To Save a Laird (English Brides and Highland Vows #5)

Prologue

Anyone who knew Margot Tewsbury could confirm that once she had made up her mind to do something, it was set in stone, and nothing could change her mind. Once she was on a mission, it was effectively accomplished because her will of iron made it so.

Her latest goal was to find her sister Eliza, who had been sold to a Highland Laird by her father, a cruel wastrel whom she and her sisters despised.

Now, having suspected that their despicable father was going to negotiate for her freedom, she had sworn to herself and her sister Juliet that she would follow him.

When Juliet found out about Margot’s intentions, she immediately tried to discourage her.

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out, Margot,” she had said fearfully. “He will be absolutely furious! He might do the same to you.”

“He will not find out.” Margot’s voice was firm and decisive, her deep green eyes burning with anger.

“I will make sure of it.” She stepped forward and gripped her sister’s upper arms, looking her straight in the eye with the intensity for which she was famous.

“You know me, Juliet, and you know that when I say I will do something I usually succeed. Do you trust me?”

Juliet put her arms around Margot and hugged her tightly. “You know I do,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “But I don’t trust our horrible father. He is a monster, and he would do anything to better himself at the expense of anyone else.”

Margot sighed. “I’m afraid there is nothing we can do about that. But do I have your blessing?”

Juliet’s eyes filled with tears and she ran her hand over her sister’s dark red hair in a gentle caress. She had always loved the color of Margot’s hair and thought that its fiery hue matched her equally fiery nature.

“Oh, Margot, of course you do!”

They hugged again, both of them filled with pain and anxiety. However, Margot was also loaded with her usual stubborn determination—she was going to find Eliza or die trying.

That had been a few days before Margot left, and she had spent the time packing food and clothes for what would be an uncomfortable journey.

She would have to go on horseback, open to the elements, while her father would be comfortably ensconced in a carriage.

It was grossly unfair, but Margot hardened her heart.

It had to be borne if she were to do what she meant to.

Their home was in a county in central England, and the journey northward would take some time, she knew. Margot had no idea where she was going, but she would follow her father, even though it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

She had been unable to pack many clothes and could not afford inns, so she spent her nights wrapped in a cloak and blanket in barns or stables while her father slept in comfort and warmth.

It took weeks, and Margot had run out of money and strength when they reached the town of Inverness.

She had honestly debated giving up, but her stubborn resolve simply would not allow her to, since it went against her every instinct.

Margot knew that whatever hardship she had to endure, she would suffer it for the sake of the sisters she loved.

Thankfully, when her father’s carriage stopped at Inverness, even though it was the beginning of winter, the nights were not yet as cold as they would become in a month or so. Sleep was still possible even if her bed was made of straw.

Now she stood outside a large, grand building with marble columns on either side of a pair of polished oak doors and massive ornate corbels at the corners of the slate roof.

There were intricate carvings above the leaded windows, and the whole structure spoke of wealth and luxury.

Margot crept forward to look through one of the windows, eager to see what was inside.

She was unable to see clearly because an expensively dressed man was standing directly in front of her, blocking her view. However, she could smell cigar and pipe smoke and hear the hum of men’s voices raised in conversation and laughter.

What is this place? she wondered. I hope it’s not a brothel.

The thought made her heart leap in terror, fearing that she might be mistaken for one of the working women.

However, she forced herself forward; she could always pretend to be a servant, since her drab, dirty clothes were not exactly provocative!

Cautiously, she crept along the edge of the building towards the door, keeping to the shadows and managing to stay out of sight.

Eventually, she slipped inside, where she saw a sight she had never seen before.

Men were talking, smoking and drinking whisky, all of them seated around tables where playing cards were being dealt and shuffled around between them.

Occasionally, Margot heard a shout of triumph or a very obscene curse, but she had heard such words before, and they had little effect on her.

However, suddenly one familiar voice pierced the chatter around her—the distinctive creaky throb of her father’s speech which had grated on her ears for as long as Margot could remember.

“Please give me time to repay you. I have the money, I just need time to collect it. Please, my family is—”

Horace Tewsbury was begging in a plaintive, pathetic tone that made her shudder with inward disgust and made her thankful that no one knew she was his daughter. She realised immediately what must have happened.

Earl Tewsbury—just like his brother, James—had a gambling addiction that had always been bad, but had lately become completely out of his control.

Now he had lost the last penny he had and more, and was quite simply drowning in debt.

He was kneeling before an ugly old bearded man whose face was wearing a loathsome, triumphant sneer.

“Your family?” the man said scornfully. “Maybe you should have thought of them before you gambled your last penny away, eh, Sassenach?”

There was a chorus of derisive laughter and shouts of agreement from around them.

Later, Margot would wonder what possessed her to do what she did next.

She stepped forward and cried, “Father, what are you doing?”

Tewsbury leapt to his feet and whipped around to face her, his eyes wide with astonishment.

However, seconds later that expression changed to one of greedy, evil glee, and his eyes gleamed as he seized Margot’s arm and pulled her forward roughly. He thrust her in front of the old man, gripping her so tightly that her arm throbbed with pain, and she had no hope of escaping.

“Here,” he offered, smiling in a grovelling, sickening fashion. “Surely, this woman is enough to pay my debt? She is my daughter, and I have brought her up to be obedient and respectful. She will not defy or disobey you. You have my word on that.”

Margot felt sick as she heard her father’s repulsive, sycophantic words, and was more ashamed than ever to be his daughter.

“Ha!” the ugly old man barked out a laugh and sneered: “You are asking me to take the word of an Englishman? I would be a traitor!”

Then he narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtfully at Margot. “Mind you, she is quite bonny, and her red hair makes her look a wee bit Scottish. Hmm… good childbearing hips. She might be good for making sons—or for havin’ a bit o’ fun.”

He looked around the room to see if his view was shared, and there was a chorus of agreement. At that moment Margot’s fear was replaced by a flaring rage that lent her the strength to wrest herself out of her father’s punishing grip.

“I am not a piece of livestock!” she yelled into the face of the loathsome old man. “And I will not be sold as if I were!”

Margot cursed her uncle for having sold off his own daughters first one by one and giving her father this idea that they were his possessions to barter away at will.

The man looked shocked for a moment, then he glared at her. “Dinnae talk to me like that, you Sassenach bitch, or I will make you wish you had never been born!”

He reached out and grabbed Margot’s arm on exactly the same spot that her father had, and she screamed in agony.

Margot began to writhe and thrash against the restraint with all her might, letting out curses the likes of which she had never used in her life before. However, her efforts were fruitless, since another man stepped forward and looped an arm around her waist, pinning her to the spot.

She saw the old, ugly man dismissing her father, who smiled with evil satisfaction and gave an ingratiating bow, with a hand gesture. He turned to walk away, but was stopped in the act as a large hand landed on his shoulder.

Margot looked up to see one of the biggest men she had ever beheld in her life catching hold of his collar and pulling her father towards him, his face wearing an expression like a fierce thunderstorm.

She could not help the satisfaction that welled up in her as she saw the look of pure terror on her parent’s face. The stranger was taller and stronger than any man she had ever seen, and darker than any Scotsman, with deep brown eyes and jet black hair.

He was undeniably handsome too, but she had no time to admire him as he growled, “This ends here. Here is what you are owed. I have added half as much again to finish this disgusting matter.”

He dropped a jingling bag of coins on the table, gave Tewsbury a venomous glare, then took Margot’s hand in a firm grip and led her outside into the freezing night.