Never Tempt a Scot

by Lauren Smith

  He got up and came over to Brodie. “Ah, Mr. Kincade, is it?”

  Now this was ridiculous. The butler’s ignorance he could understand, but this? He was about to vent his frustrations when Mr. Hunt spoke again.

  “I believe I met some of your relations during my recent trip to Scotland. Lovely people. Most accommodating.”

  “Mr. Hunt, I do not ken why you are—”

  Again, he was interrupted. “You see, I recently met the most wonderful woman, and we decided to get married in Scotland. A hasty thing, to be certain, but we both felt we’d waited long enough to find happiness again. We brought my daughters along with us. My eldest, Lydia, was already friends with my wife’s family, and it would have been wrong not to include her. We stayed at your family’s castle overnight on the way back. Your elder brother was most welcoming.”

  Brodie still had no clue what game Hunt was playing, but noting the sidelong glance Lydia’s father gave to the old man reading the document, he decided to play along. “Sorry I missed you while you visited my brother. I was there recently myself.”

  “I’ve been informed that you met my eldest daughter once. Is that true?” he asked pointedly.

  It then dawned on Brodie what was going on, at least in part.

  “I . . . Yes. Briefly, at a ball held here in Bath. I was most taken with her. It is because of her that I have come to speak to you.”

  The man behind them in the chair who was reviewing the document Hunt had handed him glanced up at them both, clearly a willing audience for the charade that Hunt had concocted to protect Lydia’s reputation from scandal. It was rather clever.

  Mr. Hunt smiled at that and nodded in approval. “I see. Am I to understand that you would like to court my daughter?”

  Brodie smiled back. “Aye. But of course, I wish to have your permission first.”

  The old man, satisfied with what he had read, set the document down on the desk and got up. “I see no problems with your terms, Mr. Hunt. My client will be most pleased. Now, will I be seeing you at the assembly room tonight? My granddaughter is debuting.”

  “I believe I will be there, yes. It will be a pleasure to see her again.”

  The door opened, and the butler led the man away. Once the door shut, Hunt’s tone changed. “I understand why you did what you did at the castle, Mr. Kincade. Had our roles been reversed, I hope I would have made the same choice. But I need to understand why you’re here now. We’re alone—you can speak plainly.”

  “I wish to marry your daughter. I didna think I could, not after what happened between us. I ken that I ruined your daughter, but I wish to make things right.”

  “Make things right?” Hunt echoed the words with emphasis. “Haven’t you heard? We’ve only just returned to town, and my daughter was with us the whole time.”

  “But surely word of what happened—”

  “I think you underestimate my wife’s ability to turn gossiping tongues against themselves. Even before she left Bath, she had her daughter establishing a story as to Lydia’s whereabouts. One that only required slight clarification upon our return.”

  Brodie shouldn’t have been surprised, but he’d secretly hoped that he would have had Lydia’s ruination to help his cause for marrying her.

  “I’m pleased to hear about your marriage,” Brodie replied carefully, wondering what Hunt wanted him to say.

  “I’ve been examining my role as Lydia’s father of late, and I have found that I have been a terrible disappointment. I will not, therefore, be allowing just any gentleman to court my daughter. Any man who wishes to have that honor must therefore have only the purest of intentions toward her.”

  “I have the purest of intentions,” Brodie assured him. His voice then roughened a little from a sudden rush of emotion. “I love her more than my own life, more than anything else.”

  “And if you love her enough to let her go, would you?” Hunt asked.

  He kept his chin held high. “I already did. But now I realize that loving her the way she deserves means coming after her. I wanted to spare her the pain of seeing one of us hurt, or worse, but I didna give her the chance to tell me what she wants. Would you agree that she ought to make that choice?”

  Lydia’s father stroked his chin. “And if she does choose you?”

  “I will honor and cherish her. I willna ever hurt her again.”

  “And how am I supposed to trust you?”

  Brodie reached down to his boot and pulled out a small sgian-dubh blade and held it out hilt-first to Hunt.

