The Laird's Bride: A Scottish, Marriage-Of-Convenience Story

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without my express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. It may not be re-sold, copied or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting my rights and my work. Copyright © 2023 Anne Gracie E-Book ISBN: 978-0-6450151-2-6 Paperback ISBN: 978-0-6450151-3-3 Cover design by Kim Killion. Table of Contents Copyright Page The Laird's Bride THE LAIRD'S BRIDE Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Acknowledgements About Anne Gracie Dear Reader, A couple of years ago, in response to many lovely reader emails, I decided to write and self-publish a novella about Blake Ashton, The Chance Sisters series. That story became The Christmas Bride and its success was very encouraging. Thank you so much to everyone who bought it, read it and left a rating or review. I'm very grateful. The Laird's Bride was originally a short story called The Laird's Vow, commissioned back in 2010 at a maximum length of 12,000 words for the Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance (now out of print). Readers said they enjoyed my story, but that it was too short and the end was rushed — and they were right. But I liked the story and wanted to show my hero and heroine—who married as strangers—falling in love, so I decided to go back and write it at the length it needed to be, and publish it myself. It's now three times the length it was. If you read the original short story, the first third of the novella will be very familiar, but from the wedding night onwards, it's all new. Those of you who've read my other books will know that this is my first and only Scottish romance. But I've been in love with Scotland most of my life, since the age of seven, when my family moved to Scotland for my dad's job. As "the wee Australian girl" whose schoolfellows fell silent every time I opened my mouth, I soon developed a broad Scots accent, and while I was writing this story, the cadence and accents of my childhood returned to mind and made their way into this book. As well, my father's side of the family is also Scottish, and before I ever set foot on Scottish soil, I had learned to say The Selkirk Grace, by Robbie Burns, at mealtimes. When I went to school in Scotland, of course, my accent improved, and I learned a lot more of his poems and songs, including the one quoted at the end. I hope you enjoy The Laird's Bride. Anne THE LAIRD'S BRIDE A standalone, Scottish, regency-era novella –––––––– Anne Gracie Chapter One "You're letting the estate run to rack and ruin!" Cameron Fraser thundered. "Nonsense, dear boy, I'm bringing civilization to it," his uncle responded. "Thirty years I've lived here" — he shuddered — "and finally it's within my power to make something of the place." "Make something of it? You're letting it fall to pieces. The great storm was more than two months ago and not one tenant's roof is yet repaired, nor any orders given to begin. Winter's staring us in the face, and what do you do, Uncle? Order silk hangings from Paris—silk!" His uncle said earnestly, "But dear boy, quality pays. Wait 'til you see what a difference hangings will make to this gloomy room. Besides, the tenants can fix their own roofs." Cameron's nails bit into his palms. "Not without money to pay for materials, they can't. Besides, it's our responsibility — my responsibility as laird." His uncle smiled. "Laird? In name, perhaps." "Aye, I ken well it's in name only. Yet I bear all the shame for the neglect," Cameron said bitterly. "If Uncle Ian were still alive . . ." "I know. Who would have imagined he'd go before me, him being so much younger, but there it is," Charles Sinclair said. "So you'll just have to trust me. I have so many plans. Nearly five years is it not, before you turn thirty and gain control?" Cameron clenched his jaw. After his father had died, both of Cameron's uncles had been left in charge, and he'd paid scant attention to estate finances. Uncle Ian was a Fraser, and his love for the estate and its people ran bone deep in him, as it did in Cameron. But now Uncle Ian was dead and the remaining trustee, his maternal uncle, Charles Sinclair, could do as he pleased. And what he pleased was, in Cameron's view, entirely frivolous. Cameron tried again. "If those roofs aren't fixed, come winter, people will freeze. Do you want the death of women and bairns on your conscience?" Charles Sinclair returned to the perusal of silk swatches. "Your conscience is too delicate, dear boy. Peasants are hardy folk. Now, look at this design I drew for—" "You'll not spend a shilling more of my inheritance!" His uncle glanced up, faintly amused. "Dear boy, how do you propose stopping me?" "Marriage!" The word burst from Cameron's mouth, shocking himself as well as his uncle. He'd had no intention of marrying, not for years to come, but now he saw it was his only solution. Under the rules of his father's will the trust would conclude on Cameron's thirtieth birthday or his wedding day—whichever came first. "Marriage? With whom, pray? You've not attended a society event in years." It was true. Cameron preferred hunting and fishing to dancing and, up to now, he'd avoided the marriage mart