A Highlander to Have and to Hold: Scottish Historical Romance (Brides of Scotland Book 2)
Page 10
The one holding her gave her a tight squeeze. “She had to have gotten paid. Let’s give her a good search and see if she doesn’t have something of value.” Both men cackled and her eyes widened as another scream built inside her throat.
Ewan McDonald made his way down the winding road toward Glasgow. He likely should have waited until morning, but it was an errand he didn’t want to delay. Years of working, saving, buying and selling properties had finally paid off. He’d bought a parcel of land large enough to become a laird. Granted, he didn’t have a position within the ruling class…yet. But he would. He straightened in the saddle, his jaw setting. First, however, he needed to speak with a ship captain turned laird who could help him to transport his latest harvest down to the English markets.
He was so close, he could almost taste the success he’d waited years to achieve.
A scream tore through the night, ringing in his ears. He pulled to a stop. Fer fecks sake, he had a mission. He’d been riding into the night to accomplish that goal and didn’t want to stop to help some woman who’d landed herself in trouble.
But then again, his insides pricked with discomfort at leaving her. His fist clenched around the reins of his horse as a frustrated growl tore from his lips. While he was an ambitious man, he considered himself a decent one. And despite what his father thought, Ewan had always loved his family. What if it were a woman like one of his sisters. He wouldn’t just leave one of them would he?
He slammed his fist down against his thigh. Why did he have to have morals anyhow?
Muttering several curses, he kicked his horse forward, further down the road where he’d heard the yell. He was going that direction anyhow.
Another scream, louder and longer, somehow filled with even more fear, reverberated in his ears. He spurred his horse faster when, in the dim light, he noticed three figures up ahead.
Golden hair caught the very last light of the day while two others wrestled the much smaller figure to the ground. Any doubts he might have had vanished as he watched her struggle to stay on her feet.
Ewan pulled up his horse. He couldn’t shoot, he’d risk hitting the girl. Instead, he brought out a short sword from the holster on the saddle. Swinging the weapon up in the air, he kicked his horse forward again.
His horse let out a loud whiny, excited by the action and the ne’er do wells suddenly looked up. He let out a growl of frustration as they dove away from the woman. She curled into a ball as his short sword slashed down the back of one of the men. He, in turn, spun and dragged his blade through Ewan’s thigh.
Searing pain shot through his body as he grunted. But he twisted back around anyhow, raising his sword again as the men scrambled off into the brush.
Without thinking, he jumped to the ground, and let out a small cry as pain shot through his leg.
He couldn’t follow with the horse and he doubted he’d be able to chase them with his leg in this condition. The cut had gone deep into the muscle. He stopped, looking down at his limb, blood already seeping into his breeches.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked from just behind him, her accent clearly English, lilting and flowery.
“Got a good cut on my leg. Ye?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Lay down and raise the leg up by bending your knee,” she said, scrambling about the ground.
“What’s that now lass?” He squinted his eyes watching her move about on her hands. She grabbed a basket and the several bundles from the ground.
“Lay down, please,” she replied. “You’ll bleed out if you don’t.”
He gaped at her for a moment and then did as she asked. Rocks dug into his back but she crawled over to him, raising his leg. “It’s not as bad as I feared.”
He studied his thigh. From what he could tell in the dark, the cut was deep but not long. She lifted her skirts, revealing her doe skin boots, and ripped strips from her petticoats. He wished he could get a better look at her legs, her hands, her face. Her voice had touched some spot deep inside him and he felt a deep need to see her, know the woman who had made him respond with just a sound.
“This is going to hurt,” she murmured softly, then wrapped the strips, pulling them tight about his leg.
He grunted again, pain lancing through his skin but she knew what she was doing. She’d slow the bleeding with the pressure. “Ye’re a healer?”
She gave a stiff nod. “In training.”
“Is that why ye were out on this road so late?” He lifted his head and she shrugged off her coat, balling it up and placing it under his neck. Laying his head back down, he might have sighed with relief at the velvety softness under his head.
“Yes,” she said, placing several items in the basket. “I was attending a birth.” Soft hands touched his neck, then slid down his arms. They were deliberate and soothing and he closed his eyes. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No lass, I’m fine.” He touched the back of her fingers. “Thank ye fer wrapping the wound.”
“You need more care,” she answered, continuing to touch his body, sliding her hands over his chest and down his hips. “I just have to figure out how to get you home.”
Home? The blood loss was clearly muddling his mind because he had the distinct feeling he’d like to stay right here and let her touch him all night long. When was the last time he’d allowed a woman to lay hands on him? Too long, he decided. Much too long. And her touch was the perfect combination of delicate yet firm.
The sound of hooves snapped him out of his reverie and he started to sit up, but she put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “You saved me sir, now allow me to save you. Don’t move.” She grabbed his sword and stepped behind his horse as though she planned a sneak attack. A small grin touched his lips.
What sort of woman had he just collided with?
Want to read more? A Scot to Keep
About the Author
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 eighteen, 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.
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Seeds of Love: Prequel to the Lily in Bloom series
Lily in Bloom
Midnight Magic
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Hugs!
Other Titles by Tammy
How to Reform a Rake
Don’t Tell a Duke You Love Him
Meddle in a Marquess’s Affairs
Never Trust an Errant Earl
Never Kiss an Earl at Midnight
Make a Viscount Beg
Wicked Lords of London
Earl of Sussex
My Duke’s Seduction
My Duke’s Deception
My Earl’s Entrapment
My Duke’s Desire
My Wicked Earl
Brethren of Stone
The Duke’s Scottish Lass
Scottish Devil
Wicked Laird
Kilted Sin
Rogue Scot
The Fate of a Highland Rake
A Laird to Love
Christmastide with my Captain
My Enemy, My Earl
Heart of a Highlander
A Scot’s Surrende
r
A Laird’s Seduction
Taming the Duke’s Heart
Taming a Duke’s Reckless Heart
Taming a Duke’s Wild Rose
Taming a Laird’s Wild Lady
Taming a Rake into a Lord
Taming a Savage Gentleman
Taming a Rogue Earl
Fairfield Fairy Tales
Stealing a Lady’s Heart
Hunting for a Lady’s Heart
Entrapping a Lord’s Love: Coming in February of 2018
American Historical Romance
Lily in Bloom
Midnight Magic
The Golden Rules of Love
Boxsets!!
Taming the Duke’s Heart Books 1-3
American Brides
A Laird to Love
Wicked Lords of London