Bruard Castle, Western Highlands of Scotland, June 1824
Selina stirred from a light doze. She was warm and comfortable – and something seemed to be tickling her nose. She opened heavy-lidded eyes to see that Brock teased her with a buttercup.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmured, discarding the flower. He was stretched out beside her and leaning on one elbow so he could watch her.
"I’m sorry. I must have dropped off."
They were high on a hillside, overlooking the medieval splendors of Bruard Castle in the glen below. The summer sun shone down with almost Mediterranean heat, and the remains of a lavish picnic surrounded them.
Below, she could see figures moving around the massive keep as the household readied itself for tonight’s visitors. The Laird of Achnasheen, his lady, and their three children were traveling from the coast to spend the next week at Bruard.
As Selina drowsily surveyed the activity, two people in particular captured her attention. Plaistow now worked at Bruard and trained to take over the steward’s position when the current man retired at the end of the year. Since his arrival, Plaistow and Kitty had developed an understanding. At this distance, it was hard to tell, but she thought they just might be holding hands.
Brock bent his head toward her, then paused as she gave a great yawn. Followed by the sort of giggle Roderick Martin’s downtrodden wife would never have permitted herself.
Expressive eyebrows arched. "You’re dropping off a lot in recent days."
It was true. She was revoltingly somnolent. Most of the time, she found it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. "I’m sorry. It can’t be very entertaining for you."
A wicked light entered his dark green eyes, turned them gleaming emerald. "You’re entertaining enough when you’re awake to make up for any amount of sleeping."
"That’s a relief," she murmured and tunneled her hand through his hair, bringing him down for the kiss she’d been so rude to delay.
By the time he raised his head, they were both breathing unsteadily.
"Do you have something to tell me, Selina?" he murmured.
Shocked, she stared up into his striking features. After six months of marriage, his handsomeness still made her heart perform somersaults. "I might have."
One hand slid over her hip to rest on her midriff. "Perhaps news of a happy event?"
Her laugh held a hint of chagrin. "I don’t know how I imagined I’d keep it from you. I wanted it to be a surprise."
"It is. A lovely surprise." He leaned over to kiss her stomach. "A son or daughter around Christmas, I think."
He rested his head on her pretty yellow and white muslin skirts, above the place where her body sheltered his child.
Emotion roughened her voice, as she stroked the thick silk of his hair, warmed with the sun. "Yes. That’s what Betty says, anyway."
Betty, the estate healer and midwife, had pronounced her as healthy as a horse. Selina had great faith in Betty. Her skills had brought Erskine’s broken arm back into full working order.
"How did you know?"
Brock raised his head and sent her a knowing look.
"I’m a silly goose." Selina blushed. "How could you not know?"
"Apart from that, you’ve developed a new habit of snoring at the drop of a hat and you’ve been unwell several mornings." He cast a sly glance at the empty picnic basket. "And over recent weeks, you seem to want to eat for England."
She gave an uncomfortable laugh and struggled to sit up. "I fear I’m going to get horribly fat."
He slid his arm around her and drew her into his side. "I rather fancy a plump little pigeon in my bed."
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "There won’t be any ‘little’ about it, I fear." She snuggled closer. "Are you pleased?"
"I’m the happiest man in Scotland, my love."
"I’m glad. I’m pleased, too. Gerald is getting a little too spoiled here in the castle. A baby to divert everyone’s attention will do him no harm at all."
"He’s happy, my darling. As am I. So very happy. I couldn’t have imagined being so happy." He tilted her head up and kissed her with the tenderness that never failed to make her melt. "Thank you."
Settling into his arms, she stared down at the fairytale view below, as her memory sifted through the changes these last rapturous months had wrought. On Christmas Eve, she and Brock had married by special license, and he’d brought her up to Scotland straight afterward. She had no doubt that tongues had wagged about the scandalous start to the Earl of Bruard’s marriage. But here in Scotland, London society and its trivial concerns seemed a million miles away. She and Brock established their own kingdom where the only rule was love.
Selina had worried that Gerald might resent Brock the way he’d resented Cecil. But the two males she loved had soon established a strong rapport. When she’d expressed how pleased she was that her misgivings proved unfounded, Brock had laughed. Apparently, Gerald had confessed that he was so relieved to escape Cecil as a stepfather, he’d decided to like Brock from the outset.
Gerald’s pleasure in his new life was one of her joys. He had a tutor and a band of rough-and-tumble friends on the estate. When Brock presented him with a horse for his birthday, that only cemented his affection for his new stepfather.
But her greatest joy in her new life was the bond she shared with her husband. He’d never shown any sign of restlessness with their quiet country life, and he looked ten years younger than the cynical rake she’d sighed after at the Derwents’ house party last winter.
"You’ve made my life complete, my bonny wife," Brock said quietly, as though he, too, had been contemplating their time together. "I’d always felt like a boat drifting in a storm. With you, I’ve reached safe harbor. Now we have a new baby to add to our family. It’s almost too much. I love you, Selina."
She tipped her chin until she met his eyes. They glowed with such adoration, she blinked away tears. "And I love you, Brock."
Tender amusement filled his smile. "Over these last weeks, you’ve also been more inclined to cry."
"I know." She gave a watery giggle. "Isn’t it terrible?"
He kissed her again. "It’s going to be an interesting six months."
"I hope I’m awake to see them," she said, which made him laugh.
"I can think of something that always wakes you up. We don’t have to be back at the castle to get ready for Fergus and Marina for hours yet. May I interest you in some open-air dalliance, my Lady Bruard? I believe there’s a convenient summerhouse over the next rise."
Selina brought Brock’s head down for a more thorough kiss. "My Lord Bruard, I thought you’d never ask."
***
I hope you’ve enjoyed the latest installment in The Lairds Most Likely. If you’ve missed out on any of them, the first six books in the series are The Laird’s Willful Lass, The Laird’s Christmas Kiss, The Highlander’s Lost Lady, The Highlander’s Defiant Captive, The Highlander’s Christmas Quest, and The Highlander’s English Bride. Like all my books, each story can be read as a stand-alone. Continue reading for an introduction to all six stories, and a short excerpt from The Laird’s Willful Lass.