Scottish Devil (Brethren of Stone Book 1) Read online

  Scottish Devil

  Tammy Andresen

  Contents

  Scottish Devil

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Wicked Laird

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  More about Tammy

  Scottish Devil

  Brethren of Stone

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  TAMMY ANDRESEN

  One family united by loss, driven to find love

  After the death of their parents, six siblings unite around their eldest brother, Stone. They consider blood a binding oath and vow to protect one another. They all must face their own demons as they find love and their places in the world.

  Other titles in this series:

  Wicked Laird

  Kilted Sin

  Highland Rake

  Rogue Scot

  A Duke’s Scottish Lass

  Chapter One

  Perth, Scotland 1780

  Fire and Brimstone…that is what the locals called him. It was their way of referring to him as the devil. Let them fear him, he cared not. Stone Sinclair’s eyes slashed through the crowd daring one of them to say it here and now.

  He squared his shoulders and his neck made a cracking noise, causing several women to look fearfully at him. Utterly ridiculous. He knew that his scowling façade and his penchant for silence frightened some, as had his father’s, but they’d never been anything but responsible overlords. They were making these lands prosperous for all who lived here.

  His parents died while attempting to rescue miners from a collapsed mineshaft. If those actions didn’t speak to the kindness in their hearts, Stone didn’t know what else could. He supposed it did in its own way. It was the reason so many now stood at their funeral. Though his more cynical side told him it was their twisted desire to ogle his family and hunt for any misstep that might confirm in their minds that they were devils.

  He could make out the occasional word, though he kept his eyes on the large stone that marked his parents’ grave. His five brothers stood in a line by birth order on his right side. And his sister, Delia, only five years old, held his hand on the left.

  It was her little fingers tugging on his that finally cast his gaze down, instead of forward. “Stone,” she whispered.

  “Aye, my little lamb?” His heart constricted every time he looked into those luminous blue eyes. What she had lost was so much more painful than what had been taken from him. He’d had their parents for the first twenty-four years of his life. But a little girl should grow up with her mother.

  “When are Mama and Papa coming home?”

  She’d asked the same question several times and he’d given her his best answer each and every time. “They won’t come home, I am afraid. But it doesn’t mean that they won’t keep loving ye.”

  Her eyes swelled with tears and, thoughtless to the onlookers, he swung her up into his arms. He heard a gasp from someone in the crowd and he narrowed his eyes, searching for the offender? Did they expect him to eat his own sister alive? Bloody hell, they thought him the devil but how they fed off his grief. These people seemed to garner joy from hearsay and rumors about his family rather than acknowledge their accomplishments and care.

  He looked over the crowd again, his breath rumbling deep in his chest. All these people had attended the wake. Ate his food and drank his wine. The wine only made them bolder in their derision.

  This was one of the reasons he wished he didn’t have to take his father’s title. To be earl of the realm, responsible for this ungrateful lot, made his blood boil.

  Handing Delia to his brother, Blair, he stepped up to the graves and carefully laid both dirt and salt on each. Standing once again, he returned to his siblings and took Delia’s hand as they left the Kirkyard.

  He didn’t look back at the crowd, his own disgust making his shoulders hard, his body tense. He longed for the solitude of his home, to close the doors and find solace in quiet grief.

  But as they walked to the gates, a carriage sat just outside.

  “Who goes there?” he boomed, sadness and irritation making it sharp. He heard several titters from behind him in the crowd that followed. Vultures.

  A well-dressed, graceful man stepped out, his posture upright. He nodded his head slightly, the silver streaking his dark hair catching the sun’s rays. “My lord.”

  His father’s solicitor’s voice, always pleasant to the ear, soothed Stone now. Though Stone supposed that Allister McLaren was now his solicitor.

  “Good to see ye.” Stone’s tone changed instantly, softened, mellowed. This man had been a friend to his family since he’d been a child. Stone walked the rest of the way up the drive, the procession behind him continuing toward the village just beyond.

  “I apologize for not arriving in time for the burial. We’ve had our own circumstances to tend.” Allister’s face pinched in a way that Stone had never seen.

  “Circumstances?” he asked. He knew they must be serious for Allister to have not been here. He’d long been a faithful friend.

  Allister’s brow drew together. “I have lost my wife, I am afraid.” Pain hunched the man’s shoulders.

  “I am verra sorry fer yer loss.” Stone clapped the man on the shoulder.

  Allister shook his head. “Thank ye, son. It’s been difficult fer both of us.”

  Stone noted that Allister said us. He’d used we before.

  A motion at the door of the carriage caught his eye and he snapped his gaze up, as Allister reached out his hand.

