To Redeem a Highland Rake: A Historical Scottish Romance (Heart of a Scot Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  “I dinna ken, but he’d be lucky if’n ye were.” Coburn led her to the sofa. “Sit down, lass. Yer pacin’ is makin’ me nervous.”

  “What if he’s mistaken?” She bit her lower lip as she sank onto the cushion.

  Coburn also sat and draping an arm about her shoulders, kissed her temple. “Dinna fash yerself. He must be pretty confident he’s yer father. If’n he isnae, ye’ll still always have me and Logan and Mayra.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his. She’d grown impossibly more in love with him these past months. The more time they spent together, the more she admired and respected him.

  “I know, Coburn, and I count my blessings every day that you came into my life. You rescued me just like a romantic legendary hero.”

  “Nae, ye rescued me.” He tipped her chin upward, and her gaze sank to his mouth.

  “No man has loved a woman as much as I love ye, Arieen Wallace.”

  “Although it galls me, I think I must be grateful to Robert. If he hadn’t cast me out, you’d not have felt the need to save me. We mightn’t have had a chance to love like this.” She sighed and snuggled into his side.

  Coburn made a growling sound in his throat. “I cannae think kindly on him. He’d have bartered ye like a prize horse or sow to get what he wanted.”

  “A horse or sow?” she asked incredulously whilst sitting straight and giving his arm a playful slap. “Ye are no poet, Coburn Lain Calan Wallace.”

  “I beg yer pardon.” Releasing a melodious chuckle, Coburn kissed her nose. “I meant it in the most flatterin’ way.”

  Brewster stepped inside the doorframe. “Yer guests have arrived, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace.”

  Her tummy went all warm and melty. How she loved being called Mrs. Wallace. Taking a bracing breath, Arieen stood.

  Coburn did as well before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  He’d scarcely finished giving her an encouraging smile when Donal MacDuff and his striking sons and daughters entered the salon.

  One look and Coburn whistled. “By Odin. The resemblance is uncanny.”

  Arieen gazed into two pairs of eyes much like hers, then smiled as she recognized the man from the ball who’d regarded her with such acute interest.

  A pleasant chaos reigned for several minutes as introductions, amidst hugs, smiles and tears, were managed. Her brothers were Leslie and Glen, and her sisters Arable and Donella. Leslie was the eldest at nine-and-twenty and Donella the youngest at one-and-twenty. All except Donella were married and had children.

  Finally, when everyone had calmed and they sat sipping tea and enjoying Mrs. McIntyre’s delicious shortbread, Captain MacDuff pointed at Arieen’s ruby pin.

  “May I see it, please?”

  She opened the clasp and handed the brooch to him.

  “I gave this to Osla as a token of my love. My substitute for a Luckenbooth brooch.” A melancholic smile bent his lips as he turned it over. “See here, Arieen?”

  He pointed to the backsides of the doves.

  She squinted. “I’m sorry, but without my spectacles, I cannot read small writing.”

  The captain chuckled. “Neither could yer mother, and she refused to wear her spectacles.”

  Coburn leaned in and peered at the jewel.

  “A ‘D’ is engraved on one dove,” he said, “and an ‘O’ on the other.”

  He gave Arieen a heartening, closed-lip smile.

  “I was a widower.” The captain brushed his calloused thumb over the silver doves. “I didn’t think to marry again. I met your mother at a house party given by my elder brother. I asked for her hand on four occasions, and the Earl of Lennox refused me each time. A lowly sea captain wasn’t respectable enough, you see.”

  So, her grandfather had been an earl. He’d never made any attempt to contact Arieen.

  Captain MacDuff gazed into the distance, sadness etched on his wind-weathered face. “I didn’t know she was with child when I sailed. The ship foundered, and a year passed before I limped home. I sought Osla straightaway, but all Lennox would tell me was she’d fallen in love and married in my absence.”

  “She never loved Robert Fleming.” Even as a child, Arieen had recognized that truth.

  He patted Arieen’s hand. “I didn’t know about you, Arieen. Please believe me.”

  “I do,” she said, her heart swelling with happiness.

