Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Fourteen

Sophie drifted off to sleep.

She hadn’t meant to, but Eliza and Menace had taken to speaking in soft tones quietly in the corner. Her head had dipped as she sat at the table.

Menace had told her to go to bed, but somehow it didn’t seem right to sleep with two other people in the room and Ewan out there facing danger on her behalf.

She’d been fighting sleep for the last two hours. But the quiet and the dark were making her eyes heavy, and she snapped them open again, determined to stay awake.

Which is why she heard the creaking of the deck boards as someone crossed the wooden planks. She sat up straighter, cocking her head.

The sailors moved about all day and all night, it wasn’t odd per se. But since they’d docked, it had been quiet. The men were either sleeping, enjoying the lack of duties, or on shore celebrating.

Sophie stood to listen more closely. Had Ewan returned? Was one of the sailors coming back from a night at the bar?

Menace stood too, Eliza following suit. “What is it?” she whispered into the dark. They had no candles lit. No one was to know Sophie was here.

But no one answered as the knob to the door rattled. Menace crossed the room, stepping in front of her as he blocked the door.

Eliza’s arms slid around her, pulling her even further into the shadows as the locked knob rattled again.

Was it Ewan?

But the person on the other side did not call out. Hadn’t answered. Ewan surely would have announced himself. Instead, silence fell for a second and then another and then a deafening crash filled the room as the door smashed inward.

A scream ripped from Sophie’s throat as two men lunged at Menace. She heard flesh hitting flesh and then someone was rushing toward her and Eliza, the other woman stepping in front of Sophie.

She only had a moment to contemplate the selflessness of Eliza’s act before she was thrust to the side and rough hands wrapped around Sophie’s arm.

The way they felt, she knew who they belonged to. Who had grabbed her. A scream clogged her throat as she attempted to pull away. “Hughes,” she gasped.

“You thought you could run from me,” he snarled as he dragged her toward the door. Another man wrestled with Menace on the floor.

The last time, she’d been his victim, powerless to stop what was happening. But she would be braver, stronger this time and with a giant heave, she ripped herself from his hand, grabbing the wooden chair. He reached for her, catching her waist, but she swung around, catching his shins with the hard seat. She heard his yelp of pain and after a moment’s victory, he came back at her, slapping her face with a force that stole her breath.

She’d not caught it when he grabbed her legs, throwing her over his shoulder, the sharp edge of his bone knocking into her soft stomach and making her groan in pain.

She had to get free. If he left with her, she was afraid she might never make it back.

But as she tried to struggle, he only tightened his grip. They were making their way out the door and Sophie grabbed onto the wood of the frame, doing anything and everything to delay their progress.

She was losing, though, and she could feel the strength leaving her fingers as he tugged harder, tightening his hold on her back, pushing the air from her lungs. She struggled to draw in a breath, to keep her hold on the wood. To stay on Ewan’s ship.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, she was falling off his shoulder, only her grip on the wood keeping her from crashing to the floor.

Her head banged into the frame, and dimly she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but the world was growing black and hazy.

She slid down, her rump landing on the hardwood. She started to close her eyes when Ewan’s voice filled her head. “Stay with me, lass.”

Had she imagined it?

But as she blinked her eyes open again, there he was, filling her vision. “You’re here.”

“Ye don’t think I’d let him take ye, do ye? I told ye. I’ll always keep ye safe.”

Tears sprang to her eyes as she wrapped her arms about his neck. “I love you, Ewan.”

“I love ye, too,” he whispered back, lifting her into his arms. Hughes was a crumpled ball on the floor and Menace appeared in front of them, looking battered and bruised, but he’d clearly been victorious over his attacker.

“I would have caught him,” Menace grunted even as Eliza stepped into his arms. “He’d not have escaped with her.”

Sophie tucked her head against her husband. “I’ve every faith in you, my lord. But all the same…” She looked at her husband. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad too,” he said. “Menace, are you well enough to fetch the Bow Street Runners?”

