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…
Devil at the Gates
Prologue
Dover, England - 1793
The Duke of Frostmore stirred fitfully in his bed. The sheets that clung to his skin were damp and fresh with terrible dreams that had jolted him awake. He’d never slept well when it rained, even as a boy when he’d simply been known as Redmond Barrington. There was something about the sound, the way it plinked against the windows as the wind whined through the cracks in the stones of the large old medieval manor house.
He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the darkened bedchamber. Something had awoken him, something outside his door. A soft cry came, echoing through the gloom. Redmond turned in his bed to see if his wife had been disturbed. But the bed was cold, empty.
The duchess was gone.
He shoved back the covers and pulled on his dressing gown.
“Millicent?” He wondered if she’d perhaps gone to her bedroom, which was next door. He’d agreed to the tradition of allowing his wife to have a separate room, but he’d told her from the start that he longed to share his bed each night with her. She’d been hesitant, like many a new bride, but he’d cajoled her into agreeing at last to share in the intimacy of remaining in his bed after they’d made love. Whatever had drawn her from his bed tonight? Had she fallen somewhere, gotten hurt while walking in the dark?
The stones beneath his feet were ice cold, but he didn’t mind. He liked the cold, liked the way it stirred his senses and kept him alert. He cracked open his bedchamber door and peered out into the corridor. The sound came again, but he saw nothing to indicate where it was coming from. He eased farther into the hall, still listening. Finally, he traced the sound to a bedchamber down the hall, the one belonging to his younger brother, Thomas.
“Thomas?” Redmond rapped at the door and pressed his ear to listen. There was a rush of hushed voices, followed by silence. Redmond’s heart fluttered as his mind made the terrible connection as to his missing wife and the voices coming from his brother’s room.