Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Eight

Sophie’s thoughts spun wildly,Ewan’s arm the only thing keeping her upright.

How could her life in London have followed her here? And so quickly? Her feet moved as Ewan led the way, his strong arm about her still. She leaned into him, drawing on his support.

How would she have survived any of this without him?

The thought made her near trip on her own feet and he tightened his grip, then hugged her against his side. She leaned further into his strength. Her father would soon find out she’d been in Edinburgh, that she’d travelled on a Carrington Ship.

Of course, he’d also think that she was married, so…

“Ewan,” she whispered, her arm going about his middle. For a man so large, his waist was rather lean. “What am I going to do?”

He put his other arm about her so that he half carried her as they continued down the street. “I told ye, lass. I’d do the scheming, didn’t I?”

He stopped walking and she stopped too, her head coming to his chest, likely crushing her new bonnet. “You did. But I don’t see how I’ll get through this. What man would possibly marry me quickly enough to—”

His chuckle cut off her words. “You underestimate yer own appeal. What was it Tidemore called you? A diamond?”

She shook her head. “It was a silly article about me being a diamond of the first water.”

Once again, he brought a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Diamonds have all the choice in the world.”

She shook her head. “No, they don’t. Diamonds get put on whatever man’s hand that can either buy them or steal them. Hughes couldn’t purchase me, so he set about theft.”

“Well,” Ewan growled. “I have it on good authority that he makes a habit of such behavior.”

She blinked again. What did that mean? “How do you know Mr. Hughes?”

He shook his head. “I’ll tell ye tonight. Right now, we’re discussing diamonds and their distribution.”

The word struck her odd and despite the situation she laughed. Though to be fair, she frequently reacted to tension with jokes and laughter. “And how are we going to create a new transaction for me? My hand? I no longer have a dowry. I don’t offer the same connections I once did.”

Ewan looked down at her, his face dropping close. “Ye’re so beautiful, Sophie. Kind, honest, sweet, forthright. Do ye ken how many men would be honored to have such a woman in their lives?”

His words filled her with warmth. But nearly as quickly it left again. “I’ve spent two years trying and failing to find the right man, to no avail. How will I find him now?”

And then he did something completely unexpected. Lowering his chin, he angled his mouth over hers even as his fingers slid gently over her cheek. His lips were soft, warm, and achingly sweet as he gave her a light kiss.

There was no fear. If anything, she’d never felt safer. A low ache started between her thighs as his lips slowly pulled away. “Sophie,” he murmured, with an intimacy that stole her breath. “Ye offered yerself to me a few days ago. Does that offer still stand?”

For a moment she couldn’t breathe as her thoughts struggled to catch up. Her mouth opened but no words came out. “You…want to marry me?”

“Exactly,” he answered with a quick nod. “I told Tidemore that we were wed. Gave him my name. I regularly travel to London. Yer father can track me down.”

The air she’d been holding in her lungs whooshed out again. Because she’d believed for a moment that he wanted her. Cared for her. He’d talked of her beauty and…in a heartbeat she realized how much she’d come to depend on him, trust him. Ewan was the force between her and the rest of the world.

But more than that… she had feelings for him. Trust and attraction. And he proposed marriage, which filled her with a breathless excitement for the span of a moment…

But he’d offered because he didn’t have a choice. Not because he returned her affection.

“Ewan, I appreciate the offer, but I know I’m not your first choice.”

He squinted down at her. “Actually, ye are.”

“I am?” She tightened her hand around his waist.

“What I said is that I didn’t wish to marry at all, but I eventually would fer no other reason than to fulfill my obligations. And while the timing is less than ideal, I find ye suitable, especially considering the arrangement ye proposed.”

She’d proposed? Her stomach flipped. She had proposed an arrangement. One of detached commitment and mutual need. Nothing more.

But that arrangement felt hollow, empty, and heartbreaking in this moment. She needed Ewan, yes. But she wanted him too. So much so that she was beginning to ache from it. And now he’d offered her a loveless, soulless bargain. Part of her wished to refuse simply because she had everything to lose in this agreement.

But she had nothing to gain by walking away. She’d ended up here because she’d refused a match already. She’d run out of choices.

But as she stared up at him, she realized several points of fact.

She was safe, and she’d be cared for physically, certainly. But her heart? Ewan may very well be the man who smashed that organ into a tiny million pieces.

* * *

Ewan stoodin front of the Blacksmith’s shop, Sophie tucked into his side.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as he watched a myriad of emotions that he didn’t understand flash across her face. She’d made this proposal to him. Had she changed her mind? “I’m sorry to press, but I’m going to need an answer.”

