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Authors: Sabrina York

Susana and the Scot

BOOK: Susana and the Scot
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This book is dedicated to all my readers who are fearless Scottish lasses at heart. May you find an untamed Highlander of your own!

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My deepest appreciation to Laura Jorstad for her copyediting genius, to the St. Martin's Art Department for such a beautiful cover, and to Alexandra Sehulster for all her guidance.

Thank you, Monique Patterson, for giving Susana and Andrew this chance at love.

My sincere thanks to my fellow writers for their support along this journey. Especially Cherry Adair, Pam Binder, Sidney Bristol, Delilah Devlin, Tina Donahue, Laurann Dohner, Sharon Hamilton, Mark Henry, Desiree Holt, Cat Johnson, Elle James, Jennifer Kacey, Gina Lamm, Delilah Marvelle, Becky McGraw, Rebecca Zanetti, and so many more.

And of course a shout-out to my amazing support team: Linda Bass, Crystal Benedict, Stephanie Berowski, Crystal Biby, Kris Bloom, Monica Britt, Kim Brown, Sandy Butler, Carmen Cook, Celeste Deveney, Tracey A. Diczban, Shelly Estes, Natalie French, Lisa Fox, Rhonda Jones, Denise Krauth, Barbara Kuhl, Angie Lane, Tracey Parker, Laurie Peterson, Iris Pross, Tina Reiter, Hollie Rieth, Pam Roberts, Regina Ross, Sandy Sheer, Kiki Sidira, Sheri Vidal, Sally Wagoner, Deb Watson, Veronica Westfall, and Michelle Wilson, as well as the shy ones, Christy, Elf, Fedora, Gaele, Lisa, Nita, and Pansy Petal.

To all my friends in the Greater Seattle Romance Writers of America, Passionate Ink, and Rose City Romance Writers groups, and the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, thank you for all your support and encouragement.

 

CHAPTER ONE

July 1813

Reay Parish, Caithness Shire, Scotland

“You probably shouldna ha' kissed her.”

Andrew Lochlannach tightened his hands on the reins and frowned at Hamish. Bluidy hell. Did he need to bring it up
again
? He shot a look over his shoulder. They were riding ahead of their company on the dusty track, so none of the others could hear, but that didn't stop the sudden roil of mortification. “That is
not
why he sent us here.”

Maybe. Probably.

Hamish threw back his head and laughed. The sun glinted off his red beard. “Really? Your brother catches you in the arms of his wife's sister—her baby sister, over whom she is ferociously protective—and now here we are. Exiled.”

Something riffled in Andrew's gut. “We havena been exiled.”

“Have we no'?” Hamish threw out his hands. “Here we are, in the wilderness—”

“Reay is not a wilderness.” It was, however, nearly so, tucked away on the western border of Caithness County. Though as isolated as it was, it was one of the more prosperous baronies, even more so than Dunnet.

Andrew tried to ignore the trickle of trepidation, the curiosity that had been teasing him since he'd set out on this journey. He'd known a girl from Reay, once upon a time, loved her. Lost her. And now he would see the land from which she'd hailed. The knowledge tugged at his heart, but he thrust that familiar ache away.

“Far from hearth and home, charged with protecting the denizens of Ciaran Reay from … cattle thieves.” This last bit Hamish offered with a sniff, as though it were beneath his prowess. Then again, it was.

But their mission was much more than that. At least, it was to Andrew. His brother, Alexander, Laird of Dunnet, had trusted him with his charge. He was counting on Andrew to prevail. That faith meant the world to him.

The lands his brother had gained through his marriage had been beleaguered with an influx of miscreants and vagabonds, stealing cattle and robbing the castle stores. Several outlying crofts had been burned to the ground. In addition to the thievery of wandering bands of men made homeless by the Clearances of land to the east, there were indications that the local lairds had their eye on the parish and, with the Baron of Reay's illness—and a recent attempt on his life—they obviously had plans to claim it for their own.

They would not. This land belonged to Alexander now, and Andrew would do everything within his power to protect it. It was the reason Hannah had married Alexander, after all. To assure the security of her people.

“I canna blame him, though. For banishing you.”

“I havena been banished!”

“Imagine finding your wife's sister swooning in the arms of a rakehell.”

“She wasna swooning.” Lana was hardly a swooner. In fact, she hadn't seemed all that interested in Andrew's kiss, which was, all things considered, a surprise. And a trifle lowering.

“And not just any man. A master seducer.”

Well, yes. This, he could not deny.

“And to make matters worse, his own brother. His suave and handsome brother known for kissing every woman he sees—”

“Not
every
woman.”

