Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Six

Three days wentby where Sophie barely saw Ewan. She heard him come in late at night and leave before the sun rose, but he never worked at the desk in the cabin they shared as he said he would nor did he take any meals with her or bring her out on the deck again.

She sighed. It had been dreadfully boring.

Which was the last emotion she’d expected to feel when she’d snuck from her parents’ house in the dead of night. She hadn’t even changed for fear of alerting a servant to her plan. She’d expected danger, fear, discomfort, but boredom…that hadn’t made her list.

She sighed as she rested back on the bed. A handsome titled laird of Scotland had rescued her from danger and now she sat in his cabin, pining away for company.

A knock sounded at the door, and she sat up again, her breath catching. Had he come? “Come in,” she called as she stood.

The door swung open and Cookie stood on the other side, holding a tray. “Yer dinner, my lady.”

They’d taken to calling her that, the entire crew. She’d tried to protest, but Ewan had insisted. He’d whispered that his cousins were all titled ladies and that it helped the crew to see her as untouchable.

As always, he was meticulous in her protection.

“Thank you,” she replied as he set the tray down and then turned to go. “Cookie. Wait.”

The man turned back to her, his brows drawn together as he didn’t quite meet her eye. “Wait fer what?” He took a half step toward the door. This was the man who’d fed her on the first night, hardly able to take his gaze off her. Why was he trying to escape now?

“I’ve been in this cabin alone for days. Please stay for a minute and chat.”

He pulled his sailor’s cap from his head, holding it in his hands. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but I’ve got a lot of work to do and his lordship says…” The man trailed off.

“What does his lordship say?”

He twisted his hat. “We’re not supposed to talk to ye, my lady.”

She sighed. No wonder everyone had avoided her even when she was on deck. “Can I just ask you a few quick questions?”

“Like what?” he asked, his gaze snapping to hers.

“My…cousin. Does he like running the business?”

Cookie’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t say.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. It had been a silly question. Of course, he didn’t tell the cook about his general state of happiness. But when they’d been on the deck, she’d sensed some underlying tension and she’d wished to know the cause. Perhaps if she did, she’d successfully convince him to marry her. And because, well, if she were honest, she cared to know. “Right. Thank you for answering.”

“I do ken that he’s damn good, I mean darn good at it. I ‘ear he’s one of the richest men in Scotland or England, even dukes can’t surpass him.”

Sophie started in surprise. Richest man in Scotland or England? No wonder he didn’t want a runaway bride who no longer had a dowry and no connections. She hung her head as she thanked Cookie.

“My pleasure,” he answered before turning toward the door. “Enjoy yer dinner.”

But the truth was, she picked at the food, barely tasting it. Her thoughts were full of Ewan: his assertion he’d marry a Scottish woman, his status, but also his comments about his parents.

His mother, he’d said, remained in Scotland to spite his dead father. What sort of person did that?

Had Ewan’s parents been as callous as her father?

After taking several more bites, she left the cabin to walk about the deck. The sun was setting, and she could use the fresh air and exercise.

Admittedly, she also wished to see Ewan again. As though actually seeing him would provide answers to her questions.

She knew they were unlikely to actually talk. They hadn’t spoken since she’d proposed matrimony between them.

With a sigh, she started up on deck. At least the sea air might clear her thoughts.

* * *

Ewan knewthe moment she stepped on deck. He sensed her before he saw her, which sounded ridiculous, but it was true. Tension knotted his muscles even before a single sailor called out a greeting to her.

And then several did. He turned toward the hatch and there she was.

The setting sun turned her golden hair into a halo around her head as she smiled angelically at him.

His chest tightened. Though he’d told himself not to, he’d done little else but picture her as he considered her offer.

He’d made lists in his head of all the reasons he shouldn’t take her to his bed and make her his wife.

First, he knew arranged marriages were a disaster. He’d already lived through one. Second, he had a plan, a good one, to avoid the worst of marriage. Third, he was already half English. Not that he cared about the bloodline that much, but he’d been raised in Scotland. His parents had fought endlessly about how his father was a Scottish beast who offended her English sensibilities.

