My Laird's Seduction_Scottish Historical Romance Read online

  He looked back, surprise lighting his eyes that she was still with him, which only made her press faster.

  Slowly, she gained ground on him until they were neck and neck, galloping across the fields, wind whipping in their hair.

  Ainsley let out a laugh that the wind carried away, but joy bubbled inside her. She loved this. This freedom that came with riding like the wind.

  His eyes were on her again, but this time they did not hold irritation or surprise but the darkening look of a hunter quarrying his prey.

  His long look slowed him just enough that she could use it to break ahead, kicking her horse faster. Let him catch her if he could.

  They were approaching the village and triumph sang in her veins. While they hadn’t declared it a race, she had still won, and gloating never sounded like such fun, until she realized that they had left her chaperone and his friend behind.

  She’d done the very thing she ought not to.

  What was more, her thoughts gave her pause for just a moment, and she pulled up on the reins, slowing the beast and allowing James to pass her at the very end.

  As he reached the outskirts of the village, he slowed his animal and she matched him, coming to a stop next to him. “I won,” he grinned.

  “It wasn’t a race,” she answered primly, her chin notching up.

  He let out a deep laugh then. “Someone is a sore loser.”

  “On the contrary,” she sniffed. “Someone who threatened to leave me behind if I didn’t keep up should likely apologize. Again.”

  He gave a mock bow on the back of the horse. “My apologies.” Then he moved his horse closer and Ainsley caught her breath. What was he doing? “And I’d like to apologize for last night. I—“

  “You already did.” She interrupted not wanting to hear his apology. With her eyes cast down to her saddle, she could see him in her periphery but she couldn’t look him in the eyes now. He wasn’t referring to the insults he’d made but to the kiss and while she knew it shouldn’t have happened, she didn’t want him to say it. A woman’s first kiss shouldn’t be a mistake.

  He gave her a nod, but she felt him soften next to her. His hand reached toward her and then he let it drop again. “It was a wonderful kiss, Ainsley.”

  She gave a nod of affirmation but she kept her gaze down. “I thought so too. But it shouldn’t happen again.” Words crowded in her mouth. But she couldn’t tell him that she thought him a rogue or that his insults had hurt her pride.

  “No, it likely shouldn’t.” He was moving closer still. “Just don’t use my given name, and we’ll be fine.”

  Her head snapped up then, her thoughts clearing as this one mystery captured her attention. “Why not? I’m sure many men and women refer to you as such.”

  “Less than you’d think.” His eyes were intent upon her. “And a woman hasn’t used it since my mother and that was a long time ago.”

  Ainsley gasped. Had his mother died? “My apologies,” she whispered.

  “We’re not apologizing, remember?” His look was still soft and he reached for her hand encased in her deerskin glove. “I normally have far more control, but I wasn’t prepared for how much hearing my name would touch me. It’s been so long and it brought back memories of my childhood.”

  Unable to push out any other words, she simply nodded her head yes. His words moved her. He wasn’t all swagger and insults. There was a man in there and he seemed to hurt. Finally she managed to ask a question. “Who raised you if it wasn’t your mother?”

  “My uncle, the Earl of Rotheport. The former earl, that is.” That made him harden. He dropped her hand and everything changed. His back grew rigid, the lines of his face taut. She didn’t need to ask if it was a happy home. She knew it wasn’t.

  Clearing her throat, she moved closer this time. “While small, I think you might have noticed that I am quite lively, strong even.” Her hand reached for his again. Holding it, she gave it a squeeze. “My father says that unloading your burden always lightens the spirit. If you ever wish to tell me about it, I’m capable of sharing your troubles.”

  He blinked at her, slowly, trying to clear the cobwebs in his mind. It felt as though he’d just had several glasses of whisky.

  She addled his brain. There she sat, looking lovely. Color in her cheeks from the brisk ride, sparkling eyes and those lips that had felt and tasted as good as they looked. Bloody hell, he would have to remember that now.

  But it had been easier to ignore those details when he’d painted her as a spoiled socialite. He’d taken a few of her traits and used them to cast her in a particular shade, because that was easier. When he thought her a woman just like his mother, he could dismiss her. Perhaps his mother had more depth too. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t seen her since the age of nine and it was difficult to discern these things as a child.

  But Ainsley, she confounded him. Her resemblance to his mother should make him hate her the way he hated the woman who abandoned him, but somehow it didn’t.

  “That’s kind of ye, lass, but—”

  “Was that a Scottish accent?” She raised her brows, her smile growing. “There is a laird buried under the captain and the earl.”

  Bullocks, it was like she was looking into his mind.

  “There you are,” Callum came riding up next to them. His eyes traveling to their locked hands. Gently, he slid his fingers away from Ainsley’s. He’d hear about this, he was sure of it.

  What was it with Ainsley? It was as though all of his carefully constructed guards simply fell away whenever they were alone. He hadn’t told anyone about either of his parents in years.

  “Here we are,” Ainsley placed her other hand back on the reins of her horse and kicked it forward to meet Callum. “Where do we go from here?”

  James cleared his throat. “I need to find a tailor and possibly a dressmaker.”

