The Scotsman Who Saved Me

Book 1: Seven Brides/Seven Scotsmen

by Hannah Howell

Genres: American Romance; Scottish & Highlander

Synopsis

A brutal attack on Emily Stanton's family has left her for dead . . . until she is found in the woods by a handsome stranger with a thick brogue who vows to protect her. There's only one problem: As a woman with a noble English background, she has no business keeping company with such a man.

For Scotsman Iain MacEnroy, Emily's high-tone accent is a bitter reminder of the oppressive regime he left behind. The last thing he needs is to be burdened by the needs of a beautiful, blue-eyed Englishwoman. But taking care of elegant, educated Emily begins to transform Iain in ways he never imagined. Could it be that the deep divisions from the old world no longer apply in the new—and that Iain and Emily can share a passion as lush and wild as the Scottish highlands themselves?

Release date: September 26, 2017

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Arkansas Ozarks, 1860

“Is that smoke I smell?”

Iain MacEnroy glanced at his youngest brother, Robbie, who was sniffing the air like a hound tracking a wounded fox. As he opened his mouth to say just that the smell hit him. The breeze did carry the strong, acrid smell of smoke, wood smoke. Since he saw no sign that the trees they rode through were on fire he suspected someone’s cabin was burning. It was not an unusual problem but it could mean trouble for them. He halted his mount and struggled to determine where the smoke was coming from.

“We are riding right toward it,” he said. “Do we go on?”

“Aye,” said Matthew, the brother closest in age to him. “I suspicion it would be wise to ride in as if we approached an enemy.”

“Good thinking.” Iain shifted his rifle so that it was easier for him to use it if needed and nudged his horse forward in a slow cautious pace. “Stay with the wagon, Duncan. And keep a close watch out, rifle at the ready,” he ordered the brother who was barely a year older than Robbie before fixing his full attention on their approach.

The trees began to thin out but Iain and his brothers were careful to stay within the shadows. When the clearing appeared, Iain signaled a halt. He sighed when the source of the smoke proved to be a smoldering cabin just as he had suspected. He could see no bodies but they could easily be inside. To his relief he could also see no sign of the ones who had caused such destruction but then realized they could also still be inside.

“I see no sign of Indians,” said Robbie.

Iain dismounted. “Wasnae Indians. Nay sure there are any left in these hills.” He glanced at the tracks in the dirt, clear to see in the area around the edge of the clearing but tried to keep an eye on the house for any sign of movement. “Horses were shod. No arrows I can see. Wager we will find boot prints near to the cabin. I keep telling ye that the natives were driven out and we havenae heard or seen them slipping back. This was done by the vermin who slip about these hills doing what they please and none of it nice.”

“Should we have a wee look inside?”

“We will walk round the outside first and see what we can see before we step inside.” Iain stood and looked at the smoking cabin. “Robbie, ye could try throwing some water on any flames ye see. Just make sure there is no one who is a threat inside. We may need to step inside later and best if it isnae still burning.”

It was in the back of the cabin that they found the dead. Iain sighed. The woman’s body had been left obscenely sprawled, naked and bloody, at the edge of an expansive garden heavy with ripened fruit and vegetables. The man’s body had been pinned to the door and it was clear that he had been tortured. They were both rather young and Iain suspected they had once been a very handsome couple. He could see the remains of the beauty they had had before the ones who killed them had sliced up their faces. Iain had the chilling feeling that part of that torture had been forcing the man to watch as his woman or kinswoman was raped and butchered. Whoever had come here had been the worst of the worst that ran in these hills. They would definitely have to keep a watch out for them.

“Have to wonder what they kenned that the enemy so badly wanted to know,” said Matthew as he stepped up next to Iain.

“Aye, I thought the same. I also get the feeling they were nay just brutes who kill because they can. We certainly have enough of that sort in these hills. Nay, ye are right, they wanted something. Ye have to wonder what that something was that would make two people endure this. Sad as it is, it can only be good for us if this was some private fight, some very personal vendetta. Weel, best we get them buried.”

“Ye want us to bury them?”

