Claimed by the Laird

Like the other books in the Scottish Brides series, Claimed by the Laird is inspired by real-life events. I thoroughly enjoyed researching the background of whisky smuggling in the Scottish Highlands!

I have loved writing all the books in this series and would like to thank all my readers very much for their wonderful support through so many writing years.

Happy reading!

To Andrew, my own hero,

who was there at the beginning.

With my thanks and all my love.

Contents

Cover (#u2608b1ab-6d27-5c81-b6a0-c8152a9e4f40)

Back Cover Text (#uc63397d8-ec16-5701-a39b-f0b2c334b0d3)

Praise (#u12fcfa6b-0283-535d-bfbe-0bb497fb9b22)

Dear Reader (#ue75c06a9-71e3-5b75-98da-50791898a886)

Dedication (#u9fcd8682-3116-5bd4-9bf7-c08bb1ef7ef5)

PROLOGUE (#uad6c08c9-7c17-5cce-a2ef-76b6e1a844b7)

CHAPTER ONE (#ue83d2327-5cb1-57d3-8313-858cdc9d10e7)

CHAPTER TWO (#udefa468b-2f6f-54f8-940f-803b79e773b9)

CHAPTER THREE (#uacfa6970-0d67-5d40-a459-586954087612)

CHAPTER FOUR (#uba5bb4f0-776f-59ff-8b30-61de7aaf03bd)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u5a421d9d-9b7e-5776-8b53-ee14a162d81c)

CHAPTER SIX (#uc34a2786-fd62-5824-9524-82d95bbdf1da)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#ulink_e6913c19-f54f-56fe-9e2c-9c300ef0b44f)

Edinburgh, April 1817

“I DON’T KNOW why I am helping you,” Jack Rutherford said.

Lucas Black laughed. “Because my club serves the best brandy in Edinburgh?” He topped up his friend’s glass.

“It does,” Jack allowed. “But that isn’t the reason.”

“Because you owe me money?”

The cards lay abandoned on the cherrywood table between them. This was one of the club’s private rooms and empty but for the two of them. Beyond the door lay the gambling hell’s main salon, packed tonight with a clientele representing the richest men in Edinburgh society. Lucas cared nothing for a man’s antecedents, but he did care that his guests could pay their debts. He was in a position to be selective. An invitation to The Chequers was one of the most sought-after privileges in Scottish society.

Jack took out his pocketbook. “Twenty-five guineas, wasn’t it?” he said.

Lucas waved the debt away. “I’d rather have your help.”

His friend was frowning, watching the brandy swirl in his glass. He did not reply.

“A conflict of loyalties?” Lucas asked. He and Jack were business partners; they had helped each other out of more difficult situations than Lucas could remember. Which made it interesting that this time Jack was refusing to commit himself.

“Hardly that.” Jack glanced up. “I have little time for my father-in-law,” he said. “He tried to push both my wife and my sister-in-law into the sort of marriages that could have damaged them irreparably. People think him charmingly eccentric, but that is too kind a judgment.” He shifted in his chair. “No, it’s the element of deception that concerns me. I thought you were the sort of man who would walk in and state his terms rather than masquerading as a servant to spy on people.”

“I am the sort of man who prefers a direct approach,” Lucas agreed, adding drily, “but can you imagine what would happen if I walked into Kilmory Castle and said that I suspected someone there of killing my brother and I had come to find the culprit and bring him to justice? They would throw me out—or have me clapped in bedlam.”

He stopped. His dry tone had masked all kinds of emotions, but Jack had not been fooled. Lucas saw the sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about Peter,” Jack said, a depth of sincerity in his voice that Lucas could not doubt. “I understand that you want to know what happened—”

Lucas cut him off with a sharp gesture. “I want justice,” he said through his teeth. “It was no accident.”

He could see that Jack was struggling for a response.

Don’t, Lucas thought viciously. Don’t say that you understand how I feel. Don’t tell me that Peter’s death was investigated, that if others could not find a culprit, neither will I.