A Scot to Keep: Scottish Historical Romance (Brides of Scotland Book 3)

  A Scot to Keep

  Brides of Scotland

  Tammy Andresen

  Swift Romance Publishing Corp

  Copyright © 2020 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  A Laird to Remember

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

  Chapter One

  Lily stood at the sink basin near the door, washing her hands. Soft cooing noises emitted from the bed and she glanced up to see mother and child snuggled together as Mr. McGreevy, one of their croft farmers and father of the baby, leaned close to his wife, cooing back at the child.

  Joy lit up both their faces as they stared down at the bundle. She dropped her head, wanting to give them some measure of privacy. But she grinned despite herself. When births went right, they were her favorite practice.

  The midwife came to stand next to her, also washing her hands. “Ye’re doing fine, Lady Lily. Soon ye’ll be ready to take on a birth on yer own.”

  Lily swallowed down her protest. A year ago, she hadn’t learned any medical skills. She’d been a scared woman at the world’s mercy. Her salvation had been learning to care for others. It meant that in the event she lost everything again, she had a means to care for herself. “Thank you,” she answered, removing her hands from the bowl and drying them on a nearby towel. “For everything.”

  The older woman smiled, showing a missing tooth. “Thank ye fer being such an apt student.”

  Lily nodded. Her father had passed eighteen months prior and for nearly six of those months, her and her sisters’ positions had grown incrementally worse. They’d been forced into the care of an estranged cousin who eventually tossed them out to fend for themselves. Her stomach clenched at the memory. They’d holed up in a seedy inn until her eldest sister, Rose, had managed to find a ship captain willing to bring them to Scotland to reunite with their aunt.

  Rose had fallen in love with Captain MacFarland and they’d married.

  Lily sighed. While Rose seemed to have their life well in hand, Lily still felt compelled to prepare for the worst. She’d only starve once in her life.

  “It’s very satisfying to help people when they most need it,” Lily answered. “I quite enjoy the work.” That was the absolute truth. Her brother-in-law had lifted them out of darkness when they’d needed it most. She would be forever grateful and her new vocation filled her with joy, knowing she could help others.

  Clarissa nodded. “Why don’t ye head on home, lass? Darkness is falling and the road has been plagued with thieves of late.”

  “Yes, good idea,” Lily answered, her stomach fluttering. The croft was on the outskirts of their lands. The road formed the southern border of their property. Colin, Rose’s husband, had spent several nights camped out, attempting to catch whomever used their patch of road for nefarious purposes, but so far, he’d been unsuccessful.

  Tossing on her dark cloak, Lily gave the new family one last smile before she slipped out the door. At least in the waning light, the cloak would hide her from view.

  She made her way quickly down the dirt road, her basket of supplies swinging next to her. It held the herbs she’d collected, dried, and crushed for different medicinal uses.

  The road grew darker as the sunlight completely disappeared beyond the horizon and she moved faster still, near at a run as she made her way to her sister’s house.

  Her family had arrived in Scotland to learn their estranged aunt had also passed away. She, however, had left Rose her estate and surrounding lands. Lily mostly loved their new life in Scotland. She was useful here, the land was beautiful, the people open and honest. But the daily life was rougher too and she felt that now. Fear prickled along her skin as she heard a distinct noise from the brush.

  Was it an animal? The wind? Her imagination? Her heart hammered in her chest as she considered the far more sinister options. Could it be the band of thieves? She stopped walking, turning her face to the side within her hood. The heavy fabric covered her golden hair, but it also deadened the sound.

  No other noise came from the brush and she took a slow step forward once again. Her basket gave a decided creak and she winced, holding her breath.

  For a moment, she heard nothing, and then a crunch in the gravel behind her. She spun about, but before she could see anything, strong arms wrapped about her chest. A scream ripped from her mouth just before a hand, stinking of dirt and sweat, covered her mouth and nose. Lily gagged from the stench.

  “Hold still and ye’ll be fine,” a man hissed in her ear.

  Another thief stepped out in front of her. He too wore a cloak; in the darkness, she could see no part of his face, but he ripped the basket out of her hand, opened the lid, and rummaged through the contents.

  Fear trickled down her spine making her breathing short and erratic as he tossed several carefully bundled herbs to the ground. “She’s a healer. There’s nothing of value in here.”

  The one holding her gave her a tight squeeze. “She had to ‘ave gotten paid. Let’s give her a good search and see if she don’t ‘ave 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 set. 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.

  A scream tore through the night, ringing in his ears. He pulled to a stop. Fer feck’s 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. He’d like to conduct his own business uninterrupted, but he had sisters and if this were one of them? His gut churned as he pulled up his horse. Why did he have to have morals anyhow?

  Groaning with frustration, he made his decision and kicked his horse forward, toward the spot 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 f
rom the holster on the saddle. Swinging the weapon up in the air, he kicked his horse forward again.

  His horse let out a loud whinny, excited by the action and the ne’er-do-wells suddenly looked up. He let out a growl of frustration as they dived away from the woman. She curled down into a ball as his short sword slashed down the back of one of the men. The man, in turn, spun and dragged his blade through Ewan’s thigh.

  Searing pain shot through his body as he grunted. But he spun back 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 me 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 and knees. 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 and 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.

  “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?

