HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance)

by Tencia Winters

  He held out a small velvet box for her and she took it gingerly.

  “It’s so beautiful, Emmett.”

  “Well, you have to open it up,” he laughed, and she blushed again as she took off the lid. She gasped at what she had unveiled. The most beautiful think she had ever seen lay inside. A ring with a single diamond that shone up from a sea of blue green aquamarines.

  “Oh my, Emmett. Oh my. Oh my.”

  “Is that all you can say?” He laughed at her again and she sent him a mock scowl.

  “It’s…incredible. Absolutely incredible,” she said, never once looking away from him. And he truly was.

  Chapter 3

  Life was heaven. There was no other word to describe the pure bliss coursing through her veins as she looked over the coach bench at her husband, his handsome face relaxed and smiling as they road toward the center of the town. Jamey was at the reins, guiding the horses and she had learned over the past weeks that he had a deft hand indeed. He was even training to be a Jockey at some local races.

  Clara knew her happiness showed on her face for all to see, but how could it not? She could not have asked for a better home, a better fresh start, and most of all, a better husband. Emmett was everything she had ever imagined she wanted, and even more.

  She knew she was falling in love with him, but again, how could she not? She snuck another glance at him and this time, couldn’t contain herself.

  “Emmett, what are we going to do in town? Do you have a lot of friends there? Is there someplace special you’re taking me?” The questions popped out rapid fire and she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself. Emmett just looked over and smiled.

  “We are going dress shopping. I wouldn’t call them friends. And yes.” He smiled again, more mysterious this time and Clara couldn’t help the urge to rile him a bit. She gave him an exaggerated look up and down.

  “I don’t know, Emmett. I’m not sure how you would look in a dress.” He did laugh out loud at that remark and threw an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. It warmed her all the way to her toes.

  “It’s not for me, silly. I wanted to buy you some new dresses, that’s all. I noticed the ones you had were getting a little…older.” Older was putting it kindly, she thought as she looked at him.

  “Thank you, Emmett. That is very sweet of you.”

  “Of course, there are some other things you’ll need too.” He said, and that devilish look was back in his dark eyes.

  “Like what?” Clara asked when he was silent for a long moment.

  “Petticoats. Hosiery. Under things.” He said it so nonchalantly that it took a moment for it to sink in and she waited for the embarrassment to come, but it never did. Instead, she found she was as comfortable with this man as she ever had been. It was like she had known him her entire life rather than just two short weeks.

  They rolled into the dusty town about half of an hour later and Jamey pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the dress maker’s shop. Clara was impressed as they walked in at all of the fine fabrics and cutting edge fashions on display. It was almost too much for her to take in and she had no idea where to even start.

  All of the clothes she owned had belonged to her mother, which she had taken in and patched a hundred times over. It really was overwhelming. Luckily, just then the dress maker herself, whom Clara learned was called Miss Badington, took her in the hand and told her exactly what she needed. With a few pointed suggestions from Emmett, of course.

  It took several hours of trying on and twirling and pinning and altering for them to agree that she had enough dresses. She had protested after two that it was simply too much but she had been overrun. But she had to admit that the feel of silk and satin sliding against her skin was like nothing she had ever felt before.

  Finally, the fitting was complete, or so she thought until Emmett shot her a wink when Miss Badington brought out a whole additional tome at least a foot thick of underthings. Flushed, Clara took a deep breath.

  “Emmett, dear, I think…I think I need a break,” She leaned close so Miss Badington wouldn’t hear. “We’ve been at it for hours!”

  Emmett looked down and laughed, but nodded as he reached into his pocket. “Why don’t I finish up here, and you go for a walk. Take this. There’s a shop just down the street, Malory’s that sells cold flavored ice.”

  “Flavored ice?” She asked, looking at him dubiously.

  “It’s delicious, believe me. You’ll love it.” He smiled at her and that was all it took to convince her that she would.

  “I’ll be back shortly, husband.” Emmett smiled that single, charming smile that he reserved for when she called him that and answered in kind as she stood.

  “I hope so, wife.” His gaze never left her as she exited the dress maker’s and headed down the street in search of the other store, Mallory’s.

  Clara started to get the feeling that she had walked in the wrong direction when the crowd started to thin. There were less people milling about and the shops themselves started to look more run down and much less friendly.

  A prickle of unease shot down her spine as she turned a corner and came face to face with an alley. The unease soon turned to dread.

  “I know your trying to get a way form me girl,” a dirty hand shot out from behind her, grabbing the back of her dress by a bunch of fabric and yanking her backwards. “But you can never escape yer father.” The words were hissed in her ear as dread turned to complete and utter terror when he tried to pull her farther into the alley and away from any prying eyes.

  “Father! What are you…How did you find me?” She finally managed to get out, but her teeth were chattering so hard her words were barely understandable.

  “I’ve been following you since you gone up and left me with all of that debt and no money to pay it. I lost the home. I lost everything because of you.”