  He first noted her fingers, the creamy skin and long, tapered digits gently grasped Allister’s. He let his eyes wander up the slender-sleeved arm to the delicate curve of her shoulder and thin column of her neck. Tendrils of blonde hair had been loosely pulled away from her face. And what a face. Delicate petal-pink lips set off by the ivory of her skin. Her pert little nose wrinkled ever so slightly as his gaze snapped to her large brown eyes.

  “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Eliza.” Allister gestured toward her as she stepped from the carriage.

  She looked back at him and her eyes narrowed as her lips pressed in disapproval. He was used to the reaction. “A pleasure,” she replied, her tone devoid of emotion.

  “Eliza, this is Lord Alban.” Allister tucked his daughter’s hand into his elbow.

  Stone gave a nod of acknowledgement. “The pleasure is mine,” he said, even as her eyes cast away from his.

  When he was younger, he’d stared at his reflection in the loch trying to understand why people responded so adversely to him. He wasn’t hideous and he prided himself on being fair, responsible, even level-headed. He rarely lost his temper.

  His mother had told him that he had a look of hardness. She didn’t mean it with any malice. She said his father had the same look and it made people wary, afraid. She’d held him close and told him that once people got to know him, they’d see the real man underneath. Just like she had with his father.

  He loved his mother dearly, but that was complete horseshit.

  Eliza took a steadying breath. How did one greet the devil?

  Very carefully.

  He looked exactly as she’d imagined.
Like Aries, the God of War, might have. He was a massive man, with giant shoulders and bulging muscles. His face was set in hard, craggy lines that spoke of power and determination. The severe scowl that turned down his lips and pulled at his brow was almost frightening. The only features that softened him at all were his penetrating blue eyes and full curve of his mouth.

  She looked away, not able to stare at them any longer and found that her stomach tingled with nerves. There was something unsettling about him. Most likely his devilish ways.

  Though her father swore he was a good man, she couldn’t help but lend some credence to the multitude of rumors that swirled about this family. Or more particularly, the new Lord Alban.

  They accused him of being a cruel, hard man. That he worked his tenants to death. He allowed no grievances to be brought before him. He never allowed his colliers freedom from their servitude to him. Her blood boiled to think of such injustices. She suspected the rumor she’d heard in the village that claimed he would take the families’ firstborns to be an exaggeration but now that she’d seen the man, he certainly looked like he could be guilty of the crime. Harsh, she knew, and probably wrong but…

  The former Lord Alban was her father’s single largest client, and his support of her father gave them a life that was beyond comfort, a fact that her father reminded her of as they travelled to this meeting. “You will not be rude, young lady,” had been his exact words.

  She’d held in her huff. Her father wasn’t a soft man himself. He often forced his will upon them all. Since she was a child, she’d only been allowed the friends he approved of, the lessons he saw fit. She’d wanted to learn archery but he’d refused, saying it wasn’t ladylike. And this trip, she hadn’t wanted to come. Eliza resented having to travel for business so soon after her mother’s death. It had been a three-day journey to come from their home in Perth to Lord Alban’s highland estate in Glencoe. But her father’s will had been iron.

  As if that weren’t enough, the closer they got to their destination, the more people talked of the notorious earl. He was dark, dreary, and dreadful. And while his father had made this land prosperous, they were certain the son would cast them into ruin.

  “Did ye see his glower? A more dour man has never walked the earth,” one shopkeeper had said.

  “He’s spoiled and mean,” another had added. “I heard that he refused to let the farmers air their grievances when they were shorted money by the mills.” The older woman leaned closer. “Kept the money for himself, I’d wager.”

  The other woman had humphed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I heard that he didn’t even have a proper wake. Removed the mourners from his home. Just didn’t want to feed ‘em, likely as not. A disgrace.”

  Eliza had gasped into her glove. This was the man she had left mourning to attend? The rumors had only grown worse the closer they had gotten until she was near livid on behalf of the people here.

  “Let’s all make ourselves more comfortable inside.” Lord Alban pointed through the open gate to the large double doors beyond. “Ye must be tired after yer journey and it has been a trying day for us.”

  “My mum and da are never coming back,” a little girl spoke next to Lord Alban and, for the first time, Eliza looked beyond him to the others around him.

  She swallowed hard. The grief on their faces was far more palpable than Lord Alban’s and some of the younger boys wiped tears from their eyes still. Her heart ached for them, having just experienced a loss akin to theirs.

  A few had dark skin and hair like Lord Alban, but some were fair and she wondered if they all were his siblings or relations of another kind. They clearly didn’t live in the village or they would have travelled on with the rest of the mourners.

  Lord Alban reached down and picked up the girl, who wrapped her arms and legs about him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I ken, lamb,” he said.

  His voice was completely different, near soothing. Her insides fluttered again and she cocked her head to the side. Surely it wasn’t fear motivating her feelings now. But what emotion would cause such a reaction to his voice if she wasn’t frightened?

