“Ye had better. Ye need yer rest.” He moved her hand so that he held his on the other side and then he slipped an arm about her waist. “I’m sorry we can’t go away now. I promise I’ll make it up tae ye.”
She gave him a glowing smile. “I don’t care about that. You’ve work here. It’s important and I am proud to be married to a man who takes it as seriously as you.”
They’d nearly reached the crowd that was huddled about a large bonfire. Food tents had been erected and bagpipes played off to one side where people were dancing. At Stone’s gesture, the entire party seemed to stop and everyone turned to them.
Stone straightened his shoulders and squeezed her waist tighter. “I’ve an announcement tae make.” He called. “I’d like tae introduce you to the new Lady Alban.”
His voice boomed over the crowd and it was met by a cheer that shook the ground under them. “As a wedding gift tae all of you, I’m providing ale fer all of ye to toast the momentous occasion.”
Another, louder cheer, shook the ground. Eliza thought she might burst from happiness. “You sounded quite confident, and dare I say happy, addressing that crowd.”
He grimaced at her. “You’ll be in charge of that from now on. But I am happy. Happy to be married to ye.”
“Me too,” she whispered. In the end, Stone won. They didn’t stay for long. Ale would keep the partygoers company and they had a new bed to try.
Wicked Laird
Brethren of Stone
Tammy Andresen
One family united by loss, driven to find love
After the death of their parents, six siblings unite around their eldest brother, Stone. They consider blood a binding oath and vow to protect one another. They all must face their own demons as they find love and their places in the world.
CHAPTER ONE
Blair Sinclair stood in the early morning light, surveying the land that now belonged to him. The vestiges of winter still clung to the landscape, but the air smelled of spring. Its scent filled him with hope. He was on the right path for the first time in a long time.
He raked his hand through his hair as memories of his mistakes filled his thoughts. The parade of women he’d wasted time with, the one woman who’d tossed him aside, and the death of his parents that had jarred him into facing some hard truths.
Shaking away the memories, he focused on the present. His eyes swept to the east where he could just catch a glimpse of the ocean. This was the Highlands and the laird who’d maintained the land before him had failed. It was a difficult and sometimes unforgiving landscape. But Blair would not fall prey to this place the way the last laird had. Not just because he wouldn’t try to farm this land, or raise sheep on it, at least not for a profit. He was sure to succeed because he was the next branch of the Sinclair Shipping Company. And because he would will it into being if it came to that.
He stood straighter, filling his chest with clean Highland air. He would be part of his brother’s business, but he had done this on his own. Saved and scraped until he could buy the perfect piece of land on a beautiful harbor.
As his eyes sought the water again, he caught a flicker or a flash of light. He’d grown up on the ocean and knew that it was the sun glinting off a white sail. Blair had yet to put in docks, or purchase the ships that would join his brother’s fleet. So who was sailing into his harbor?
There was only one way to find out. He brushed the dirt from his kilt and started down the path that would take him to the water’s edge, mildly relieved to have a break from the monotonous task he was trying to complete. He’d been using a scythe to cut back the weeds from around the caretaker’s dilapidated cabin.
It would take all his money to get the harbor ready to begin shipping. And though his brother, Stone, had offered, he refused to take aid from his family. He was a man who could support himself. So that meant, for now, making the small cottage his home. He couldn’t afford to renovate or staff the crumbling manor that came with the land.
Not that he cared. His brother was the Earl of Alban. His title literally meant stone. And though the name likely came from the rocky cliffside they called home, the Sinclair clan was about as hard-headed as they came. A point of pride for them, really.
He’d push his way to success no matter the cost.
Making his way down the slope that led to the beach, he caught sight of a tiny sailboat once again. It listed to one side, its angle at odds with the waves. Narrowing his gaze, he watched as the sail dipped into the water. He heard the cry, so faint, it might have been a gull. Or a person, who’d just been tossed into the near freezing water.
Redoubling his efforts, he barreled down the rest of the path and stripped his shirt as he ran. He barely noticed the cool morning air as he pushed his feet through the sand. The boat was still afloat but sinking, and as he moved closer he could see someone clutching at the mast.
It was an older boy, he’d wager by the size and the sound of the voice, wearing a floppy fishing hat on his head. Why the lad didn’t swim in Blair couldn’t say, but as the lad screamed again, Blair knew he was getting in the water. Hell and damnation.
“Help,” came the cry.
Diving in, Blair ignored the blast of cold as he began taking long, smooth strokes, cutting through the water, slicing beneath the waves. He was an excellent swimmer, but the little boat was sinking quickly and now only the boy’s head remained above the water. “Kick,” Blair yelled, not stopping to see if the boy obeyed.
“I can’t, my—” But Blair’s head went back under the water as he made a final push to reach the boy and he missed the rest. Taking one last long stroke, he made it to the boat, just as it sank below the surface. The boy reached up with one arm, his head just rising out of the water as Blair grabbed his elbow. “Let go of the mast,” he yelled over the rush of the surf.
He did and Blair pulled him through the water, intent upon putting the boy on his back and swimming to shore.