Menace gave a single nod. “Of course.”

“Let’s tie these two up first.” Ewan guided her to a chair and helped her sit. Her head began to ache terribly, but as she looked down at Hughes, she smiled. The man was about to go to jail. Meanwhile, she’d married the love of her life. She’d suffer through a bump on the head for that.

She watched Ewan’s sure hands as he used rope to secure the two men. Belatedly, she realized the other was Mr. Tidemore. No wonder Hughes had come straight to the ship. Thanks to Mr. Tidemore, he’d known exactly on which ship she’d be waiting.

“What’s next?” she asked, staring down at the two men who’d just tried to take everything from her.

“They’ll go to prison. Ye can’t just take a man’s wife.” He growled. “And I’ll pull all the evidence I can to see that he’s punished fer other crimes.” He gave her a long look. “And…I’ll talk to yer father. See if I can garner his support.”

“And if you can’t?” she asked, her hand coming to her throat.

He gave her an easy smile. “Ye’re my wife, Sophie.”

She slid to the floor, where he knelt next to Hughes, who still had not stirred. “What if he insists the match isn’t legal and I must be returned to his charge?”

“He can disown ye, but if what ye say is true, he won’t cause the scandal. I’ll convince him.”

She pressed her head to his shoulder. “I love you, Ewan McLaren.”

His lips brushed the top of her head. “I love ye too, lass.”

* * *

Three days later…

Sophie sat in her parents’drawing room, staring at the walls that were so familiar and yet had become strange.

Her old wardrobe had been handed over by her parents, now neatly tucked into Ewan’s townhome, and she’d dressed in one of her finest silk gowns for this dinner with her parents.

Ewan sat next to her, relaxing into the seat.

He’d spoken to her father two days prior and though Ewan hadn’t told her specifically what had been said, she knew they’d have another wedding in two weeks’ time. One in a church in England, sanctioned by her parents, and giving Ewan all his due rights as her husband, including her dowry.

“How did you convince my father again?” she asked as they waited for her parents to arrive. She initially hadn’t asked many questions, relieved her father had consented. But now she was about to see them, and she had no idea what sort of greeting she would receive.

Ewan chuckled. “I simply pointed out the benefits of accepting me as a son-in-law, especially with the Hughes scandal about to break.”

Sophie lifted her brow. “Are you going to tell me exactly what you said?”

He quirked a brow. “I only reasoned with yer father. There’s nothing else to say.”

“Menace and Devonhall, did they attended the meeting too?”

He gave a single nod. “They were only meant to represent the family ye’d be marrying into. They didn’t need to say a word.”

Sophie shook her head. She could only imagine how her father had faced three formidable men. He’d never been the most assertive man.

Her parents entered the room and Sophie stood. How would her mother and father greet her after the way she’d left?

But as her mother wrapped Sophie into her arms, she stopped worrying. Backing away, she looked at her father. “Papa.”

“Sophie,” he replied with a short bow. His eyes didn’t quite meet hers, but his tone was civil. He didn’t explain and she didn’t ask. She wasn’t certain they’d ever be close again, but at least he’d consented to her match with Ewan here in England. That was enough.

Ewan’s hand came to her back. “Shall we discuss the details of the wedding?”

Her father straightened. “It would be proper for Sophie to live here in the interim.”

Ewan’s hand tightened. “My wife stays with me. I told ye, it’s not negotiable.”

Sophie’s eyebrows lifted. They’d just talked? She was certain her formidable husband had done most of the talking. “We’re being very discreet, Papa. We mostly stay in.”

Ewan chuckled at that and she knew why. They spent hours in bed, and the rest talking endlessly. They’d hardly left the house.

Her mother cleared her throat. “Of course, dear. Now tell me. What gown shall you wear?”

Sophie didn’t care a wit. She was next to Ewan. Exactly where she belonged.