Which led him to all the reasons he wanted to consider Sophie. He was half English and spent a great deal of time in England, and she, while also an English rose, was nothing like his mother. While his mother was spiteful and vindictive, Sophie was honest, kind, and forthright. Granted, she had a penchant for trouble, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

He scrubbed his face as he looked at her standing in the glow of the sun. He was justifying why he might keep her for himself when he knew he didn’t want to marry now. But he’d never, in his life, wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. He was burning for her.

And every time he saw her, she stoked the fire a bit higher.

Instead of coming toward him, she turned toward the rail, leaving him to watch her retreat and the sway of her backside.

His jaw clenched. He’d been dreaming of the shape of her every night as he listened to the soft sighs of her sleep.

They were nearly in Edinburgh and then they could turn back to England where he could deposit her with his cousin and never have to hear or see her again. Except in his dreams.

Without thought, he started stomping across the desk to where she stood. To what end, he had no idea but seeing her, he couldn’t ignore her any longer. And as she leaned on the rail, her hips cocking to one side, his fists closed into tight balls.

“Sophie.” His voice came out rough and craggy, but rather than look frightened, she turned to him with a sweet smile.

“Ewan.”

How did one woman saying his two-syllable name cause a riot inside his body? He stopped, still several feet away, not daring to move any closer. “What are ye doing up here?”

Her smile slipped. “You said I was free to move about the ship.”

He cursed himself. He had told her that she was welcome on deck whenever she wished, and he’d hurt her in even suggesting she shouldn’t be here. “Ye are,” he said as he stepped closer. “We’re about to enter the inlet where Edinburgh is located. There’ll be extra activity on deck. Be careful.”

She smiled again with a nod of gratitude. “Thank you, as always, for your concern. Much appreciated.”

He gave a stiff nod in reply, inwardly cursing himself for being a cad. She was always so genuine and appreciative while he was completely selfish. “In the morning, let’s take you to shop for a bonnet. I’m sure ye could use the time off the boat and…”

But he didn’t finish as she beamed a smile in his direction. “Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

Ewan looked at her, his mouth dry. Did he have this all wrong? Was the perfect woman staring him directly in the face?

She’d offered herself to him. His. All his.

His spine stiffened as he looked down at her, stepping closer. He remembered the gentle brush of her body, the heat of her, her softness. What would her hair feel like? Her skin? He wondered again how she might taste.

“When we’re off the boat,” he murmured low, so no one overheard. “I want ye to stay by my side.”

He heard her rush of breath as her eyes widened. “Of course,” she said, her hands fluttering. “You are my family, after all, and I need to be properly escorted.”

He shook his head. Family.

Not that he didn’t wish to be better acquainted with her. He did. In fact, he ached for it.

Which was exactly why he needed to turn around and get back to work. A lifetime of avoiding matrimony could not be undone in a few days by one pretty stowaway.

But his feet stayed planted. Because she didn’t look like a criminal or act like one either. In fact, she appeared far more like an angel.

“I’m excited to see Scotland. I’ve never left England before.” She pointed toward the shore. “The shoreline is breathtaking.”

“It’s colder here,” he grunted. “Though I imagine just as grey.” His mother would swear the weather was worse. That everything was worse.

“Is it?” She gave him another of those radiant grins. “With a warm gown, I hardly notice.”

Had she read his mind?

Did she know that his mother incessantly complained about the weather and she’d endear herself to him by being optimistic about his home?

Of course, she wasn’t. Sophie didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body.

“I should return to work, but I’ll fetch ye just after breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Wonderful. Thank you,” she said as she turned back to the view. He stood looking at her back and her thick halo of hair several more moments than was necessary before he finally turned around back to the crew.

Perhaps sleeping in a hammock would be best tonight after all. He didn’t think he could stand the torture of listening to all her little noises. Of being so close and not touching her.

Then again, he wasn’t certain he could stay away.