Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Five

Sophie shiftedas she stared at Ewan. She’d asked this perfect stranger to continue to share her room. She’d revealed personal information about her family, her fears. What was wrong with her?

It had to be the situation in which she found herself.

Or the man himself.

Ewan had this way of making her feel safe. He was large, and grumbly, but also attractive, kind, and gentlemanly. He made her feel at ease in the most tenuous time in her entire life.

“Why don’t I give ye time to change and then I can take ye on a walk about the deck?” he asked, his face unreadable. “Exercise and fresh air would be good fer ye.”

She set down her spoon, giving him another smile. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

He rose and stepped out the door, leaving Sophie alone once again.

Opening the parcel, she pulled out a dress, stockings, a corset, a chemise, and sturdy pantaloons, the last making her face heat. He’d chosen these things for her.

He’d also included a brush and several other items for her personal care.

She shook her head, marveling that he’d thought of everything as she began to change.

The gown was made of wool and not precisely fit but not terrible either. She’d certainly be far warmer in it. Once done, she started on her hair, attempting to pin the thick locks back into some appropriate style. There was only a shaving mirror, which didn’t leave her much room to work.

But in the end, she created a simple style that suited the gown and her face. She sighed as she tried to inspect the coif. Would he like it? Why did she want him to?

The answer to that was simple enough.

Her nerves fluttered with excitement. She liked him.

He was large, and strong, and certainly able to care for a woman. Sophie had been raised her entire life to make a good wife to such a man. And while running away was a large mark against her character, she was sure she’d explained her behavior.

She set the brush down, turning toward the door when a new thought occurred to her. Perhaps he was a gentleman because he had a wife already.

Her stomach twisted at the idea. She had to find out because a plan was beginning to form. Which made her smile. He’d told her to leave the scheming to him. Or was that the lying? He wasn’t wrong. She’d have to be honest in her intentions. It was the only way forward for her.

Opening the door, he waited just outside in the hall. His eyes swept down her as he gave her a perfunctory smile. “Ye look lovely, lass.”

Pleasure rippled along her skin. She wished to please him. “Thank you,” she replied. “For the compliment and the clothing. I appreciate them both very much.”

He held out his elbow then, and she slipped her hand into the crook. It was an act she’d done a hundred times, nay a thousand or more. But somehow, here, it reminded her of who she was, who he was, and what she should be doing with this opportunity.

He helped her up the ladder and then Sophie blinked in the sun. “I forgot a hat fer ye,” he said with a growl.

“It’s no worry,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll keep my deck walks to early morning or evening. Normally, I’m an early riser anyhow.”

He frowned as he looked down at her. “Yer skin is a lovely shade. The sun will ruin it.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Now…” She patted his arm. Funny, the first few times he’d touched her, she’d been frightened. He was large and the last man who’d touched her had abused her. But when she touched Ewan…tingling flitted up from her fingers, settling in her belly. “Tell me about yourself.”

His grimace turned into a full scowl, his mouth turned down into a severe line. “What fer?”

She blinked up at him. “How many days will we be on this ship?”

“Five or six at most, depending on the weather.”

“And in that time, we’re only going to discuss me?” She raised her brows.

The frown stayed in place, but he let out a slow breath. “What is it ye wish to ken?”

She tapped her chin. “Let me see. Where do you live when you don’t live on this boat?”

“I have a townhouse in London and an estate outside of Edinburgh. But I have to confess, I spend a great deal more time in London these days than I do Scotland.”

Disappointment tightened her chest. She wished to stay in Scotland where her family might never find her. “And who lives with you?”

“No one lives with me in London,” he said, then shrugged. “My mother still resides at Glamis Estate, my ancestral home.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm. He hadn’t mentioned a wife or children. “I’d like to see your home. It must be lovely.”

“I think Glamis to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. I don’t ken that my mother agrees.”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”

He stopped then. “My mother is English, born and raised in London.”

Surprise made her start. His mother was English? She’d never have known it. He looked like the largest and brawniest of Scots to her. “That’s why you have English cousins.”

He gave a nod. “Exactly. And though I’ve offered to buy her a home in England, she refuses. She’s never liked Scotland, but I can only guess, she wants to keep an eye on me. Or perhaps, continue to flaunt her residence to my dead father.”