  Chapter Two

  Lily stood, pulling her dark cloak back over her head and perched behind the horse. She knew whoever was coming would be stronger and more capable than her. Surprise was her only advantage.

  Fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t naturally brave like her sister, Daisy. Her muscles still trembled from the attack and she wasn’t certain she’d be effective in fending off the approaching rider. But this man couldn’t rise and defend her, it wasn’t safe for him and she couldn’t ask that.

  She raised her shaking hands, drawing in a deep breath when a hand grasped around both of hers and the sword. “I’ve been hurt worse, lass. Stand behind me, or better yet, hide in the brush.”

  Lily shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already been hurt defending me. I…”

  He squeezed her hands. “It’s all right. No time to discuss it now. Go.”

  She didn’t hesitate again as she pulled the cloak tighter and scrambled for the brush on the side of the road. If he survived, Lily would have to figure out how to repay this man for his kindness.

  The horse slowed. “Who goes there?” a voice boomed out from the back of the steed.

  Colin. She scrambled out from under the bush again as her savior answered. “Ewan McDonald. Who are ye?”

  “Colin,” she gasped. “It’s all right.” She scrambled up the small bank, pulling her hood back.

  “Lily?” he yelled, swinging from the back of his horse. “What are ye doing out this late?”

  She swallowed. “I was helping with the birth of the McGreevy babe.”

  “Ye were birthing a bairn?” Ewan turned to look at her, the baritone timber of his voice vibrating through her. She’d felt the man’s body. Solid muscle had slid under her hands. Now, as she came to stand next to him, she could see he was tall, much taller than her and so very broad in his shoulders.

  “And who is he?” Colin came around the horse, standing just in front of them with his arms crossed.

  Lily pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “He saved me from the bandits.”

  “Lily,” Colin’s voice dropped low, fear making it craggy. “Ye shouldna be out this late with bandits about. When I think about what could have happened…”

  She swallowed, wincing. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry to both of you.” She stepped forward. “He’s injured Colin. We need to bring him back to the house so I can properly tend him.”

  “For feck’s sake,” Colin rumbled under his breath. “I missed the bandits again and now—”

  Lily held up her hands. She stepped up next to Ewan, feeling his heat even through her cloak. “Colin. Please. Hurry.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Of course.” Then he looked to Ewan. “Can ye ride?”

  Ewan nodded. “I can. In fact, I can probably just be on me way to Glasgow. I must be close and I’ve no intention of imposing—”

  “You’re not imposing,” Lily answered. “Right, Colin?”

  Ewan sucked in his breath, very aware of the woman next to him. Which was strange. He didn’t even know what she looked like, not really. It was too dark. But her hands, her voice, they had been…soothing. Exciting.

  And quite likely married. These two clearly had a close relationship and this woman had a sway over the man. His shoulders sagged a bit, but then he straightened. He had a job to do anyway—more of a life mission—and dalliances with women were a distraction. He’d get married, of course, but to a woman who furthered his ambitions.

  His parents had married for love. He supposed they’d been happy in their own way, but they’d also been dirt-poor, renting a croft that barely sustained them. He’d made a promise to himself he’d get more out of life than what his parents had and he’d been successful beyond his wildest imaginings.

  And he’d lifted his entire family out of a back-breaking existence. Something he was proud of and definitely a good reason for not allowing a woman to derail his success.

  “No, it’s no imposition at all. Please come back with us so that Lily can tend yer wound.” Colin stepped forward, his body relaxing. “In fact, why don’t ye sit and I’ll fetch the wagon?”

  “That isn’t necessary,” he started to stand but sweet, little hands rested on his shoulders, pushing him toward the brush.

  “I’ll stay with you while Colin is gone. Once I have light, I have herbs which will reduce the risk of infection.”

  Was that what she’d been collecting on the ground? “Are ye certain? It’s not me fi
rst wound. It won’t be me last.”

  “Please,” she begged, her silky voice getting higher. “Allow me to care for you after what you’ve done for me.”

  He nodded and found himself settled in the brush, laying in the dirt, her jacket back under his head. She fussed over him, adjusting the coat and raising his leg. The damned thing ached with a fierce pain that meant he wasn’t likely to sleep tonight. Her touched soothed him, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

  “How long de ye think it will take yer husband?” he asked, relaxing his body.

  “Not more than a quarter hour. We’re not far from the estate and he’s on horseback. The biggest task is hitching the horses to the wagon, but the stableman will help him.”

  “Stableman?” He lifted his head.

  “That’s right.” She continued tending to him. “And he isn’t my husband.”

  His gaze narrowed, trying to see her face in the dark. “What is he?”

  She leaned closer and for the first time, he could make out some of her features. Large eyes and a tiny nose were framed by high cheekbones and an almost pouty mouth. She was just shy of beautiful but all the more alluring for it.

  She gave him a soft smile that looked just as her hands felt. “My brother-in-law.”

  Air rushed into his chest, energy pulsing through him. It shouldn’t matter that she wasn’t married to the other fellow. That didn’t change his future. But somehow, the idea made him excited. “And the stable? He works there?”

  “Oh.” She sat up and her features grew murkier. “No. He owns them. He’s the laird here. Colin MacFarland. Though technically, my sister owns the estate. Does that make him the laird? I’m still not certain how Scottish laws of inheritance and land work.”