  Ainsley quirked a brow. “I suppose as captain you need to look spiffy.”

  He gave her a withering glance. That kind that most would find frightening. “Very funny. I simply need to have a new sail made. My sailors can repair one, but to fabricate an entire new one is a different matter.”

  She giggled, not seeming the least put out by his look.

  “She doesn’t seem that intimidated by your fierce face,” Callum said.

  “It has a name?” she laughed again.

  “I will have you know that sailors and soldiers quake in fear when I give them that look.” James huffed, but a small smile was turning the corner of his lips up.

  “Do they?” she tapped her chin. “Men are often afraid of my father too. He is very large and rather loud. But the women who live with him know it’s all a façade.”

  James glared, his smile disappearing. “I am not putting up a façade. They are afraid for good reason.”

  She rode back over to him. It was wrong to needle him in front of Callum as she was about to do. But he had loudly, publicly pointed out her vanity and he deserved the same in return. And so her voice was whisper soft as she delivered her blow. “Are they, James?”

  His face paled and she saw a shiver run down his torso, his hands clenching on the reins. “Ainsley,” he growled out. She honestly wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a command.

  “Be honest, would you hurt me?” She couldn’t quite keep the mocking merriment out of her voice and she was sure it showed on her face as well.

  He glower grew even darker. “You know I wouldn’t.”

  She grinned back at Callum, who was assessing the two of them again. “I knew there was nothing to fear.” Then she kicked her horse forward. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the tailor and the dressmaker.”

  Chapter Six

  He watched her riding in front of him, her back straight, her movement fluid, her hair now streaming down her back, thanks to their wild ride. It was as glorious as he’d pictured. “Peacock,” he muttered under his breath.

  Callum came up next to him. “She can’t be all bluster. She kept up with ye.�
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  James grinned. “Aye, she did.” He looked at her again as the wind ruffled those glorious locks of hair. “The thing about peacocks is they’ve a right to strut. They are stunning.”

  “And so is she,” Callum returned quietly. “And she likes you too. I saw her holding yer hand.”

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. It was a gesture of sympathy because I’d mentioned something about my parents,” James warned, his voice going hard again.

  “You’ve never told me about that,” Callum accused.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re men. We don’t share like that. I didn’t mean to share with her either. I am married to the sea currently and I don’t intend to change that for a good long while. Not until it is required and perhaps not even then.” Why did those words sound wrong? “But I was wrong to judge her so quickly. She’s far more than the vain girl I first thought she was.”

  “I agree. She would make any man proud.” Callum’s voice held a warning. “And you are making it difficult for me to pursue her.”

  James’ insides lurched. Jealousy rising like bile in his throat. He had the ridiculous urge to tell his friend to stay the hell away from her. But he swallowed those feelings down. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Callum kicked his horse forward and joined Ainsley in the front. He could hear them talking amicably, no arguments, no needling. Just polite conversation. He had meant it when he’d said that he didn’t want to pursue a match with her, but did the two of them have to appear so perfect for one another?

  Two hours later, he had most of his business done, and after a meal at the inn, they were making their way back to Iverness.

  He hadn’t spoken much to Ainsley, but somehow, it was becoming more difficult to ignore her.

  “So how many sisters do you have?” Callum was asking.

  “Two, both older, but complete opposites.” Ainsley laughed as she said the last part.

  James found himself grinning. He wasn’t surprised she was the youngest.

  “Fiona is my oldest sister. She has flaming red hair and a temper to match, just like my father. But she is also the best horseman I know and fiercely loyal.”

  “Better than you?” James asked unable to hold back anymore.

  “Did ye just compliment me?” Her hair swung about her back as she turned those big beautiful eyes his way with a cheeky grin.

  Bloody hell he wanted to kiss her again. “’Tis a fact. You almost beat me.”

  “Well, I’ll take it. But yes, better than me. It infuriates every local boy when she kicks their arse.”

  Both men chuckled. James tried to imagine a red-haired version of Ainsley flying on the back of a horse. “I’d like to see that.”

  He watched Ainsley bristle. “She’s recently married.”

  It filled him with a satisfaction he couldn’t name to know that she was jealous too. It wasn’t only him.

  “And your other sister?” Callum interrupted. He gave James a glare over Ainsley’s shoulder.

  “Emilia. She’s very quiet. Shy. But beautiful inside and out. Men don’t see it, but I do. And some lucky man will soon enough.”

  The conversation continued but James remained silent and this time it wasn’t out of respect for Callum. He could hear the love and the pride Ainsley held for her family. He wondered what he might give up in his life to experience that again. He’d only ever really known it with his father.

  His uncle bore no love for him or affection. He’d raised him out of duty and James had known he was a burden every day of his life. His mother had dropped him at his uncle’s door when his father had died. She’d wanted to marry a man who had no use for another child, already having four of his own.

  He’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be part of a family. He thought he no longer cared. He had the sea, the army, and friends.

  But it was more than just Ainsley’s stories, it was her very voice. Something in it called to his own need for love. When she’d spoken his name, it had poked an old wound. Or perhaps a new one. The one that still wished for love. Not lust but true affection.