  They visited for a short while longer, then her family took their leave amid promises to invite Arieen and Coburn to visit soon.

  Once they’d gone, she wrapped her arms around Coburn’s waist. She held him tight and tilted her head to meet his loving gaze.

  “I’m glad to know I have a family, but if I didn’t, I want you to know you are all I’ll ever need. I never knew what contentment was until I married you.”

  “And ye are everythin’ my heart has ever desired.” He winked and lowered his head. “I’m verra glad ye stole a kiss from me, my pirate lass.”

  “Aye, and I’m verra glad ye let me.”

  She opened her mouth to him, and as always, the magic of their love swept her away.

  Before you go, if you enjoyed TO REDEEM A HIGHLAND RAKE please consider leaving a review on Amazon.

  USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author, COLLETTE CAMERON pens Scottish and Regency historicals, featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them.

  Blessed with fantastic fans as well as a compulsive, over-active, and witty Muse who won’t stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she lives in Oregon with her mini-dachshunds, though she dreams of living in Scotland part-time.

  You’ll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances®.

  Her motto for life? You can’t have too much chocolate, too many hugs, too many flowers, or too many books. She’s thinking about adding shoes to that list.

  Explore Collette’s worlds! Join her VIP Reader Club and FREE newsletter. Giggles guaranteed!

  FREE 3-BOOK STARTER LIBRARY: Join Collette’s The Regency Rose® VIP Reader Club to get updates on book releases, cover reveals, contests and giveaways she reserves exclusively for email and newsletter followers. Also, any deals, sales, or special promotions are offered to club members first. She will not share your name or email, nor will she spam you.

  Follow Collette on BookBub

  Dearest Reader,

  Wasn’t Coburn and Arieen’s story fun? I bet you’re wondering how to pronounce Arieen’s name, aren’t you? I actually couldn’t find the official pronunciation, though I did search for it. In my head, I pronounced her name, Aury-een.

  I know it’s hard for readers today to comprehend the absolute control men had over women in the early 18th century. A woman without independent means had very few options available to her. Marriages were bargaining tools, and love wasn’t a factor most of the time. As tragic and awful as it was, the fact is many women turned to prostitution to support themselves and sometimes their families too.

  Logan did indeed go far outside the bounds of propriety by offering Arieen a position. Not only were secretaries male during that era, an unmarried woman of genteel birth living under the roof of an unrelated man not her guardian just wasn’t done. Not for any length of time, that is.

  I gave you a few hints about other characters you’ll see in future books in my Heart of a Scot. Remember Berget and Graeme? They’re up next in TO SEDUCE A HIGHLAND SCOUNDREL.

  Please consider telling other readers why you enjoyed this book by reviewing it on Amazon. I truly love to hear from my readers. You can contact me at my website below. I also have a fabulous VIP Reader Group on Facebook. If you’re a fan of my books and of historical romances, I’d like to invite you to join Collette’s Chéris. That link is below as well.

  Here’s wishing you many happy hours of reading, more happily-ever-afters than you can possibly enjoy in a lifetime, and abundant blessings t
o you and your loved ones.

  Connect with Collette!

  www.collettecameron.com

  Follow her on:

  Twitter @Collette_Author

  BookBub

  Facebook

  Instagram

  Amazon Author Page

  Goodreads

  Pinterest

  VIP Reader Group-Collette’s Cheris

  TO LOVE A HIGHLAND ROGUE

  Heart of a Scot, Book One

  “A lively writing style and detailed story lines are the mark of this truly excellent writer.”

  ~USA Today Bestselling Author Kathryn LeVeque

  She’s determined to end her betrothal, but he must make her his, no matter the cost.

  As an infant, Mayra Findlay’s hand was pledged in marriage to Logan Rutherford by order of the king. She’s only seen Logan once since, when they were still young children. Over the years, she’s written him several times, asking that he petition the king to end their troth, but Logan never responds. However, after a chance encounter with an irresistible rogue she can’t stop thinking about, nor stop secretly meeting, Mayra is resolute she’ll marry for love. Though it’s risky, she initiates a bold scheme that’s certain to force Logan to call off their union.

