Page 2 of To Wed a Laird
Rose stared at her father for a long moment, realising that she had just been dismissed and was now expected to go and follow his orders. She had never been rebellious, but suddenly, she found the courage to growl defiantly, “And if I do not?”
James Tewsbury’s expression changed from one of smugness to one of rage. His eyes were black with anger as he took a step towards his daughter.
“There are debts to be paid,” he said menacingly. “And if you do not help pay for them, then your sisters must. We are in a desperate situation, and you must do your part to help us out of it. Now get out of my sight!”
That was why she was now seated in the jolting carriage in this damp, inhospitable land where the natives were uncivilisedsavages who despised their English neighbours. They even had a special name for them: Sassenachs.
Yet, her father had sent her into this land of uncouth heathens who hated her country folk so that she could pay for his sins.
Rose knew the cause of those debts; her father’s incessant gambling and his foolish investments in risky ventures into which he had been duped by people masquerading as friends.
He had sold everything of any value in their house, including her mother’s jewellery, which had been so precious to her and her sisters. Now he was reduced to hiring his daughters out as servants. She had always loved her father, in spite of his faults, but she hated him now.
The carriage crested a hill and trundled downwards towards the great, dark, looming mass of Inverrigg Castle, and Rose’s terror increased the closer they came to it. Finally, they rumbled over the drawbridge and emerged into a huge courtyard.
The driver jumped from his seat very quickly and held out a hand to help Rose out of the vehicle. He bowed to her and mumbled, “Good luck, Mistress. You will need it.” Then he scurried away before she could reply.
Rose watched for a moment as her trunk was removed from the carriage, then turned to enter her new home, wishing there was someone to escort her, since she had no idea where to go.
Then she turned and caught her breath as she saw a figure standing on the steps that led into the castle. This must be Laird MacTavish, she thought, swallowing nervously.
He was one of the biggest men Rose had ever seen, powerful and muscular; indeed, he looked like a warrior from ancient legendary tales. His jet black hair was tied back with a leather thong. There was a livid white scar along his jawline, and even from fifty yards away she could see that his eyes were a vivid blue, staring at her from under heavy black brows.
Yet, Rose was not afraid of him. Rather, she was awestruck because he was utterly magnificent.
CHAPTER ONE
The carriage driverurged the horses into a canter, and they clattered over the drawbridge and disappeared into the fog and rain, breaking the last thread that tied Rose to her old life. Now she was alone with no one to lean on, and no one to support her but herself. She felt as if all strength and hope had been drained from her, but she knew she would have to find it again, and quickly. Then she reminded herself that she had been able to stand up for herself before. She could do it again.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and began to walk towards the figure standing on the stairs. His gaze seemed to bore into her, affecting her so much that her knees began to feel weak. Briefly, Rose wondered what he was thinking. Was he regretting his decision to employ an Englishwoman?
However, there was no time to think about it any more. A few more steps brought her face-to-face with Cormac MacTavish, and she curtsied politely and gave him a faint smile, which was not returned.
Now Rose could see the dark bristles on his cheeks and appreciate the sheer size of him. She began to tremble inwardly and forced herself to tilt her head back so that she could see himproperly, then became captivated by the intense blue of his eyes. He certainly was a fine-looking man.
This close, she could see his well-defined features; high cheekbones, firm square jaw, a long, aquiline nose and perfectly shaped, full lips. There was a dimple in the centre of his chin, into which Rose was tempted to put the tip of her forefinger just to see what it felt like. Then she gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to focus again.
For a moment she hesitated, then lowered her gaze to the ground for a few seconds. “My Laird,” she said, trying to sound confident and unafraid. “I am Rosemary Tewsbury. I believe you are expecting me.”
MacTavish nodded to her in acknowledgement, then beckoned her to follow him. He strode along so fast that Rose had to break into a trot to keep up with him, but he did not slow down, even though he could see that she was struggling.
Rose was angry and breathless, but was determined not to let him see her discomfort.
They stopped a hundred feet inside the castle where a pleasant-faced elderly woman stood, apparently waiting for them. She was not tall, but she had a firm, upright posture, and looked as though she would stand no nonsense from anyone. She had a head of thick white hair and her blue-grey eyes were smiling at Rose kindly, despite her no-nonsense appearance. There was something motherly about her, and Rose liked her at first sight, knowing somehow that they would be friends.
The woman stepped forward and held her hand out. “I am Mrs Brodie,” she said as she grasped Rose’s hand. “But ye can call me Nell. Everybody else does.”
Rose smiled. “I am Rosemary Tewsbury.” She heard her voice trembling a little, still nervous. “Call me Rose, please. I am so pleased to meet you.”
Nell gave Rose’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then they both turned to the Laird as he began to speak. His voice was a low-pitched rumble and seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his broad chest.
“Let me tell you about your duties,” he began. He squared his shoulders and folded his arms, then took a deep breath. “You will look after my daughter, Elspeth, and she needs a very firm hand. She has had half-a-dozen governesses already, but each one has been driven away by her wild behaviour. I have told her I will not tolerate this anymore. I have employed you because you are an Englishwoman like her mother, so I think you may succeed where others have failed.”
He paused and looked down at her for a moment, and Rose fancied that she saw a softening in his expression, but it was fleeting, and a few seconds later, he said, “I will supply anything you need to take care of her, but be warned, she does not submit to discipline easily. I was told by your father that you have two younger sisters, so you have some experience and understanding of dealing with young lasses. Is that right?”
“It is, My Laird,” Rose replied. She had crossed her hands behind her back so that he would not see them trembling, and now she tried to smile at him, although Cormac MacTavish’s grim expression did not change.
“If you have any other needs, please ask Nell,” he ordered. “She has my authority to give you all the help and advice you need.”