  A lump formed in Eliza’s throat, her empathy for the child making it difficult to hold back tears. The girl looked like a little angel. Her long blonde hair cascaded down the dark rough skin of his arm.

  “Who will take care of me?” the little girl asked.

  “I will, of course,” he soothed. Then his eyes focused back on her and her father. She nearly jumped as their dark blue piecing depths collided with hers. Fringed with dark lashes that accentuated the color, she found herself unable to look away. “Shall we?”

  He didn’t wait for a response before he strode past them, still holding the child. Eliza attempted not to huff her breath. How rude. She knew she should make allowances because he was fresh into mourning but it was difficult after all she’d heard. And she mustn’t forget, no matter how sweet he had just appeared, she was dealing with the devil.

  Chapter Two

  Stone led the way into the house and into a sitting room where refreshments had already been laid out.

  He was mildly amazed they still had food to share. The mourners having nearly eaten them out of house and home.

  Not bothering with the food, he crossed to the decanter of whisky that sat on its own table. He reached for a glass, poured himself a large snifter, and tossed the drink back in a single gulp. As he turned Allister’s daughter give him a look of disapproval, her lovely pink lips turning down at the corners.

  His eyes narrowed and he poured another whisky, chasing down the first. Let the little chit judge. He cared not. Had she buried both of her parents today? Did she find herself to be head of a family and of the surrounding land? Thousands of people depending on her for their very survival?

  Damnation, he normally didn’t let people bother him so. Surely the day’s emotional turmoil had to be the reason for his unwarranted reaction.

  After setting the glass back down, he waved and signaled for his siblings to line up. “Eliza,” as he said her name, she nearly jumped. Another ripple of irritation passed through him. “I’d like to introduce you to my siblings. This is Blair.” He pointed to his next oldest brother, “William. The twins are Matthew and Roderick. And then our little sister, Delia.” He poured himself yet another glass of whisky. “On behalf of our family, we’d like to extend our condolences for your loss.”

  Eliza gave a stiff nod. “And to ye as well.”

  “If ye’ll forgive us for dispensing with any more formalities, I think we’d all like to eat.” He gestured toward the food. “Please feel free to join us.”

  “Thank ye,” she said, but he ignored it, tipping his glass to his lips.

  He heard her huff then. A little sound of disapproval. He dropped his glass back down and glared at her. It had been one of the worst days of his life and he’d endured enough judgment already. He wouldn’t tolerate it in his own home. But as she opened his mouth to speak, Allister stepped forward.

  “Thank ye fer yer kindness.” He gave a pointed look back at his daughter. “Refreshments sound lovely.”

  Both Allister and his daughter followed his siblings to the buffet of food. As the whisky blazed a trail to his stomach, he couldn’t help but note that his new guest was lovely. Granted she was no better than any of those other letches who had tittered behind their hands at his parents’ funeral, but she was stunning. Her dress cinched at her waist, her curves waiting for a man’s hand.

  He gave his head a shake to clear it. He didn’t involve himself with pretty chits who gave him disapproving glares. His mind was surely muddled. A good ride along the sea path, or a swim in the loch would clear his head. Though early in the year for swimming, the cold water might shock him back to normalcy.

  He tossed himself into a chair and covered his face with his arm. With Allister here, perhaps the other man could help him with some of the duties so that he might take some time and grieve, perhaps learn his new place in this world.<
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  But for now, he needed some solitude. “Allister, thank ye again for comin’. We can talk more tomorrow, but if ye’ll excuse me.” He didn’t bother with an explanation. He assumed it was understood. He simply rose and left.

  Eliza watched him go and tried to refrain from huffing again. Her father wouldn’t approve. The man didn’t seem to have a soft bone in his body. She guessed Stone Alban was truly a fitting name. A lord of is stature should have stayed to entertain his guests.

  She had near crossed the country, despite being in mourning, so that her father could help them sort their affairs. She supposed she hadn’t been required to come, but her father had near insisted. With her mother gone, the home that had once been filled with love and laughter now echoed with sorrow and loss. She couldn’t stay in that house alone. Her mother had passed a month ago and it still didn’t feel the same as it had before. It used to be her home.

  Much had changed in the past month. She’d changed. Eliza understood much about the world she hadn’t her first twenty years of life, how unjust it could be, how unfair.

  And she knew what it meant to be without her mother. A sadness had filled her, sapping the life out of her. She was angry, yes, but with no desire to do a thing about it. It still took her breath away and that grief made her darker than she’d been before.

  She nibbled at the food on her plate but her legs were restless after hours in the carriage. Taking a deep breath, she realized it had been weeks since she’d felt this sort of energy. Finally, she turned to her father. “Is it all right if I take a walk?” Even from this room, hints of the river that bent around the castle peaked through the windows.