  Not that he didn’t lust after Ainsley. By God, the woman was glorious.

  He shook all these thoughts off. He’d marry years from now and not to a little spitfire who would challenge him every step of the way. Because those old wounds, he could not allow them to be opened. If another woman broke his heart he’d be lost forever. It was a chance he couldn’t take.

  As they approached the estate, several sheep grazed in one of the outer, unfenced fields.

  “That’s strange.” Ainsley kicked her horse faster. James and Callum immediately followed. “Those sheep are Ewan’s. But they should be within the fence.”

  “Should we go back and tell them at the house?” Callum asked.

  Ainsley shook her head. “We can take care of it. I don’t want to risk losing any of them.” As she approached the sheep, she let out a loud ringing call that trilled in his ears like the whistle of a train.

  Then she began to sweep back and forth behind the sheep. As if of one mind, they began to move toward the fences. He and Callum trailed behind. Not having lived in Scotland since he was nine, he’d never done this before. English lords didn’t herd sheep.

  Callum was grinning like an idiot, the smile pulling at his scar, which caught the sun. He suspected that if Callum were making of list of attributes his future bride might have, being able to herd sheep was either already on it or about to be added.

  As they moved closer to the fence, James could see that the gate was wide open. He also noticed a man racing toward them, his hat in his hand. This was likely the shepherd.

  “Oh my lady,” he breathed as she pushed the sheep into the pen. “Thank you so much.”

  “Of course, Tully.” She gave him a warm smile. “Is the gate broken?”

  The man looked down at the ground. “I don’t think so.” His face twisted. “Me Addy is sick. I’ve just been absentminded with tending her and…” The man’s voice trailed off.

  Ainsley looked pained. “Why didn’t I know your wife was sick?”

  “I didn’t want to bother anyone. With the baby and all the guests, it didn’t seem right.” He slowly crushed the brim of his hat with his hands.

  She swung down off her horse then, and gave the man a pat on the arm. “I’ll see that the doctor visits your cottage. He’ll be back today to visit the baby.”

  The man’s eyes lit with gratefulness. “Thank ye, my lady.”

  Then he closed the gate and locked it. Ainsley looked back over to them. “Since the groom can’t seem to keep up with us, I am going to need one of you to help me back on this horse.”

  Before James could formulate an answer, Callum was swinging down. “My pleasure,” he answered.

  That same jealousy bristled along his skin and by the time Callum had placed his hands on her waist, he wanted to knock the other man to the ground.

  “I’ve got to find a lumber yard,” he growled and then turned and left.

  Ainsley watched him ride away and wondered why he was suddenly angry. But she gave herself a shake. It didn’t matter, she told herself.

  It had been a momentary lapse in judgment to allow him to kiss her and one she would not repeat again.

  He was clearly moody. When he wasn’t sharing his past, he’d been silent or sullen. She didn’t know why she thought about him at all.

  Except that his lips had been divine and underneath she could sense a hurt that cried out to be mended.

  Kicking her horse toward the barn, she told herself to stop. He wasn’t interested in her. He’d made that very clear and she should leave him be. Much as she’d been looking for excitement, he was likely more than she could manage.

  Leaving her horse in the stable, she headed for the house with Callum as an escort. A bath and a nap would feel delicious after the afternoon she’d just had.

  But as she entered the house, Agnes came bouncing toward her. “I’ve the best news,” she bea
med. “For both of us.”

  “What is it?” Ainsley’s asked breathlessly, already excited.

  “This Friday, we’re going to have a party to celebrate the engagement. All the guests will assemble before the wedding.”

  “A party!” Ainsley began bouncing too. “How delightful.” She knew the very dress she would wear. It was the one she hadn’t worn to dinner last night. It was a perfect complement to her skin and the shape showed off all her best assets. She glanced over at Callum, sure that he would think her attractive. Yet somehow, it was James she pictured dancing with.

  “I know, isn’t it exciting?” Agnes came up to clasp Ainsley’s hands. The smile that spread across her face, however, dimmed.

  “What is it?” Ainsley asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Agnes shook her head. “I’ve only just realized that I don’t have a dress to wear for either the party or the wedding. My allowance was spent on sturdier travel clothes.”

  Ainsley winced. That was disappointing. It was too late to purchase anything that would actually be suitable, at least for the party. “Perhaps Clarissa has something?”

  Agnes nodded. “Of course. That is a good idea.” Then Agnes gave her hands a final squeeze. “But it will be fun, no matter what I wear.”

  Ainsley couldn’t quite agree. Looking beautiful was more than half the fun for her. And since Agnes was the guest of honor, everyone would take note of what she was wearing. But she nodded anyway and then, saying her goodbyes, made her way to her room.

  But after her bath, she couldn’t sleep. Putting on a dressing gown, she opened her wardrobe to rummage through her dresses. The one she’d worn last night had been carefully hung up, while the one she planned to wear on Friday hung next to it.

  She sighed as she looked at it. It was her favorite and she knew that she would shine in it but a little voice told her that what made it perfect for her would make it perfect for Agnes too. Better even, as the blue hues would bring out the color in Agnes’s eyes.