“I will no leave them for the beasts to gnaw on. We have the time and we have the manpower to dig a grave. Get us some shovels.” He watched Matthew walk away and then moved to take the man’s body down.

As he set the man’s body next to the woman’s he frowned at the man’s hands, something catching his eye, but he was not sure what. Scowling, he used a piece of the man’s shirt to wipe the blood off the man’s left hand. The gleam of a wide gold ring sparkled in the light of the sun. That told him that the killers had not been driven by the dark need to steal. No thief worth a thought would leave behind such a ring. This was born of some private battle, he thought again. He moved to the woman, straightened her tattered clothing as much as he could and carefully wiped clean her left hand to reveal another gold wedding band. She also wore an ornate gold locket around her neck.

“Got the shovels.” Matthew cursed when he saw the locket. “So, it wasnae robbery.”

“Nay.” Iain stood up and brushed off his clothes.

“Then what reason did anyone have for killing them?”

“I think trying to find the answer to that will take us time we dinnae have.”

“But . . .” Matthew sputtered as Iain began to dig the needed grave, careful to toss the dirt away from the garden.

“There is naught we can do except do them the courtesy of burying them. It is not much but I think they have suffered more than enough already.” Iain kept digging and only glanced briefly toward his brother who began to dig as well. “Where is Robbie?”

“Getting what we have to collect up this harvest. I told him to. Sorry as we are for these folk, it makes no sense to leave good food to rot.”

Robbie arrived a few moments later. Iain could see the horror that filled the eyes of the man who was barely out of boyhood. For most of Robbie’s life there had been little bloodletting done around him, and what little he had seen still hit him hard.

“See if there are any blankets or the like in the barn, Rob,” he said. “We cannae take the time to build coffins but it would be nice if we could shroud the bodies.”

Robbie nodded, his auburn hair falling into his eyes. “Why did they not take anything?”

“They wanted these poor people to tell them something, I am thinking, and I also think they didnae get that information so they left. Go on, laddie. See if there is something we can use for a shroud.”

As soon as his young brother was gone, Iain returned to the work of digging a grave with Matthew’s help. He did not think these two people would object to sharing a grave. At least he prayed not, for he had more than enough ghosts haunting him already. By the time Robbie returned with two blankets, well-worn and smelling faintly of horses, they had dug the grave. Iain felt uneasy about just tossing the bodies in the hole so he jumped down into the grave. It just seemed so disrespectful to throw them in the hole. He had Matthew hand each one down to him. Matthew handed down the man first and then the woman, who Iain tucked up at the man’s side.

Pity filled him as he took a last look then bent to open the locket the woman wore, wanting a brief look at what she kept there. He stared at the small portraits inside. The man stood tall, well-dressed and smiling, on one side and the woman was on the other smiling sweetly down at the babe in her arms. They truly were a handsome couple and much too young to see the end of their lives.

“Jesu,” he whispered, and scrambled out of the grave still clutching the locket. “She had a bairn, Matthew.” He showed his brother the pictures.

They all looked to the cabin and Matthew sighed. “We dinnae ken how old that picture is. The child may well have died long ago.”

Closing the locket, Iain shook his head. “True enough but I have to look. I have to.” He glanced down at the bodies. “Take the rings, too, Matthew. They are the kind one would pass on to a child.” He turned to Robbie. “Did ye hear or see anything when ye were putting out the fire?”

Robbie shook his head. “Nay, but I was just looking for what needed water thrown on it. Keeping a watch on the fire took all my attention.”

“We have to look.” He stuck the locket in his shirt and started toward the house.

“They would have taken the bairn when they tried to flee,” said Matthew as he followed his brother.

“There was no child with them.”

“It isnae a big cabin. We can look close before we finish the burying.”

Smoke and ash still tainted the air inside the cabin and all three men covered their noses and mouths with their bandanas. It was clear the fire had been meant to drive the couple out of the back and they had run right into the arms of their killers. There was a sort of viciousness to this attack that he had not seen in a long time. Painful memories he resented were being stirred up.