She blinked several times. “An answer?”

“As to whether or not yer consenting to marry me. It’s all right if ye don’t want to, but it does mean we’re going to have to find ye another suitor very soon.”

Surprise widened her eyes even as the words filled his mouth with a bitter taste. He hated the very idea of turning her over to another man even as he knew he shouldn’t be taking her for his own.

Too late.

He’d passed the point of return.

“Sophie,” he said again as she stared at him. What had happened between now and her proposal to make her hesitate so? Was she regretting what she’d asked? Was she upset that he’d been avoiding her company? She’d been fine all morning. “Do ye wish to marry me?”

She swallowed, her fingers splaying out on his shirt. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want to marry you.”

He gave a single nod, relief flooding through him. Which came as a surprise. Was he that concerned she’d say no? Or did he just want her that much? “Verra good.”

Looking into the blacksmith’s open-air shop, he waved at the man. “Mr. McCallister,” he called as the man straightened. “Good to see ye.” Ewan knew the man a bit. Not well. But he’d chosen this blacksmith because he’d done some business here, so the man was unlikely to refuse him. “Is there any chance ye can perform a ceremony fer us today?”

The man looked from Ewan to Sophie and gave a single nod. “Course,” he grunted. “Ten shillings and yer hands will be tied over my anvil.”

Sophie gulped, an audible sound that echoed in his ears. “Now?” she asked in a low whisper.

They could wed on the boat. Most of the men would not raise a brow at him marrying a distant cousin, but somehow a wedding here and now seemed easier and more efficient. And, honestly, gave him less time to think through the decision he’d made.

Not that he’d change his mind, but all the same, best to just act.

He turned away from the blacksmith. “What better way than this? Everyone will assume we eloped from the start.”

She gave a tentative nod. “Will I stay in Scotland afterward?”

That was an excellent question, and one he’d yet to decide. Truth be told, he hadn’t planned much beyond the next five minutes. “We’ll discuss all of the living arrangements as soon as we return to the boat.”

She gave a tentative nod. “I trust you.”

Those three words calmed his rolling gut. She’d be his wife. His to have, to protect. He’d make certain her trust wasn’t misplaced. “Good.”

Then he stepped into the shop and dug out the shillings. The blacksmith took the funds and stepped over to a water pump washing his hands and face. Somehow, that seemed worse, watching the man who was about to wed them bathe. It was a reminder that this was no church ceremony. Banns had not been posted, and no witnesses would attend.

He looked at Sophie in her ill-fitted wool dress and his frown deepened. She should be wearing the most beautiful gown of pale blue silk or taffeta, not a dress he’d purchased second hand at a market in Grimsby.

Sophie was a diamond of the first water. She deserved the best and he’d have to find a way to rectify that in the future.

Her fingers trembled slightly in the crook of his arm. “Are ye all right?” he asked, bending close.

She nodded. “I’m wonderful.” Then she smiled, large and wide, but the grin didn’t make it to her eyes.

He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the blacksmith returned with a ribbon in hand.

Waving them over to the anvil, he swept off the black block and pointed down. “Lass, put yer hand down first.” Then he looked at Ewan. “Yers on top.”

They did as he bid and with his hand on top of hers, the blacksmith tied a ribbon around both their wrists.

He started to speak, of love and commitment, the words pelting Ewan like tiny blade cuts. The decision had been a rash one, but the consequences were for the rest of his life.

Something Sophie was familiar with, he’d reckon. She’d run away wearing nothing but a ballgown, changing her future forever.

He said his vows and Sophie followed, her gaze cast to the ground.

Then the blacksmith clanged his hammer on the side of the anvil. “Ye’re man and wife now.”

Ewan’s fingers clutched Sophie’s.

He’d not planned this, but he wasn’t sorry she belonged to him either.

He’d care for her. See her situation righted. Give her every luxury he could offer.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to her that he’d offered her a loveless match, but then again, it was far better than what might have happened to her.

This marriage of convenience would have to be enough.

With that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

Soft and warm, her lips were like pillows, her breath sweet and clean. He inhaled her scent, closing his eyes. He hadn’t had a choice. He’d saved her, he told himself.

When he pulled away, he looked down into her worried gaze. Did she know about his uncertainty about his decision? Had he done the right thing in taking her for his own?

It was too late to question his actions now. But as he returned the ribbon, he wondered if he should have given her more time, more choice?

Would she grow to hate him exactly as his mother had his father?

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

It was a distinct possibility.