The Earl's Forsaken Bride_Scottish Historical Romance Read online

  “Is it Mrs. Baker?” her aunt asked, but already her voice was more faded than it had been moments ago.

  “Let me get the kettle on and then we’ll talk.” She gestured for the two men to have a seat in the parlor, such as it was. Only two chairs sat next to the fire, which had gone out while she had been away.

  Hanging her cloak on the hook, she heard Callum suck in his breath again and she mentally cursed herself. She’d forgotten how men reacted to the shape of her body. Crossing back over to where he now sat, she reached into the basket to remove the herbs. She was careful not to look at him or Ewan while she stood again, and made her way to the kitchen.

  She quickly stocked the fire and heated the kettle. After making four cups of tea, she returned to the front room, handing each man a steaming cup. She didn’t have a fancy pot to serve it in as she had once used without thought. In fact, they were lucky to have two additional cups for guests.

  Returning to the room, she found it toasty warm and so much more inviting than when she had left. Callum had tended the fire, which in and of itself made her insides melt just a little. Having no one to rely on, even this simple task seemed significant.

  “If ye’ll excuse me for a minute more,” she started after she handed them each a cup.

  Ewan waved his hand. “Tend yer aunt. The tea will keep us occupied.”

  With a grateful nod, she went into her aunt’s room. “Aunt Mary?” she asked softly.

  The other woman opened her eyes. Her mother’s sister had once been beautiful but now she lay frail upon the bed. Helping her to sit a little, she began to feed her sips of tea.

  The beverage brought some color back into the other woman’s face. “Who is here, child?”

  “I’m not a child. I’m near twenty years of age,” Elizabeth chided her aunt gently. “A man who claims to be our cousin. Great Aunt Sophia’s son and his friend.”

  Her aunt tried to sit up further but failed. “Why are they here?”

  “Lord Blackwood has proposed marriage.” Elizabeth smoothed the other woman’s hair as she continued to take sips of tea.

  “Does he appear healthy? Kind? Able to sire children?” Her aunt spoke more quickly than Elizabeth had heard in weeks.

  “How could I possibly know all of that?” she gave a gentle huff.

  Her aunt sunk back into her pillows. “Go find out. And Elizabeth, if there is nothing amiss, marry him. I mean it, child. Do it for me. You’ll have no niece to care for you when you are a failing, silly old woman like myself. I’ll cross to the afterlife better knowing that you’re cared for.”

  Elizabeth sat back on the bed, her aunt’s words reverberating through her. While her own old age wasn’t even a concern, she knew she needed to do something very soon to help her Aunt Mary. She had never mentioned death before and hearing her surrogate mother say it now frightened Elizabeth.

  Chapter Three

  Callum sat waiting for Elizabeth to return, the tiny teacup she had given him looking awkward in his hand. He pictured her flawless features, tiny waist, the flair of her hips. His perfect plan was already falling apart. He’d told Ewan that he didn’t want a silly miss who didn’t understand the hardships of the world. That was part of why he’d asked for help in finding a wife, but he knew that wasn’t all of it. He didn’t want an emotional attachment that proper courting would bring. After what he’d seen, even worse, what he’d done during the war, he didn’t deserve the love of a woman. Up until this moment, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it.

  But Elizabeth was making him question his motives and his feelings. It had started even before he’d seen her face because he’d been…drawn to her. Those lips, her strength. The independent streak that had her demanding two grown men leave while she kept herself at a distance.

  And he ached a little as he thought of the burden she carried. Her past and her present. Sure, he was weighed down by his own past, but he was strong, so much larger than her. And he still bore scars, and not the one on his face. He was plagued by the memories and dreams of what had happened during the war.

  He couldn’t imagine what her situation had done to her. The worry she’d experienced over her most basic needs. A woman like her should be protected. If nothing else, he could give her that.