  “Because of me!” Anger fueled her words and she jerked away from him, scrambling around to come face to face with her worst nightmare. “You were the one who drank away every cent I slaved for! You were the one who couldn’t keep a job, who force me to work in that…” She cut off the words, not wanting anyone to overhear.

  “It’s your own fault, father. Not mine. I’m through with letting you blame everyone but yourself for your own problems. But I started new. I have a new life now, a good life. Can’t you just leave me be?”

  “Leave you be? You’re my daughter! You are supposed to take care of me. Respect thy father, isn’t’ that was the lord says?” He wobbled unsteadily and for the first time Clara noticed how slurred his words were. He was drunk. Again.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I can’t–.”

  “Now, you listen to me, you little bitch,” he was suddenly close as he reached for her arm and held it in a painfully tight grip, not allowing her to escape the stench of his breath as he continued spewing his vitriol. “Listen to me, here? You are going to come back with me, or else I’ll tell your new man everything. All of your secrets,” he leaned close to whisper, “working in a whore house. I’ll tell him everything and then he won’t want you, will he?”

  Clara could feel the tears sting the corners of each eye and she jerked her arm away before she could give in to his demands.

  “I won’t. I won’t.”

  “You don’t have a choice. I’ll tell him.” He grinned at her, as it was like seeing the devil smile.

  “No, I don’t care. I don’t care what happens. I’m not going back. I can’t.” Without another word she turned and fled back to where Jamey was waiting with the coach, ignoring his concerned and questioning stare as she quickly got in without a word.

  Clara wasn’t sure how long she sat there, quietly sobbing to herself before the side door was thrown open and before she knew it she was in Emmett’s arms, being held close as he rocked her back and forth. She couldn’t stem the flood and cried until there were no more tears left to cry.

  “Clara, sweetheart. What’s the matter? Did something h
appen?” The kindness and concern in his voice had another flood of tears threatening, but she held them back.

  “I can’t…I can’t tell you. It’s so awful, Emmett. I just can’t…” Her words trailed off. She just didn’t what to say, how she could possibly explain.

  She watched his expression grow dark, darker than she’d ever seen.

  “Did someone hurt you, Clara?” There was a deadness in his tone that scared even her a little bit and she hastened to reassure him that it was nothing like that.

  “I wish I could just forget the whole thing.” She said softly, but then she remembered her father’s threat, that she would tell Emmett the truth about her past. She looked up at him, at the man she had come to love and cherish even though she had known him for such a short time. She knew they were meant to be together, that fate had thrown them together. And she could also see the strength and caring shining in his eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, Clara turned to him until they were facing each other. And then she told him everything. All about how her parents had always been lower class, and when her mother had died in childbirth, her father had blamed Clara for her death. With no brothers or sisters, and no friends, it had been a lonely, terrible childhood which had continued into a lonely, terrible adolescence.

  Eventually she had been able to get a job in the hopes of one day being able to leave, to make a new, better life for herself but her father’s problem with alcohol had ended those dreams as quickly as they’d begun. He had begun betting in the hopes of making fast money but had landed them even further in debt until her only option had been to take a job as a day maid at a brothel.

  That was the hardest part to speak about, not because she had done anything wrong, and she hastened to explain that as well. But he never once judged her, or questioned her actions. In fact, he was so sympathetic that the more she spoke, the easier it became and soon the rest had flooded out in a mass torrent.

  Finally, she told him about her confrontation with her father and his threats. She sat back after a moment, completely drained but feeling lighter than she had in years as it was all out in the air. No more secrets to keep. No more threats her father could hang over her head.

  “You aren’t…disappointed?” Clara asked softly after a long moment, and tears leapt to her eyes as he leaned forward and placed the sweetest kiss against her lips.

  “Clara, if anything, I think you are even more amazing. To have grown up in such deplorable conditions, with such a despicable man for a father.” He paused, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle you turned out as kind and generous and compassionate as you are, and it’s all the more miraculous that you trusted me with your secrets. Thank you for that. For your trust in me.”

  “But what about my father?” Clara eventually asked.

  Emmett turned to look out the window as they started towards their home, his expression hardened in the dim light.

  “Don’t you worry about him. I have a plan.”

  Chapter 4

  Emmett ambled up the dusty stairs to the attic with a heavy heart and the fire of anger burning in his gut. The nerve of that man to call himself a father! He had tried to contain his rage at Clara’s words as she had confessed the tragedy of her past, as well as the nefarious scheme her so called father had concocted to try and threaten her into going back with him. And leave Emmett. Her husband!

  It still seemed strange to him, whenever he thought the word, but he couldn’t deny the secret thrill whenever his sweet Clara spoke the word out loud. It hit him square in the chest, and there was no denying. He stopped in the middle of the stairway as a thought struck him. Dear heavens, he was in love with her!

  He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, or even how, but in the short time they had known each other he had fallen so deeply under her spell he didn’t think he would ever be able to extricate himself. Nor that he wanted to. He was happy for the first time in…he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been truly happy. Probably not since he was a child. A very small child, before he had learned just how cruel the world could truly be. And he hated the fact that his kind, gentle wife had had to learn that particular lesson as well.