Lost in ugly recollections he did not watch where he was stepping. Suddenly there was nothing beneath his right foot. He stumbled back but as he put his foot down more of the floor gave way. As he fell, he twisted around in time to grab at the edge of the hole that had opened up beneath him. A heartbeat later Robbie and Matthew each grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him up. Cautiously, he looked down.

“A storm cellar?” Robbie asked.

“Nay.” Iain noticed the crude steps heading down and heavy burlap bags set against the dirt wall. “Looks as if it was for cold storage or the like. Just a place to store the harvest, I think. Wonder why the people ran outside instead of down here? They might have been able to survive if they had hidden down here.”

Cautiously testing each step before putting his full weight on it, Iain went down. He could hear Robbie coming down behind him, Matthew standing watch above. Once on the ground he discovered it was not a large place. A pile of empty bags waited for more of the harvest to come in.

“No child down here,” said Robbie as he looked into the full bags leaning against the walls. “Taters and apples though. Shall we take them?”

“Aye. No sense in leaving it all here to rot.”

“Thinking we should take the empty bags, too.”

“Good thought. They can be used to collect up anything else useful, like the harvest.”

“Iain, why are ye staring at them like this? And thinking. I can hear you thinking.”

Laughing softly, Iain shook his head. “I dinnae ken. Just, weel, something about them looks wrong.”

“They are not in a tidy pile, that is certain.” Robbie stepped over to them and started shifting them. “Hey, there is a wee bit of blood on some of them and”—he yanked a couple away from the wall—“some got stuck in this hole in the wall.”

Moving to help Robbie pull all the bags aside, Iain cursed when they uncovered the hole. As they cleared away the last of the bags Iain saw more faint signs of blood. Someone had fled the house. If the men who had burned the place had taken but a little time to look around, they would have found the one who had escaped. If it was the child from the locket picture, Iain could not be sure it was still alive. Men who would torture two people as had been done to that young couple would probably not hesitate to kill a child.

“A tunnel. Whatever went down it was leaking a wee bit,” he said.

“We best follow then.”

Iain knew Robbie was right. There was a child out there, one hurt, scared, and in danger. He could not allow an old fear to rule him when a child’s life might matter. Iain struggled to use that good sense to push back the fear curdling his stomach. He knew it was not an easy fear to push back or even to control for a while.

“Ye go in first, Robbie,” he said. “I will follow. And if I falter, ye just come and drag me along. I cannae let my distaste for such places stop me from trying to help a child.”

“Then, aye, I will go first,” Robbie said even as he started to crawl inside the tunnel. “Need a light.”

Iain quickly searched the room and found an old lantern with a thick candle inside. He handed it to Robbie after he lit it and the light it cast eased the growing knot in his stomach. After taking a deep breath he followed Robbie as his younger brother crawled forward. Drops of blood led the way. The acrid smell of smoke still thickened the air they breathed. Iain fought the memories that invoked. If he let them come, fell back into the terrifying horror of crawling through a similar tight spot to save his brother, he knew he would panic. He could not allow that and he forced himself to think only of the child they might save.

Sweat pooled in the small of his back and dripped down his face. He could feel panic gnawing at his insides. He had nightmares about being stuck in small places while fire licked at his heels. It was hard to push such images away each time he found himself in a confined space. He had nearly died the last time he had been in one, had been burned badly and still carried some scars. Iain just kept reminding himself that he had survived and he had saved the life of his brother Geordie.

When they reached the small ladder that led out, Iain clenched his fists to fight his urge to run over Robbie and climb out as fast as possible. Robbie hefted the door at the top open and Iain took in a deep, soothing breath of the fresh air pouring in. When Robbie climbed out then turned to offer a hand, Iain gritted his teeth to fight the urge to race out of the tunnel like a rat escaping a flooded warren. From the way Robbie winced though, he knew he had gripped his brother’s hand harder than needed. He climbed out then stood staring at the ground as he fought to calm the turmoil inside of him.

“Are ye well, Iain?”

“Aye.” He took one deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aye. I kept my thoughts on saving the child. That is far more important than some fear I cannae shake.”