  The door to the bedroom softly opened and then closed again. He stopped thinking about any hesitations he might have as Elizabeth leaned her forehead against the closed door, worry creasing the lines of her beautiful face. Her hands clenched into balls around the fabric of her skirt while his own breath ceased for a moment. He didn’t think as he pulled a coin purse from the pocket of his waistcoat. “Ewan, send the coach to fetch the doctor.”

  Without a word, Ewan took the purse and headed out the front door, leaving him alone with Elizabeth.

  She swung her gaze swung to his and he could see the tears making them watery. Without meaning to, he stood, his head nearly touching the ceiling of the tiny cottage. “Elizabeth,” he started, unsure of what else to say.

  “She’s dying,” Elizabeth whispered more to herself than to him.

  He swallowed, hurting for her. “I ken, lass.” He took a step toward her then, answering her anyway. “I’ve called the doctor here today. I don’t want anythin’ in return. But I did come here to make ye me wife. And, I have to say, ye could use the help, lass. Ye should take it.”

  Surprise lit her eyes and then she straightened, her look becoming more guarded. She was smart enough not to trust a strange men, which was good sense on her part though his intentions were pure.

  Her head tilted to the side. “Why would you want me? I bring no title, no dowry, and certainly no social connections.”

  His chest contracted at her complete lack of confidence in her worth. “Ye’re a woman of breedin’. Ye understand what it means fer life to be hard and, I hope, we can come to an agreement, where you will help me wit’ me house and bearin’ me children and I will provide you with far more protection than ye have now.”

  She shook her head, her back snapping straight. “And when you can’t protect me anymore?”

  “Like yer father?” he said gently, but he watched her face spasm, the memory of him clearly upsetting her. “If it pleases ye, I’ll start an account fer ye and another fer yer aunt. It will be yer money, no one else, not even me, can touch it. If at any time, I can’t care fer ye, you will have somethin’ to fall back on.”

  He saw her indecision…or was it temptation? “My aunt, she can’t live on her own. If she lives at all.”

  “She’s yer family. She’ll come stay wit’ us.” He dared to take a step and then another toward her. He knew she might flutter away at any moment, so he moved slowly. Extending his hand, he took her chapped one in his. “I’ll do right by ye, lass.”

  A choked sound emitted from her throat. Then, she stepped toward him, her body so close to his he could almost feel her. Her scent wrapped around him, fresh and clean like a spring day. She leaned her head down and rested it against his chest. “I thought I could take care of myself,” she whispered. “But I’m frightened.”

  His other hand threaded through her silky hair, and he dropped his cheek to rest on the top of her head. It had been so long since he’d touched anyone this way. Some soldiers would seek the comfort of a woman, but not him. He’d avoided them until recently. He had so little to give and any woman would surely see that. His heart had been too damaged by the fighting to give affection. Support yes; comfort, likely. Fortunately for him, Elizabeth needed exactly what he could provide. “I understand.”

  “How long do I have to decide?” she whispered against his chest.

  He honestly hadn’t thought that part through. “After the doctor leaves, I’ll seek out an inn. I’ll be back tomorrow to fix yer roof. Whether you stay or ye go, it’ll need to be in better nick.”

  “Why is it better to fix it if we go?” She looked at him then, her wide blue eyes, locking with his.

  His fingers came around to softly stroke her cheek.
It was like velvet under his hand. Resisting the urge to run his thumb over her full lips, he gave her a smile instead. “Yer aunt will fetch a higher price for the house if it looks in good repair.”

  For the first time since they’d arrived, she smiled. It devastated him. He wanted to crush her body to his and hold her in his arms as his lips devoured hers. “That makes sense,” she murmured.

  Nothing made sense. Not his response to this woman, and certainly not the fact that he still stood here, asking her to be his wife. This was supposed to be a contract. Already attraction was clouding his judgment, pity for her situation, and approval of how she had remained strong through such trying times, creating a desire for emotional ties he didn’t want.

  Ewan opened the front door. “It shouldn’t take too long,” he called. “I’ve taken the extra throws from the carriage, it’s cooling quickly. Would your aunt benefit from them?”