  Until Laird Logan Rutherford returned to Scotland and inherited a near-bankrupt estate, he had no intention of wedding the lass he was betrothed to as a wee lad. He’d planned to honor Mayra’s ever more demanding requests to dissolve their marriage contract, but now he must have her dowry to save his beloved Lockelieth Keep. One day, he prevents Mayra from taking a nasty tumble, and he’s immediately intrigued with the intelligent lass.

  Mayra doesn’t recognize Logan, and after she reveals her utter contempt for her betrothed, he impulsively assumes his cousin’s identity. A decision that soon has Logan snared in a tangled web of deceit, because he’s fallen in love with Mayra.

  Enjoy the first chapter of TO LOVE A HIGHLAND ROGUE

  Dunrangour Tower, Scottish Highlands

  6 September, 1701

  “Logan, my boy, ye sign here.” Artair Rutherford pointed to an empty space below his and laird Roderick Findlay’s bold, slanted signature.

  Ach, cow turds.

  Despite his frustration, Logan obediently propped his battered toy sword against the table’s leg, and after carefully dipping the quill into the inkwell, lifted his uncertain gaze to his father.

  “Me full name, Da?”

  “Aye, son.”

  “And when I do, it means I must wed her? When I’m a mon?” He pointed the quill at a wee lassie in an elaborate wooden cradle, gnawing on her wet fist.

  “Aye, lad.” Inclining his head, Da patted Logan’s shoulder, the gesture more prodding than reassuring. “She’ll be yer wife.”

  Logan sucked in his cheeks and crimped his mouth. “I dinna want to get married.”

  What need have I for a wife? Da disna have one.

  “It’s a good match. A brilliant one, truth to tell.” Bending over a little, Da peered intently into his eyes. “But more importantly, son, the union benefits Scotland.”

  Findlay, Dunrangour’s giant of a laird, snorted loud as a draft horse and shook his shaggy blond mane. “So say some.”

  Logan gulped and took a reflexive step backward.

  “Ever heard such a colossal jobby before, Fergus and Hamish?” Findlay bit out, his jaw muscles jumping.

  Such a pile of shite?

  Which part?

  The stupid match or the benefitin’ Scotland part?

  A pair of Dunrangour clansmen acting as witnesses, their flinty gazes unyielding and faces granite hard, grunted and smirked in agreement.

  “And o’ course, Mayra’s dowry—particularly the land portion—be of nae interest to ye, be it, Rutherford? But, ye cannae touch either yet, can ye? No’ until our children actually wed. And then it’ll be the lad’s to do with as he pleases, no’ yers. How that must set yer teeth on edge and stick in yer greedy craw.”

  Findlay’s low chuckle, more sinister than humorous, filled the tense silence. Satisfaction, or mayhap even gloating, tinged his words and ignited his vivid blue eyes.

  Viking eyes.

  Da said Dunrangour’s laird was descended from the barbaric Norsemen, and Logan could well believe it.

  “Asinine requirin’ me to provide half of the lass’s marriage settlement now. Reeks of extortion.” Findlay’s hefty glower encompassed Da and Mr. Hyde, the king’s agent.

  Logan scrunched his forehead and mouth, gazing between the angry laird and his gentle lady.

  Didn’t they want this troth thing either?

  As a lad, he couldn’t disobey Da’s order, but they were grown-ups. And adults could do what they wanted.

  Why didn’t they just say no then?

  Reddish brows drawn into such a severe vee they almost touched, Da glared hard at Findlay, until Logan’s tugging on his coat finally drew his father’s attention.

  “What’s a cowry, Da?”

  “Dowry.” His father’s stern features softened a wee bit. “It’s a token promisin’ ye and the lass will wed.”

  A sneer curled Findlay’s mouth as he crossed his thick arms and planted a bulging shoulder against the fireplace. “I’d call it extortion and a forced match between a wee six-year-old lad and an infant lass.”