Sophie tilted her chin back further to study his face. The words were lined with a great deal of meaning. “I beg your pardon?”

He shook his head. “This is why we shouldn’t talk about me.”

But Sophie stopped, turning toward him, which caused their bodies to brush. Heat filled her and she took a deep breath to expel the distraction. She had a great deal more to say and words need not fail her now. “On the contrary,” she said, hoping to give him an easy smile. “Last night I told you about my father and his insistence that I marry a man who’d attacked me.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Appearances have always been what’s most important to him. If anyone can understand selfish parents, it’s me.”

* * *

Ewan looked down at Sophie,trying to control the urge to kiss her.

Which was ridiculous. This wasn’t a social stroll, and they weren’t courting. He’d brought her out here because most of the crew was on land and it seemed an ideal time for her to get a bit of exercise.

So why did he wish to stroke his thumb along her jaw? Trace her nose, her cheeks, her lips, and then dip down and taste them?

She was temptation personified.

At least they were discussing his parents. That alone was enough to remind him why he needed to resist the temptation.

What would she taste like?

Something sweet, he’d wager.

“I appreciate yer understanding, but it isn’t necessary. I made my peace with my family long ago and now I do my best to…” He stopped, searching for the word.

“Avoid them?” she asked with a smile. “Something I believe I understand as well.”

That made his smile too. “I suppose ye do.”

She tapped his biceps then, her body close to his. “Laird McLaren.”

“We’re family, remember,” he replied. “Ye call me Ewan.”

Her tongue darted out, licking her upper lip, which only caused him to think again about how she might taste. “Ewan.”

His name on her lips sent a lick of pleasure down to his manhood. “Yes?”

“I…” She drew in a breath. “I wanted to ask.” She shifted, her body brushing his again. “Are you…” That tongue again. It swiped along her lip. His insides were tightening, his gaze fixated on her pink tongue. “Are you married?”

A growl erupted from his throat, rising from deep in his stomach. Why would she ask that? Was it another question that was innocent enough, like where was his home, or did she have intent?

He looked down at her. She was a woman all alone in the world, of course she wanted to marry, should marry. But not to him. “I am not.”

Both her hands were wrapped about his bicep. “But surely you need an heir.”

He straightened then, moving away from her. This was not a conversation he wished to have. He’d help her yes. But not by marrying her. “Eventually.”

Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. He watched as she began to worry her bottom lip. The woman was an open book.

They started walking again and for a few minutes silence fell, but as they turned at the aft of the boat, her fingers began to move on his skin again. It felt far too good for his liking. “If you were interested in marriage, would you consider my hand?”

He nearly tripped on his own feet. Her question was direct, he’d give her that. He looked over at her profile and the very idea of her in bed with him made him ache with longing.

The woman was perfect in nearly every way. Would he consider bedding her nightly? Absolutely.

Did he wish to be married to an English rose the way his father had? Definitely not. He’d always planned to marry a Scottish woman when he eventually wed, which was years from now. However his father had gone about marriage, Ewan intended to do the opposite. “Lass,” he started, their feet stopping again. “I want ye to understand that I don’t intend to wed for quite some time. My work keeps me at sea, constantly away. It’s not an ideal situation for wedded bliss.”

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “I see your point, but may I counter?”

Feck. She wasn’t going to drop the point. “Fine,” he pushed out through clenched teeth.

“We are not a love match. I will be eternally grateful for your protection, your support. I’ll give you as many children as you desire and ask little in return. I am well trained and well suited to be the wife of a successful man. One might argue that I’d make an ideal candidate.”

Well, articulation was certainly a point in her favor. She’d made several good ones, actually. “Try to understand, I am already a Scottish laird who is half English.”

“Oh,” she replied, her face falling. He almost regretted the words; he didn’t like to see her unhappy. “I see. You wish for a Scottish bride.”

He gave a tentative nod. “But don’t worry. We’ll find ye a suitable husband who will protect ye sufficiently.”

But even as he said the words, his gut went sour. The very idea of another man protecting her, touching her, filled him with dread. She was scared. What if this man was too rough? What if he lacked the tenderness to draw her out of her shell?

Or what—and his entire body clenched at the idea—if the opposite occurred and she opened like a flower for this other man?

Jealousy ripped through him like a hot knife. When had that emotion crept in? And how did he get rid of it?