  Winter was settling in. Callum’s thoughts flitted over cold winter nights with a warm woman in his bed. This woman with her lovely curves pressed against him. His body tightened anew but she stepped out of his arms to fetch the blankets. He let out a steadying breath.

  Returning, she entered her aunt’s room and he followed, unable to remain at a distance from her. She covered the older woman just as she began coughing. Elizabeth gently tucked her in.

  It hurt to watch her and so he made his way to the kitchen instead. Finding it spotless, he couldn’t help but also notice the bare cupboards. The larder held a single fresh chicken, however, and some salt.

  He needed to make himself busy and so he began pulling out the ingredients for a simple soup. “Ewan, would ye fetch some water?”

  “Ye’re serious?” Ewan raised his eyebrows. “Ye’re going to cook?”

  “I had to do my share during the war.” Callum stood straighter. Ewan had been a captain and likely hadn’t gotten that particular duty, but Callum didn’t mind it. Preparing food, even in India, had been a normal activity, something that made him think of home. It was one of the tasks that had kept him sane enough to return. “Truthfully, I never minded it.”

  “It’s a useful skill for any person to have,” Ewan said as he started crossing the kitchen to the back door.

  “I learned all sorts of things while fighting.” Callum shrugged. Many of his lessons hadn’t been so good. “Schools a man on how to be humble.”

  Ewan rubbed the back of his neck. “I have had my lessons in humility too.”

  “It’s not a kind world is it? Elizabeth’s gotten some of the worst of it though.”

  “Indeed she has.” Ewan hesitated, standing in the doorway. “Does that worry you?”

  “Not at all.” Callum ran his hand through his hair. “A woman who understands hardship will better understand me, I reckon.”

  Ewan nodded in agreement. “I felt that way about Clarissa too. She’d been hurt in her own way.”

  “Tomorrow, do ye think ye could help me thatch the roof?”

  “I don’t want to leave ye to fend fer yerself but I should make arrangements to return to Clarissa,” Ewan said as he opened the door. “I don’t like being away from her and Ava. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I don’t blame ye at all.”Callum tossed the chicken into the pot hanging over the fire and then stocked the flames.

  “Thank ye fer understandin’.” Ewan stepped aside. “I’ll be right back with the water.”

  Dr. McIntyre arrived an hour later and disappeared into the bedroom as Elizabeth took over the stew. She’d said little as she set to work and it left Callum free to watch her. The supple movement of her body transfixed him until he realized he too was being watched. Ewan grinned at him from across the tiny table.

  The doctor appeared in the doorway. “Miss Chase.”

  “Lady Elizabeth,” Callum rumbled from the table.

  The doctor looked at him in surprise but then quickly corrected himself. “Lady Elizabeth. Your aunt has Pleurisy. An inflammation of the lungs. I’ll leave you with some milkweed to boil into her broth and I can leech her if you’d like—”

  “No, thank you,” Elizabeth waved her hand in front of her.

  The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “The rest is up to your aunt. She’ll recover or she won’t.”

  Elizabeth nodded her understanding, but lines of worry creased her beautiful face. Ewan escorted Dr. McIntyre back outside. There was little else for him to do.

  “Are ye all right, lass?” Callum asked as Elizabeth turned back to the stove.

  Elizabeth jerked her chin up to show she was. “She’s my mother’s sister but she practically raised me after my mother died. She was a spinster and my nanny. When my father passed, she provided for us.”

  “Ye’re lucky to have her,” Callum said, standing to comfort her. He reached out his fingertips to brush the back of her hand but he pulled them away again. It wasn’t appropriate now, though he wanted to touch her.

  She kept her back to him. “I had suitors, even as young as I was. But after my father passed, their intentions, if they remained at all, were rather sordid. If not for her…” Elizabeth trailed off but Callum knew what she meant.

  He curled his lip into a sneer. Those men had asked her to be their mistresses. Jackals. He’d like to show them what he thought of their behavior. “Now ye’ll take care of her.” He moved even closer until they were almost touching. A wisp of her hair tickled under his chin. “And I can help ye.” Why couldn’t he stay away from this woman?