  “Give careful thought to yer words, Findlay. Some might consider them and yer attitude treasonous. Ye wouldn’t want a hint of anythin’ untoward to reach His Majesty’s ears.” Mr. Hyde tsked disapprovingly, his eyes gone squinty and suspicious. His pointy nostrils even twitched in reproach.

  Like a giant wharf rat.

  Logan pinched his nose and pointed his face away. Reeking of dirty feet, stale sweat, and rotting teeth, the agent stank worse than Leith’s docks.

  “Go ahead, sign,” Da urged Logan. “We needs be on our way.”

  Mutiny pounded against Logan’s ribs, and he thrust out his lower lip.

  Something about this didn’t feel right—made him slightly afraid and his tummy waffy.

  Like when he awoke during the middle of the night and the castle was too quiet. Too ghostly and strange. And he lay alone in his chamber with only his sword and a carved dog for protection. Too scared to move or get up, but just as terrified to stay buried beneath the weighty bedcoverings.

  “Why do I have to marry her? Why cannae someone else?” Logan veered the fretting bairn a troubled glance, and leaning toward Da, whispered, “She’s no’ verra bonnie.”

  “Yer king asks it of ye, lad. As do I.” Da indicated where Logan should sign again.

  So he must marry a strawberry-faced, slobbering baby for a prissy king he’d never met?

  Unfair!

  Logan wasn’t supposed to swear, but he could think oaths with no one the wiser. And right now, he wanted to think whole bunches of them.

  Bloody hell. Blister and damn. God’s toenails.

  Bampot. Diddy. Scunner.

  Shite. Shite. Shite!

  What would Da do if Logan stomped his feet and hollered, “Nae,” at the top of his voice or threw the quill on the floor, mashing it beneath his foot, cursing all the while?

  If he was required to wed that red-faced bairn, shouldn’t he have something in return?

  Hmm.

  Maybe...

  “Can I have a puppy then?” Logan skewed a hopeful brow and chewed the side of his lower lip.

  He really, really wanted a puppy, but Da always stalled, saying mayhap when he was older. And older never, ever, ever came.

  Logan squared his shoulders and jutted his chin. “If’n I be old enough to become—” What was the word?—“be...trussed, then I’m old enough to have me own dog.”

  “Be-trothed,” Mr. Hyde muttered beneath his breath, stressing each syllable. “The word is Be. Trothed. And the nerve of the lad. Askin’ for a mongrel when he should be thankin’ His Majesty for the honor he’s bestowed upon the boy.”

  Mr. Hyde shook his head and tsked reproachfully
again.

  Showed what the cranky auld tosspot knew, comparing honor to a puppy. Lads didn’t play with honor. Or have it curl up in their beds and keep them warm. Or lick their giggling faces until they gasped for air.

  Logan held his breath, afraid Da would say no. Again.

  But this time Da laughed, his smile folding his face clear to the corners in amusement, and even Findlay’s lips twitched a mite.

  “Aye, ye can have yer puppy. Now sign the document. We need to depart soon if we’re to make the first lodgin’ house before nightfall.” Dad closed the dowry chest’s lid, and after securing the lock, tucked the key into his sporran.

  Logan murmured each of his five names, Logan Greer Wallace Robert Rutherford, as he laboriously wrote them, remembering to carefully shape the letters as his tutor demanded. Only the nib scritching against the crisp parchment and the bairn’s coos interrupted the eerie calm entombing the great hall.

  Once he’d finished, Mr. Hyde all but snatched the quill from Logan’s hand and proceeded to scribble his name, sprinkle sand atop the ink, and lastly, affix a fancy seal to the scarlet wax at the bottom.

  “Can I play with Coburn now, Da?”

  Beaming in a very pleased way Logan had never seen before, his father dipped his square chin.

  “As soon as ye say yer farewells and give the lass the gift ye brought, ye can play with yer cousin.”

  Logan opened his pouch, and sticking his tongue between his teeth, fished around in his sporran for the pin. He’d assumed it was a present for Lady Findlay when Da asked him to carry the heart-shaped, crown-topped token. Once he’d pulled the piece free, he turned it over and picked out a bit of fuzz—probably from his plaid—from the bright blue stone in the center.