Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Seven

Sophie tooka large breath of air, smiling at the feel of solid ground under her feet.

Ewan led her through the crowded streets as they made their way to the milliners. With her hand tucked in his arm, she felt both safe and thrilled to be out and about. The Scottish accents surrounded her, and she smiled to hear its lyrical notes.

“Scotland is wonderful,” she said as they walked.

He raised a brow. “Spend a winter here before ye judge.”

She wrinkled her nose as she looked up at him. “Is it really that much worse than London? Grey, cold, and wet.”

He chuckled then. “That is the truth and something I’ve repeated to my mother often, but she swears that England is better. Warmer and less windy than its northern counterpart.”

“I should like to see the countryside.” She drew in a breath of the salty air. “I hear there is lots of space to roam and ride. We spent most of our time in the city, my father’s preference, but my favorite times were always the trips to the countryside.”

He didn’t reply as he steered her down the street and into a shop. A half hour later, they left with two bonnets. One made of sturdier straw, which Ewan insisted she needed on a boat because of the wind, and one of cotton.

“You’ll need far more,” he said as they left. “But this will do fer now.”

It was Sophie’s turn to remain silent. Her entire life, her father had dictated what she might buy…when, and how much should be spent on her wardrobe. Finding a husband was an expensive proposition and she wondered who might take on that expense without family.

It was more than she should ask of anyone and her gut churned to think of it. Who would help her?

Surely not the Duke of Devonhall. And she couldn’t just reenter society. She was too well known.

Which made her breath catch with apprehension. “Laird McLaren,” she started, her fingers flexing on his arm.

“Ewan,” he corrected.

“Ewan,” she started again, slowing to look up at him as they walked. “How do you think Devonhall will find me a husband? Will I be auctioned off? Will I have a say at all?”

He blinked as he stopped walking. His arm tensed under her hand. “With Isabella’s family, he made matches between them and some of his friends.”

Sophie let out a relieved breath. “So, I’d be able to meet the man first. At least ensure he’s decent before I consent to be his wife.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

His voice had dropped low. But somehow, that made him sound almost dangerous. She looked at him, her brow furrowing. Had she upset him? “Thank you for your purchases on my behalf. I know it’s not proper and I apologize I didn’t prepare better when I left.”

He stopped walking then, people streaming past them in both directions. “There is no need to apologize. Ye left in a hurry because ye were scared.”

She gave a nod as her gaze met his. “I was. I’m scared still because now my future is so uncertain. I’m not sorry, as my father values propriety over nearly everything else and he would have forced the match.” Her chin dropped. “But I wish there had been a different way.”

He placed a finger under her chin and gently lifted her chin back up so their gazes could meet once again.

For the first time since Hughes had grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, she didn’t flinch. His touch sparked a great many emotions. Pleasure, excitement, to name a couple. Tingling raced along her skin as her breath caught. But no fear. Not anymore. She’d come to trust Ewan and that felt a bit like a miracle.

In fact, she’d never felt safer with his large frame close to hers and she brought her free hand to his arm.

“I wish there had been another way as well but fear not, Sophie. I’ll care fer ye.”

Those words seeped inside her, swelling, growing until they filled her. She parted her mouth to tell him how much she appreciated everything he’d done when his gaze flitted down to her lips.

Sophie drew in a sharp breath, tightening her grip, even as energy coursed through her as though he’d actually touched his lips to hers. How would it feel?

She knew it would be completely different than the last time a man had pressed his mouth to hers. She was certain she’d enjoy the experience. Suddenly, desperation to know another kiss made Sophie sway closer to Ewan.

Was it her imagination or did his chin drop, closing the distance between them? Her lashes fluttered, her gaze moving from his eyes to his lips and back again as her heels lifted a bit off the ground.

“Sophie?” a voice called from down the street. “Lady Sophie Everclear, is that you?”

* * *

Ewan heardher name on another man’s lips as his spine snapped straighter.

He growled out a protest as he lifted his head.

He supposed it was best that he hadn’t kissed her. The interruption had reminded him that he didn’t want her for himself. That kissing and touching was for another man, but even as he thought the words, some instinct deep inside roared in protest. Sophie was his to protect.

And this interloper posed a threat.

Well, in all likelihood, he did not but reason was beyond Ewan at the moment. He’d been about to kiss Sophie, claim her, and this man, whoever he was, had gotten in Ewan’s way.

“Lady Sophie,” the man called again, moving closer.

Ewan rumbled deep in his throat as the man moved closer, his eyes perusing Sophie with a slow, knowing glance.