  “How?” her whisper was almost a plea.

  “The nights are getting cold. We’ll keep this place warm by fixing the roof. Make her lots of broth for her strength. Return the laundry and just care for her, I’ll make sure ye’re fed.”

  She turned to him, her face so close as he bent down that he could feel her breath. But her eyes were squeezed closed. “You’re trapping me with your kindness.”

  Clever girl, he thought. “Aye, I suppose I am but whatever my flaws, I know the life I give ye will be better than this.”

  “What are your flaws?” she asked then, surprising him.

  “I don’t ken,” he started. But of course, he did. His heart was broken inside. He could give her protection but not love.

  “Will you raise your hand to me?” She opened her eyes then, searching his face.

  He nearly choked on his own spit. “Can’t ye tell I would never hurt a woman?”

  She squinted her eyes then. “Do you have a mistress?”

  “Ye ken we met a few hours ago.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Is that a yes?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” He huffed. “I dunnae have a mistress. I haven’t even lain with a woman for—” He stopped, realizing how much he was revealing.

  “I told you about my aunt, my suitors. I shared the shame of being ruined. You know what you are getting if I say yes to your proposal. What will I be getting in return? The truth, please.”

  His mouth set in a straight line. It was uncomfortable to answer, but it was important that he not only formulate words but that they be truthful. “The war made me hard. I dunnae laugh all that often and I feel numb inside. I suffer from dreams that wake me at night. I couldn’t marry a woman that didn’t understand the dark side of people. I don’t think I can protect her from knowin’ that when it lives inside my memories. And I don’t ken if I’m capable of love any longer.”

  “Oh Callum,” she breathed and then she was in his arms, pressed against him. Her head once again dropped against his chest. “I understand.”

  What did she understand…him? His reasons? But before he could ask she lifted her head again.

  “I’ll marry you,” she murmured as she tipped her head back further to look into his eyes.

  Without thought, he dipped down to lightly press his lips to hers. It was a gentle kiss, meant to bind them together, but heat curled in his stomach making everything tighten. Bloody bullocks, he shouldn’t have done that.
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  She was so soft underneath him and as he kissed her again and then again, she responded in the most satisfying way. Her lips moving with his, parting under the pressure of his tongue.

  “Ahem.” Someone coughed behind him. Damnation, he’d forgotten about Ewan.

  And for just a moment, he’d forgotten that he shouldn’t feel this way. He was too broken.

  Chapter Four

  Elizabeth gave a start as Ewan coughed. She must be mad. That was the only explanation for how she was acting. Allowing a man to kiss her. Allowing her body to respond in such a wanton way. Agreeing to marry him.

  She moved back to the fire and ladled stew for her aunt. Callum was deftly sidestepping her defenses. She’d always found such dark, devilishly handsome men intriguing, and he was treating her with such care, at a time when she needed it most. It was near irresistible. “I’m just going to bring this to Aunt Mary.” She turned to find both men looking at her. “Then we can eat.”

  “Take yer time, lass,” he said to her as she carried the broth into the other room.

  Setting the broth to the side, Elizabeth helped her aunt sit up. “Is he still here?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth picked up the broth and began spooning it to her aunt.

  “Does he still want to marry you?” Her aunt straightened a little, suppressing a cough.

  Elizabeth tried not to sigh. She didn’t want to talk about this, she wanted to discuss the doctor’s visit but she knew her aunt wouldn’t be deterred. “Yes.”

  “Well, child, what did you say?” Aunt Mary’s eyes were brighter than she’d seen them in days.

  She did sigh as she answered, “I said yes.”

  “My prayers have been answered.” Her aunt clutched the blankets to her chest and looked up to the ceiling.

  “Well now you can pray to get better because after you’re better, Callum intends to take you with us.”

  “Callum is it?” Her aunt gave her the ghost of a smile. “You should go back out and join him. Men don’t like to be left alone for long.”