A Scottish wedding was always a magical event. Lydia entered the old stone kirk on Castle Kincade lands. She clung to her father’s arm as he walked her to Brodie, who stood proudly at the altar, his plaid kilt showing off his legs in a way that made her blush. Her father paused at the front of the church with her, and the two men shared a look of understanding before Brodie nodded at him.
Her father kissed Lydia’s cheek, and she blinked away tears as she joined Brodie before the altar. The ceremony was a blur of smiles and happy tears for Lydia as she spoke her wedding vows. She only had eyes for Brodie.
When it was over, they gathered in the kirkyard with their friends. In that moment, Lydia felt as though she could ask for nothing more of the world. She had a family who loved her and a Scottish rogue who worshipped her. It was as though every dream she had buried in her heart had been brought back out into the light.
Brodie curled an arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Happy, my love?”
She gave him a smile that could barely contain her bursting happiness. “I don’t think it’s possible to measure my happiness,” she confessed.
Brodie turned her fully to face him as he cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “My love for you rivals the depths of the seas and extends beyond the stars themselves.”
It never ceased to amaze her how much he had changed in the weeks leading up to their wedding. He’d become a happier man, a true romantic, and yet he was still that same wicked rakehell in their stolen moments together. The ghosts that haunted him from his past were starting to fade, leaving behind a man who enjoyed life.
Lydia curled her fingers into his cravat and pulled his head down to hers to steal a kiss.
“Dance with me tonight?” he asked.
“Where?” Lydia giggled.
“Anywhere.” His eyes smoldered as he added, “How about our bedchamber? I would love to see you dance like I did that night in the inn, for me and me alone.”
Lydia grinned. “Will it tempt you, my darling Scot?”
“Aye. Always.”
Rafe watched Brodie and Lydia whisper to each other in the kirkyard. He wasn’t one to applaud marriage as a rule, but in Brodie’s case, the man sorely needed it.
“Papa?” Isla’s voice broke into his thoughts. Isla stood next to him, wearing a pale-blue satin gown with an orange sash tied into a bow at her back. Her hair was only partially pulled back by ribbons. She’d been overjoyed to attend the wedding in the fine new clothes that he’d purchased for her.
He took her small hand in his. “Yes, kitten?”
“Can I truly call you Papa?” Isla asked. It was perhaps the tenth time this week she’d asked that same question.
Rafe had spoken to Lydia and Brodie two weeks before and had asked them if he might take the child as his ward. It had surprised them, and they had raised concerns about why a single gentleman who’d never been married would want to raise a little girl. He had replied that he had plenty of interfering relations who would no doubt be more than happy to help him do the thing properly. They ultimately agreed, so long as Isla wished for it too. And she had.
“Yes, Isla, you may call me Papa. Or Uncle Rafe. Whatever you prefer.”
Isla swung his hand back and forth in hers as she seemed to think it over. “I want you to be my papa, but I already have one.”
Rafe turned and knelt before the little girl. “You may have another papa. Just as Lydia now has a new mama. You will always have your first papa and mama.” His inexplicable connection to the child was soul deep, and he had a strange feeling that Isla’s parents, wherever they were, were watching over him. He didn’t want to let them or Isla down. For the first time in his life, someone depended on him. It was unsettling, but also exciting.
“Oh, Rafe, there you are.” Ashton and Rosalind joined them in the kirkyard. Rosalind took Isla by the hand and led her away to admire the wildflowers growing at the edges of the yard.
“How fares the child?” Ashton asked.
“Well enough. She misses her parents.” Rafe followed the child with his gaze, wanting to make sure she was safe and well.
Ashton stroked his chin, and Rafe could feel his older brother’s gaze upon him. “Rafe, are you certain you can care for this child? I’m happy to set aside a trust with plenty of funds for her, if you’d like.”
“No, I will not take money, Ash.”
“Well, that’s a first,” his older brother mused. “But if you need it, I will give it. I must admit, I’ve seen quite a difference in you these last few weeks. Dare I say you’re leaving your rakehell ways behind?”
Rafe chuckled. “I prefer to think that I’m redirecting my focus in life. Keeping that girl entertained can be a challenge. But I may have a bit of devilry left in me yet.”
Ashton laughed. “So long as you keep it far from that child, you’ll be fine.”