  “Then trust my word over this blade. It was a gift from my mother. This blade has been with me through the dark days and the days of splendor. I vow upon the steel of this blade that no harm shall ever come to Lydia at my hand, word or deed.”

  Hunt gazed upon the blade for a time before he nodded and gestured for Brodie to put it away.

  “Very well, you have my permission to court her. But you will say nothing of her trip to Scotland with you. I expect you to agree to whatever my wife says with regard to how you know my daughter and where she’s been of late. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then present yourself at the assembly rooms tonight. My family will be there. You may make your intentions known to her then, and we will both abide by her decision.” He held out his hand to Brodie. “I shall see you this evening.”

  Brodie shook Hunt’s hand and took his leave. He would be counting the minutes until he could see her again and hopefully win her back. It would be the most important battle of his life.

  Lydia stood in one of the assembly rooms of Bath, watching the couples twirl in a lovely pattern. Lysandra was talking beside her, but the words floated past Lydia rather than through her. Since she’d left Scotland, she hadn’t been herself. She had been more subdued, listless, and she’d had quite a bit of difficulty focusing on what people said to her. Her mind was far away, and her heart was with it.

  Lysandra gently nudged her elbow. “Lydia? Are you all right?”

  “What? Oh yes, I’m sorry,” Lydia apologized. It had been such a whirlwind returning to Bath and meeting the rest of the Russell family so they could hear the news of the hasty marriage uniting the Russells and the Hunts. But the news had been well received by the Russell brood, even if they had been quite surprised at it. She had become a sister to all the Russells overnight, as had Portia. Jane had come up with a clever lie to cover any scandal, and not one word was breathed of Lydia’s sudden disappearance from Bath.

  Portia had taken the news well, but something was bothering her, and she would not confide to Lydia what it was. She’d simply withdrawn from everything and everyone. Everyone except Isla. The orphan had taken to Portia in a way that had surprised everyone. She’d crawled into Portia’s lap and handed her doll to Portia to try to make her feel better, and the two had quickly bonded.

  Even now, much to Lydia’s continued amazement, Portia had passed on the chance to dance and meet eligible men. She had remained at home, caring for Isla so the child would not be lonely.

  Lydia’s life had change drastically since returning from Scotland. Her father was no longer so accommodating and tolerant with Portia, and Lydia, who had been so often overlooked, was now consulted frequently by her doting stepmother. It was going to take some getting used to. She rather felt like Cinderella. But all the good changes in her life didn’t make a difference when she thought of Brodie and how brokenhearted she was. Fanny had settled in working as a lady’s maid for Portia and the two had struck up an unlikely friendship.

  “Lydia,” Lysandra murmured. “You look very pale. Perhaps we should go home. I’ll tell Mama and Mr. Hunt.”

  “Yes, perhaps that’s a good idea,” Lydia agreed. Lysandra left her alone to go seek out their parents, who were on the opposite end of the room.

  The current dance ended, and Lydia watched the couples disperse. As they did, she looked across the room and, her heart jolted at the sight of a man in a dark-blue coat an
d tan breeches who was watching her. He was beautiful in a wild, untamed way. His dark hair was tousled and his gray-blue eyes were turbulent. Lydia dared not let her heart fill with hope again, yet she could not look away as he crossed the room toward her.

  He stopped within arm’s reach and made an elegant bow.

  “Miss Hunt, would you do me the honor of a dance? If you have any available?” Brodie spoke so gently, so earnestly, that she wasn’t quite sure it was him and not some kind of daydream.

  “I . . .”

  “I’d prefer a waltz, lass, to better hold you in my arms.”

  Now she knew she had to be dreaming.

  “A waltz?” she echoed as he took her wrist and examined her card. He made a soft tsking noise as he saw she had no dances yet claimed. He took the pencil attached to her card and wrote his name down on every line for every dance. Then he held her hands for everyone to see.

  “Lydia, lass. I wish to claim every dance for the rest of our lives.” He stepped closer. “What do you say? Will you give me that honor?”