Had Ewan thought this man was innocent? The way the other dandy’s lip curled into a knowing grin, made Ewan wish to hit things. Specifically, the man’s face.

“Mr. Tidemore,” Sophie’s voice shook with fear and he felt her move closer. “How lovely to see you.”

“How unexpected to see you,” Tidemore replied, raising his brows. “Last I heard, you were engaged and preparing for a wedding.”

He felt Sophie start. “I beg your pardon?”

“In London. It’s been announced that the season’s most sparkling diamond has been snatched up by none other than the Honorable Maxwell Hughes.” Tidemore stopped a few feet in front of them. “Which leads me to the question of what you might be doing here?” His gaze flicked to Ewan and he took a half step back.

“I…” Sophie swallowed. “I…”

She was a dreadful liar. A fact that Ewan appreciated a great deal, but in this situation, it was a burden. And he’d made a promise to her that he’d do the lying on her behalf. A promise he meant to fulfill.

“Mr. Tidemore, what brings you to Edinburgh?” His voice was near a growl as he tucked Sophie behind his much larger frame.

The other man grimaced, his mouth dropping to a frown. “I make the trip often. Business. And you are?”

Ewan ignored the question, focusing on the information instead. Tidemore would be travelling back to London. And he knew where Sophie was. Feck.

“I didn’t realize you travelled back and forth so often,” Sophie said from behind Ewan. “How n-n-nice. I wish you safe travels.”

“Thank you.” Tidemore cocked his brows. “But that brings us back to the question,” He raised a finger. “What are you doing here?” His gaze cut to Ewan again. “As far as I know, the banns have been posted. Which leads me to wonder. Who is your companion, Lady Sophie?”

She trembled against him even as he straightened taller. Saying she was his cousin would not provide any explanation as to why she was travelling without her parents just before her wedding. Only one explanation would protect her.

Ewan hesitated for a split second. Once the words left his mouth, there was no taking them back. Tidemore would go back to London and tell all of society. But the alternative was that this man could alert her family of where she was and who she was with.

Granted, they’d be gone again, but trackable. Only one action would ensure Sophie’s protection.

“I am Laird Ewan McLaren,” Ewan said by way of answer. “And I missed yer full name, sir.”

Tidemore’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Clarence Tidemore.”

“Tidemore,” Ewan repeated as he squared his shoulders.

“McLaren,” Tidemore responded with a frown. “At the risk of being a pest—”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Ewan cut him off.

Tidemore’s frown deepened. “As a gentleman, I have an obligation. I’d like to know what Lady Sophie is doing here with—”

“Lairdess McLaren,” Ewan corrected, fully aware of the decision he’d made. Sophie started against him, a little squeak leaving her lips. He ignored her for now, focused on the man in front of him.

The other man’s eyes widened as his gaze flicked back and forth from Sophie to Ewan. “Does Max know?”

Max? Tidemore was so familiar as to refer to the bastard who’d hurt Sophie with his given name? Ewan was now certain he’d made the right choice in claiming that Sophie was his wife. This man would go straight back to London and inform her former fiancé.

And despite all of Ewan’s reservations, his need to protect her was greater than his desire to remain unattached.

“I don’t—” Sophie started, her fingers digging into the flesh of his arm through his coat.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ewan glared at the man. “She’s my wife now and she’ll stay here in Scotland with me.”

“Of course,” Tidemore said, giving Ewan an unexpected smile. “My congratulations to you both.” And then he bent in an elaborate bow. “Tell me how you met? I must confess to being very curious.”

Sophie’s cheek pressed to his outer biceps.

“My cousin is married to the Duke of Devonhall,” he rumbled. “And my other cousin the Marquess of Milton.”

It wasn’t an explanation per se, though it did explain how he might move through English society. But the reference was also a veiled threat. A warning that he had powerful family. Tidemore would surely share this information with Hughes.

“McLaren,” Tidemore breathed out in a whisper. “You…you’re part of Carrington Shipping.”

“That’s right,” Ewan replied, noting the man’s pallor had gone quite pale. What was that about? Were Tidemore and Hughes illicit business associates? “Now, if ye’ll excuse us,” Ewan pulled his arm from Sophie’s grasp only to wrap it about her waist, tucking her closer to his side. “My wife and I have a great deal of shopping to finish before we return home fer the evening.”

Tidemore nodded. “Of course. I’m glad to have seen you, Lairdess McLaren. I hope I get the opportunity again.”

“Good day, Mr. Tidemore.” Ewan would guarantee that the man never stepped foot near Sophie again.

He began steering Sophie back down the street. Not toward the docks but inland to the blacksmith’s shop.