that. Ye’re not going to know when or where but it will happen. And after it does, ye’ll apologize to Fiona or I will do it again and again until ye do.”

  “I was only jokin’.” Rutland took a half step back. He knew he was no match for Colin. “There’s no need to be like that.”

  “Fiona is a lady--” Colin started but Rutland interrupted.

  “Fiona is not a lady, at least not like the rest of ‘em. She’s always been willing to trade barbs and--”

  “Do ye see her? Does she look like she’s here to trade barbs?” Colin took a breath and she took the opportunity to step in front of him.

  The other men crowded around them, forming a circle that blocked them from the elders’ view.

  Turning to Colin, she gave him a little push on the chest. Which likely was a mistake because her body tingled from the contact. She ignored it. “I dunnae need ye to help me.”

  Rutland moved closer behind her, likely feeling more secure now she was between him and Colin. “You heard her, she doesn’t need ye to help her.” Then he placed his hand on her arse and gave one of her cheeks a squeeze. She sucked in her breath, anger coursing through her. He’d gone too far this time.

  Spinning, in one fluid motion, she cracked him in the face with her fist. How dare he touch her? Her blow landed directly on his hawkish nose, which immediately began spewing blood.

  Rutland let out a roar of pain and Colin pulled her back so that she just missed Rutland’s return swing. Tucking her behind him, Colin stepped up and cracked Rutland again, sending him crashing to the ground.

  “What the devil?” her father roared, likely hearing the noise. He lumbered over to join them. Her father was a great deal slower than he used to be but he still towered over the men, even Colin. Fiona’s stomach gave a flutter of nerves. Her father would be angry at her fit of temper, even if Rutland deserved it. She tucked her now bloodied fist in her dark green skirt. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

  “Just some friendly banter is all,” Colin gave her a father an easy grin. The other men nodded and stepped in front of Rutland. If there was one rule, it was that they did not allow their parents to see their antics.

  She’d known many of these young men since she was a child, none of them had liked that she kept up with them, not that she’d cared. But the tenor had changed and it frightened her just a touch. Rutland, or any of the others had never tried to touch her like that. For a brief moment, she was glad Colin was by her side. If nothing else, he’d keep her safe.

  But then she remembered. He hadn’t been there when she’d really needed him. When her father had demanded she marry. Stepping away from Colin, she smoothed her dress and returned to her father’s side.

  She didn’t look back at him as she walked at her father’s side into the Stewarts’ estate. She was done with Colin Campbell.

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  More about Tammy

  Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.