“And that worked for you. It always has. I was worried when I smelled the smoke. Too much like what set the fear in you. We all know the story.”

Iain sighed. “’Tis a fear I best conquer. It was years ago. There is no sense in clinging to it. Now, we need to look for the blood trail.”

“It looked to be a slow bleed,” Robbie said as he began to search the ground.

“Even a slow, steady loss of blood can prove fatal.” Iain looked around to see that they were just inside the stand of trees. “Ye cannae help but wonder why the mon and the woman didnae use the tunnel to flee.”

“I did wonder. I think the why of all that happened here concerns the child. Here is some blood. Looks like whatever is losing it headed deeper into the trees.”

Iain followed the trail Robbie pointed out. He was not sure a child could survive such a steady loss of blood. Slow and steady though it was, it was adding up to a lot. And why had the parents not at least bandaged the wound before sending the child off? He tried to picture the attack and slowly came to the conclusion that the parents had given their lives to protect the child. They had held off the attackers as best they could, for as long as they could, and sent their child off to safety. Had they believed the men were after the child?

“There is something odd about all this,” he said as he and his brother stopped to search yet again for the trail to follow.

“What is odd?” Robbie gave a soft cry of triumph as he found another drop of blood. “Found it.”

“Changed direction.” Iain frowned as he studied the stain and looked into the thickening wood. “Maybe the child was given a particular direction to go in. And it is odd because the child was sent off. Then there is how its parents were tortured. The men had to be after something verra specific and it had something to do with the child. Yet why would anyone be after the child of a couple farming in the hills?”

“Cannae think of any reason. More apt to be after the woman but they just used her and killed her. This way now.” He turned a little to the right. “It is strange that the men did not go hunting if they were still after the child. It doesnae appear as if they searched for it at all.”

“That would have made sense but the parents may have convinced them that the child was not there or even that it was dead.” Robbie paused and stared at the ground. “Weel, we may lose the trail now.” When Iain joined him, Robbie crouched down and pointed out the crushed grass and small puddle of blood. “I think the child realized he was leaving a trail and bound up the wound.” He stood up and wandered around looking for some hint of what direction the child took next. “So we may be hunting an older child.”

Iain stayed crouched down by the spot. It was easy enough to see where someone had sat down. Looking close, he could even see the tiny thread revealing something had been torn to make a bandage. What bothered him were the two footprints he could see. They were small but not, he thought, small enough to be a child’s. Neither was the spot where someone had clearly sat for a while. Then he saw the faint print of a child’s foot.

“Found another bit of blood, Iain,” said Robbie when he returned. “Reckon the bandage wasnae tied on correctly.”

Standing up, Iain shook his head. “Or there was more than one wound and the one doing the bandaging didnae consider it worth taking time to tend it.”

“Or didnae have enough bandages.”

“Possible. Where was the blood?” He looked where Robbie pointed and nodded. “We keep looking. I believe we will soon find the hole they crawled into.”

“They?”

“Aye.” He crouched down and pointed out the marks he had found as he said, “One set of footprints here and just there one print of a bairn’s foot.”

Robbie looked closely and shook his head. “I didnae see them. Good eyes, Iain. So we look for two.”

“Could just be one small child and one older one but, aye, two. Somewhere in these woods is a hole they crawled into to hide.”

“Then we best be moving again.”

It was slow work with only drops of blood to tell them where to go. Whoever was moving through the woods knew how to avoid leaving much of a trail. Iain hoped they found the ones they hunted soon, as the day was rapidly drawing to an end. The last place he wanted to be after the sun set was this far up in the hills near a killing site. He wanted them all tucked up safely behind stockade walls as soon as possible.

Then he saw it through an opening in the trees. One old tree had finally succumbed to age and rot. The top half had snapped off almost cleanly. That broken piece had fallen so that it angled away from the bottom of the trunk, its tangled dying branches providing a good covering for what could possibly be a hollow trunk. He was certain it was the hiding place he searched for.