“Enough of them.” Hamish chuckled. His gaze narrowed on Andrew. “And how many kisses did that make?”

Andrew shifted in the saddle. Shrugged.

“How many?”

“Ninety-nine.” A mutter.

Hamish's nose wrinkled. “Och. That many?”

“Aye.”

“I dinna realize you were so close to winning our bet.”

Andrew grimaced. Aye. Only one away. How he regretted that bet. It had been a stupid bet, made under the influence of far too much whisky. Most of his bets with Hamish were. Stupid, and made under the influence of too much whisky. He hoped one day he'd learn his lesson, but he doubted he would.

It had been this way with Hamish since they were boys. One quest after another to outdo the other in all things.

If he was being honest, Andrew had to admit, he'd accepted this particular wager because he'd hoped …

Ah, well. It had been a foolish hope.

He'd kissed ninety-nine women and not one of those kisses had ignited so much as a flicker. Not a fragile hint of the feeling he'd been searching for. In all likelihood, he would never find it again.

“I shall have to be more diligent,” Hamish said, and then he fell silent, but only for a moment. There was laughter in his voice when he added, “It's a pity you made that vow.”

Bluidy hell. He should never have told Hamish about that vow. He should have known the blighter would never let him hear the end of it.

Again, too much whisky.

Perhaps he should have vowed to avoid spirits instead of women.

Beyond his brother's vehemence when he'd discovered Lana in Andrew's arms, in that moment Andrew had had an agonizing epiphany. No matter how many women he kissed, he never would find
that
feeling again. Mairi was dead and gone, and with her, a part of him had died, too.

And now, because of a momentary desire for a kiss and a stupid bet, he'd been exiled—probably. He'd certainly lost his brother's trust, or at least a crumb of it. He swore to himself, he would never, ever allow himself a casual flirtation again. They were far too dangerous.

However, whether it was exile or not, Andrew was determined to prove himself to his brother on this mission and maybe, if he was lucky, pay back a little of the debt he owed. Alexander had sacrificed so much for Andrew—very nearly his life. If he found peace with Hannah, if he found passion and acceptance and love, it was only fitting.

The burn of envy at the thought was beneath him.

“Then again,” Hamish continued, oblivious to Andrew's inner turmoil. He often was. “If you are out of the race, that means more women for me to kiss.”

Andrew forced a grin, though it probably came out as more of a grimace. He really did wish Hamish would stop talking about that bet. He was done with all that.

“Of course, I only need three. Three more women and I will finally beat you.”

“You've beaten me before.” They were well matched, he and Hamish, in all things. More often than not, their bouts on the lists ended in a draw. They both rode, shot, and drank with equal skill. And until that kiss with Lana, and his subsequent oath, they had both excelled at seduction, too.

“Ah, but I would verra much like to beat you in
this
challenge.” Hamish winked. “I imagine there are many bonny lasses in Reay, if Hannah and Lana are any measure.” Hamish's eyes glimmered. He'd taken a particular shine to Lana, the youngest Dounreay sister, who had accompanied Hannah to her wedding. In fact, all the men in the company—including Andrew—had been attracted to her ethereal beauty. But they'd all been warned off. Even Andrew.

Perhaps, especially Andrew.

His brother's admonishment still irked him.

True, he had a reputation for seducing women, but he wasn't a beast. He could control himself. He wasn't so base that he would fall on the first attractive woman he saw. He hardly needed Alexander to remind him that Lana was his sister-in-law. His relation. Aside from that, Andrew had already reached his gloomy realization. Already made his vow.

There would be no more women in his life, in his bed.

“Ach, well,” Hamish sighed gustily, shattering his darkling thoughts. Hamish did that. It was probably why they were still friends. Everyone needed someone who could banish darkling thoughts. “I do hope there are some bonny lasses, bet or no. I doona fancy spending the next few months living like a monk.”

Andrew tried not to snort, and he failed. Hamish hadn't lived as a monk a day in his life. “Fine. But do keep in mind our true reasons for being here.” They were here to secure the lands and provide a military presence that would deter further mischief. They were not here to chase skirts.

“I shall have to ask Rory for … suggestions.” Rory, one of the men who had escorted Hannah to Dunnet, rode with their company of soldiers, returning home. “Surely he will know which of the Reay lasses are, shall we say, more amenable.”

“Shall we at least meet with Magnus Dounreay first, to determine what needs to be done to shore up the defenses, before you launch your seductions?”

Hamish fluttered his lashes. “I would never allow the pursuit of a woman to interfere with my duties.” A blatant lie, but Andrew fobbed it off. They rode in silence for a moment and then Hamish said, “You know, even though you've conceded the wager—”

BOOK: Susana and the Scot
2.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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