“I promise nothing,” Rafe said with a smirk. “Other than to vow to never see her hurt.”
“What is it about her that draws you?” Ashton asked. “She is a lovely child, of course, but you’ve never shown interest in children before. They used to terrify you.”
“They’ve never terrified me,” Rafe protested. “I simply . . . have trouble relating to them.”
“And what makes her different?”
Rafe smiled as Isla gathered a bouquet of flowers and presented them to Rosalind.
“She’s thoughtful and wise for a child. She thinks of others more than herself, despite her hardships. Doesn’t a child like that deserve to enjoy life? And who knows more about enjoying life than your dearest brother?”
Ashton smiled, but it was one that betrayed his doubts. “Yes, who indeed?”
Two months later
Aiden stared out at the cliffside landscape that draped into the sea off the coast of North Berwick. He urged his horse to race down the coastline, feeling free for the first time in days. He had left Castle Kincade to allow Brock and Joanna some time alone, and he had agreed to meet Lydia and Brodie as they returned from their honeymoon on the Continent.
He was bound for the distant docks of North Berwick. He would likely have to wait a few days, perhaps a week if the ship carrying his brother and sister-in-law was delayed, but he was glad for the time alone.
Too often of late he’d been reminded that he alone of the Kincade siblings had not married. He likely never would. But that was something he chose not to dwell on, when at all possible. The past had caused him too much pain, and he could not expose a woman he loved to the nightmares and the scars he carried.
The sun set on the horizon. The orange orb dipped behind the distant mountains and bathed the world in fire. Aiden guided his horse down the smoother slopes to better admire the view of the brightly lit water along the sandy beaches. The whispering of the surf against the shore and the cries of seabirds were soothing.
Aiden watched the black-and-white birds overhead catch a current in the air and hold steady in the same spot for minutes before they tucked their wings in and shot down into the water like arrows, only to bob up seconds later with a wriggling prize caught in their beaks. Animals were truly magnificent. He always found peace when he was near them. They acted only out of need and never malice.
He cast his gaze out at the water again and noticed large pieces of wood floating and tumbling until they washed up on shore. Something had wrecked out at sea.
Poor souls. It seemed that whatever had happened, there may have been no survivors.
Aiden rode closer to the water, examining the flotsam and jetsam as it appeared more frequently. Then he saw a body, draped over what looked like part of a mast. Long, dark hair was plastered to a red gown. It was a woman!
Aiden leapt off his horse and dashed into the surf, just as a wave carrying the woman rolled over and crashed into him. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as he struggled to catch the woman’s body. They tumbled in the waves before slamming into the sand. As the water receded, he dragged the woman up the shore a ways before he rolled her onto her back. He expected to see the hallmarks of death, a face ravaged by sun and sea. Instead, he saw an exquisite beauty, almost perfect delicate features that would make an artist weep for wanting to paint her.
He bent over her, pressed his palms on her chest in a rapid succession of beats, and then covered her mouth, breathing into her as he’d seen a man do once when a boy had been drowning near their village in a small loch. He continued to do this until her body spasmed and she expelled the seawater from her lungs. Long, dark lashes fluttered and revealed honey-brown eyes. It was like seeing a ghost. It was the woman from his dreams, the fairy princess he had known in his mind and heart for as long as he could remember.
She coughed, and her glassy gaze began to fix on him before her eyes widened.
“You. It’s you,” she said in a light accent that he couldn’t place, and then she passed out in his arms. Aiden stared at her and then the sea, watching more wreckage wash up on the shore.
“Who are you, lass?” he whispered. He lifted her up and carried her toward his horse. They would find the nearest doctor at North Berwick, and hopefully he would uncover who she was there.
But whether she was simply a woman or a fairy princess, Aiden knew he held his destiny in his arms.
Thank you so much for reading Never Tempt a Scot! The next two books in the League of Rogues series will be The Earl of Morrey (involving Gillian’s half brother and James the Earl of Pembroke’s sister Letty), and Lost with a Scot where Aiden Kincade will finally have his happy ever after!
Until they release, check out my latest historical release Devil at the Gates a lush, gothic historical romance! Turn the page to read a sneak peek about the daughter of a famous fencing master who’s on the run from an evil stepfather and stumbles into the path of a dark and brooding lord who doesn’t want to be tempted to love again…