If he was right, it was actually a well-chosen spot. There was shade enough to make it somewhat hidden from sight. It was not in a straight line from the cabin. Nor was it too close or too obvious. He suspected he spotted it because too much of his life had been spent making sure there was a good place for him and his brothers to hide. If he had found such a spot in his travels he would have marked it as a safe haven.

It was a good place to hide, he thought. The ones running had not run straight to it, either. If he and Robbie did not have some skill at tracking, they never would have found the trail to follow. The tree was far away from the cabin and, being in a shaded area, one that made it harder to spot.

“O’er here, Robbie,” he said as he started toward the tree and stared through the branches, searching for the opening he was certain was there.

“Should we call out first?” asked Robbie as he hurried over to Iain’s side.

“Nay, we dinnae want to startle anyone. They are afraid and hurt. They are nay about to step out and say howdy-do. They will either hide by staying silent and dug in or be scared into shooting at us.”

“Ah, aye, there is that.”

“Let us hope we find our quarry.”

Emily did not think she had ever hurt so badly, or been so afraid. She was exhausted and heartsore. Her arm burned and her leg throbbed in such a way she constantly had to bite back a cry. She knew her sister and David were dead even though she had not seen them fall but she was sure she had heard screams. They had not begun searching for their son, either. There was also no way they could have held off ten men for long, not men who had made it clear they wanted everyone in the house dead. All she wanted to do was curl up on a soft bed and cry but she had Neddy to care for.

She looked down at the boy sleeping curled up at her side, her wide skirts as his blanket. He looked so much like his father that she felt a stab of loss. David had been a good man. His son had the same thick wavy black hair, a sweet little face, and big brown eyes that could convince people to give him anything he wanted. Fortunately, he was not yet old enough to understand the power of those eyes. She prayed he was also not old enough to fully understand what had happened to his parents.

Lightly stroking his hair, she closed her eyes. They were safe at the moment. She needed someone with skill to tend her wounds but, for now, they were safe. Now was not the time to fret. Now was the time to plan. As soon as she felt sure those men who had attacked them were gone, they would run again. She just wished she knew where they could run to.

For a moment the pain in her leg and shoulder was pushed aside by the pain in her heart. Her sister and her husband were certainly dead. Every time she tried to think of them as merely wounded her mind mocked her. The shooting had ended and the taint of wood smoke still hung in the air. The last time she saw them Annabel and David were still desperately trying to hold off their attackers. Her sister had ordered her to take little Neddy and run. She had not wanted to leave them, had desperately wanted to stay and fight, but both David and Annabel had grown equally desperate in their pleas for her to save Neddy. The look in David’s eyes had convinced her to go, that look of desperate sadness. It was a plea she had had to obey and she was certain it had cost her. Tears clouded her eyes as the surety that she would never see her sister again swept over her.

She wanted to go back and look, to see if what she feared was true, but then she felt her nephew wriggle closer to her side. Emily could not risk him. If David and Annabel were dead, they had given their lives to save young Neddy, she firmly reminded herself. Done what any loving parent would do. She could not toss away that sacrifice with a foolish action, one driven solely by emotion. The sweet little boy had no skill in protecting himself.

“Mama? Papa?”

Her nephew’s query, spoken in a soft tear-choked voice, acted like an arrow to her heart. She did not know how to explain it all to him. Emily held him closer and began to sort through a number of ways to explain that Mama and Papa were gone. A flicker of hope attempted to spring to life in her chest but good sense ruthlessly smothered it. Then a sound broke through her grief-ridden thoughts.

Emily quickly hid Neddy beneath her wide skirts. The sound she had heard had now clarified itself into male voices. She sat as still as possible and listened carefully as the voices drew nearer. Her fear receded a little because the men spoke differently than the ones who had attacked her family. Those men had not had what sounded very much like a Scots accent.

That made no sense, she thought as she pressed deeper into the hole dug inside a tree hollow. What were Scotsmen doing wandering around the hills of Arkansas? Annabel had often complained about being so completely out of place, so alone despite David always being at her side. The farther west they had traveled the more separated from it all she had felt. Annabel had missed society far more than she ever did or could. She had constantly repeated stories of the places she had gone, the events she h. . .