  Emmett continued his slow trek up to the attic and gently closed the door behind him. He knew Clara had fell into an exhausted sleep the moment they had returned home but he didn’t want to take any chance. She had been so brave to share her past with him. But he wasn’t as courageous as she was, and he didn’t want to take the chance of her finding out who and what he really was and turning away from him. He didn’t think he would survive that.

  The old chest still sat exactly where he’d left it almost three years ago, exactly where it was when he stopped Clara just before she’d opened it. That had been a close call. He had been lucky he had arrived just when he had or else his secret might have let out despite his best intentions to keep his past just that, in the past.

  With a sigh of regret and determination, he opened the creaky lid, unaware of the cloud of dust that fell off to scatter on the floor behind the trunk. He stared to into its long unused contents for several minutes, hesitating at the last moment before finally reaching down, and pulling out the things he’d been looking for and dreading all at the same time.

  The black leather duster came out first. He shook off the wrappings that had been keeping it semi protected for the damages of time and unfolded, barely letting himself think as he slipped on the floor length jacket. The hat came next. Solid black with a big brim that he could pull low over his eyes, concealing his expression.

  He stared the longest at the last item, buried all the way at the bottom, in the depths of the chest wear he had hidden it away three years ago and hadn’t touched since. It was a silver and black handled six shooter, five bullets still loaded in its chamber, encased in a soft black leather holster that hung low on his hips as Emmett buckled it on with a heavy weight in his chest. He had vowed that night that everything had gone so wrong that he would never put it on again, would never use it, but here he was. The outlaw. The rogue. Again and always.

  As quietly as he could, Emmett closed the trunk with a soft click and strode back the way he had come in. Down the stairs, across the hall, letting himself pause only a moment in front of Clara’s closed door as he wished her a silent goodnight, and swept out of the front door. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he never noticed her door creak open after he had passed, or his wife’s curvy figure sneaking through the hallway and after him into the night.

  *

  “Jamey! Jamey! Wake up.” Clara’s voice hissed through the dark room in the downstairs wind, right off of the kitchens.

  “Wha…Mrs. Latimer? What in the blazes are you, I mean, and what can I do for you?” He said groggily as he rubbed his eyes, sitting up in the bed. The covers slid down, revealing his pale, thin chest and he hastily hauled them back up. She could see even through the darkness of the night that he was blushing like a bonfire.

  “Jamey. This is no time for modesty,” She swore the blush deepened but she couldn’t be sure, perhaps it was just shadow’s shifting on the young man’s face. “Emmett is gone…somewhere. I think he’s going to do something very foolish.”

  “Is this about this afternoon?” Jamey said, suddenly all seriousness as he peered at her overwrought form. “I knew something were wrong, that’s why I went and fetched Mr. Latimer.” He looked away bashfully. “I hope that was alright.”

  “It was exactly the right thing to do Jamey, but listen. My husband had a very serious look on his face when he snuck out of the house less than ten minutes ago and…and he had a gun.”

  “A gun! Mr. Latimer?” Jamey scoffed, but Clara knew exactly what she had seen, and she remembered the look in his dark, mysterious eyes when he’d told her that afternoon that he had a plan.

  “Jamey. We have to save him. He’s going to do something dire, and I just can’t let that happen.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Mrs. Latimer. If he knows what he’s
doing, maybe we should–.”

  “I think he’s going after my father, Jamey.” Clara finally spit out. But the young man just looked even more confused. “I don’t have time to explain, but believe me, my father is a very bad man, and Emmett could be in danger. I just don’t know what I’ll do if he gets hurt because of me. Or worse.”

  “He’s in danger?” Jamey asked softly, and Clara just nodded in response. “Well, then let’s go.”

  “Alright.” Clara said, her thoughts already rushing forward towards what to do next.

  “Uh, Mrs. Latimer, would you mind giving me some privacy while I put some clothing on?” She knew for a fact his face was beet red now and she bit back a smile as she retreated into the hall, closing the door behind her. In a few short minutes, Jamey was ready, and they were both headed out to the stables to get the coach ready

  She thought she pretty much had it worked out. Emmett felt like he had to protect her, or avenge her pride, and so was going to go confront her father. But no one could confront like James Thomas, and she knew it would end up with one or both of them injured, or worse, dead.

  Less than twenty minutes later were on the road, Jamey driving the vehicle at a breakneck speed as they headed for the town.

  *

  Emmitt swung the saloon door open as he stomped in and silence fell over Birdy’s. Every face turned to look at him, but many turned away when they met the steely flint shining hard in his dark gaze. His face looked carve from granite and only a few never took their eyes off him as he made his way to the table in the back.

  He ignored the doxies that tried to catch his attention, and then only the bravest or most desperate of them did. But that wasn’t what he was here for. There in the corner sat the three men he was looking for. Their expressions were as hard as his own as he ambled over to them. He reached down and grabbed the glass of whiskey sitting in front of the man closest to him and downed it in one shot, finishing it with a gulping drink of the pint of the man on his other side.