  “Every dance for the rest of our lives?” Was this truly happening?

  “I daresay the poor Scot is trying to propose,” a familiar voice said nearby.

  Lydia spotted Rafe not too far away, watching them with amusement, a puckish smile hovering on his lips. She turned back to Brodie.

  “Are you?” she asked, her entire body starting to tremble.

  “Aye, lass. In my own way, I am.” He put an arm around her waist, and several gasps from nearby matronly ladies made Lydia’s face burn with mortification.

  “Oi, you lot can stop your bloody gasping,” Rafe growled, making their turbans quiver.

  “Well put, Mr. Lennox,” Jane said as she and Mr. Hunt approached them. Jane fixed the matrons with a withering glare. “Mr. Kincade and my stepdaughter have been secretly betrothed for a year. He’s merely reaffirming their pledge, aren’t you, Mr. Kincade?” Jane lied so smoothly that even Lydia believed her.

  “I am,” Brodie agreed, and he met Lydia’s gaze. “What do you say? Have pity on a man who loves you fiercely. Tell me you’ll be my wife, my love, my everything, lass.”

  Lydia glanced hastily at her father, who did not look entirely pleased, but he also didn’t object. He gave her a small nod instead, while still scowling a little at Brodie.

  “You truly love me?” she challenged Brodie, matching his quiet tone as another dance started up behind him.

  “Aye, far too much to be wise. I love you blindly, madly.”

  Lydia’s throat tightened as she tried to calm her racing heart. “When did you know?”

  “That I loved you?”

  She nodded.

  “That first night I carried you away in my arms. I couldna hate you, even when I thought you were your sister. You enchanted me, lass. And in time, you showed me I wasna a broken man.”

  Brodie squeezed her hands, and she saw the adoration in his eyes.

  “So long as you love me, lass, I will fight the world to keep you.”

  Lydia squeezed Brodie’s hands back. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” His eyes gleamed with excitement as she nodded again. “Then dance with me.”

  Brodie swept her onto the floor, and they danced throughout the evening. The master of ceremonies had to turn a blind eye to the succession of dances after Jane frowned at him quite sternly.

  Word of Lydia’s secret engagement to Brodie took Bath by storm that night, but Lydia didn’t care at all. The only thing that mattered was that she was dancing with the man she loved, and they would go on dancing together the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  A Scottish wedding was always a magical event. Lydia entered the old stone kirk on Castle Kincade lands. She clung to her father’s arm as he walked her to Brodie, who stood proudly at the altar, his plaid kilt showing off his legs in a way that made her blush. Her father paused at the front of the church with her, and the two men shared a look of understanding before Brodie nodded at him.

  Her father kissed Lydia’s cheek, and she blinked away tears as she joined Brodie before the altar. The ceremony was a blur of smiles and happy tears for Lydia as she spoke her wedding vows. She only had eyes for Brodie.

  When it was over, they gathered in the kirkyard with their friends. In that moment, Lydia felt as though she could ask for nothing more of the world. She had a family who loved her and a Scottish rogue who worshipped her. It was as though every dream she had buried in her heart had been brought back out into the light.

  Brodie curled an arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Happy, my love?”

  She gave him a smile that could barely contain her bursting happiness. “I don’t think it’s possible to measure my happiness,” she confessed.

  Brodie turned her fully to face him as he cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “My love for you rivals the depths of the seas and extends beyond the stars themselves.”

  It never ceased to amaze her how much he had changed in the weeks leading up to their wedding. He’d become a happier man, a true romantic, and yet he was still that same wicked rakehell in their stolen moments together. The ghosts that haunted him from his past were starting to fade, leaving behind a man who enjoyed life.

  Lydia curled her fingers into his cravat and pulled his head down to hers to steal a kiss.

  “Dance with me tonight?” he asked.

  “Where?” Lydia giggled.

  “Anywhere.” His eyes smoldered as he added, “How about our bedchamber? I would love to see you dance like I did that night in the inn, for me and me alone.”

  Lydia grinned. “Will it tempt you, my darling Scot?”

  “Aye. Always.”

  Rafe watched Brodie and Lydia whisper to each other in the kirkyard. He wasn’t one to applaud marriage as a rule, but in Brodie’s case, the man sorely needed it.

  “Papa?” Isla’s voice broke into his thoughts. Isla stood next to him, wearing a pale-blue satin gown with an orange sash tied into a bow at her back. Her hair was only partially pulled back by ribbons. She’d been overjoyed to attend the wedding in the fine new clothes that he’d purchased for her.

  He took her small hand in his. “Yes, kitten?”

  “Can I truly call you Papa?” Isla asked. It was perhaps the tenth time this week she’d asked that same question.

  Rafe had spoken to Lydia and Brodie two weeks before and had asked them if he might take the child as his ward. It had surprised them, and they had raised concerns about why a single gentleman who’d never been married would want to raise a little girl. He had replied that he had plenty of interfering relations who would no doubt be more than happy to help him do the thing properly. They ultimately agreed, so long as Isla wished for it too. And she had.

  “Yes, Isla, you may call me Papa. Or Uncle Rafe. Whatever you prefer.”

  Isla swung his hand back and forth in hers as she seemed to think it over. “I want you to be my papa, but I already have one.”

  Rafe turned and knelt before the little girl. “You may have another papa. Just as Lydia now has a new mama. You will always have your first papa and mama.” His inexplicable connection to the child was soul deep, and he had a strange feeling that Isla’s parents, wherever they were, were watching over him. He didn’t want to let them or Isla down. For the first time in his life, someone depended on him. It was unsettling, but also exciting.

  “Oh, Rafe, there you are.” Ashton and Rosalind joined them in the kirkyard. Rosalind took Isla by the hand and led her away to admire the wildflowers growing at the edges of the yard.

  “How fares the child?” Ashton asked.

  “Well enough. She misses her parents.” Rafe followed the child with his gaze, wanting to make sure she was safe and well.

  Ashton stroked his chin, and Rafe could feel his older brother’s gaze upon him. “Rafe, are you certain you can care for this child? I’m happy to set aside a trust with plenty of funds for her, if you’d like.”

  “N
o, I will not take money, Ash.”

  “Well, that’s a first,” his older brother mused. “But if you need it, I will give it. I must admit, I’ve seen quite a difference in you these last few weeks. Dare I say you’re leaving your rakehell ways behind?”

  Rafe chuckled. “I prefer to think that I’m redirecting my focus in life. Keeping that girl entertained can be a challenge. But I may have a bit of devilry left in me yet.”

  Ashton laughed. “So long as you keep it far from that child, you’ll be fine.”

  “I promise nothing,” Rafe said with a smirk. “Other than to vow to never see her hurt.”

  “What is it about her that draws you?” Ashton asked. “She is a lovely child, of course, but you’ve never shown interest in children before. They used to terrify you.”

  “They’ve never terrified me,” Rafe protested. “I simply . . . have trouble relating to them.”

  “And what makes her different?”

  Rafe smiled as Isla gathered a bouquet of flowers and presented them to Rosalind.

  “She’s thoughtful and wise for a child. She thinks of others more than herself, despite her hardships. Doesn’t a child like that deserve to enjoy life? And who knows more about enjoying life than your dearest brother?”

  Ashton smiled, but it was one that betrayed his doubts. “Yes, who indeed?”

  Two months later

  Aiden stared out at the cliffside landscape that draped into the sea off the coast of North Berwick. He urged his horse to race down the coastline, feeling free for the first time in days. He had left Castle Kincade to allow Brock and Joanna some time alone, and he had agreed to meet Lydia and Brodie as they returned from their honeymoon on the Continent.

  He was bound for the distant docks of North Berwick. He would likely have to wait a few days, perhaps a week if the ship carrying his brother and sister-in-law was delayed, but he was glad for the time alone.