A betrothal bargain With the Highlander from her past. When Susanna Cameron needs to thwart her brothers’ plan to marry her off, she turns to her childhood sweetheart, Laird Rowan Campbell, with a daring proposal—to be her pretend betrothed! In exchange, she’ll help the now-hardened Rowan get revenge on the man who killed his family. The only flaw in Susanna’s plan—their returning attraction!
A Lady’s Proposal for the Laird
Context:
In Chapter 1, Susanna Cameron asks Laird Rowan Campbell to pretend to be her betrothed to help her gain some time in discovering what secrets her brothers are hiding from her and why they are suddenly so eager to marry her off. Rowan agrees, but under one condition.
Excerpt from Chapter 2 of A Lady’s Proposal for the Laird:
Rowan lifted his head and met her gaze. ‘To finally have revenge against Audric after four long years—’ he paused ‘—and to have the opportunity to punish him for killing my wife and son during his attack on Argyll Castle and our clan, I can and will do anything. I will hold you to your promise, Susanna. Nothing will stand in my way of finally ending him. Not even you. Do you understand me?’
The hatred in his stare cooled the room, and she froze before she nodded in agreement. She would not begrudge him his revenge. Not after what he had lost that day. Even she was not so heartless, even if the rage emanating from him frightened a small part of her. She had to use it as the weapon it was to gain what she needed: information from her brothers about what secret they held from her and her sister before it fractured them entirely.
‘Say it,’ he ordered, rising to his feet, and walking towards her.
She held her ground as he approached, her pulse beginning its uneven cadence once more. Lifting her chin, she did not yield to him. Not yet. She needed to maintain the power she had over him as long as she could. Otherwise, he would overwhelm her with his sheer will, and she would not allow anything other than an equal share of power in their pact.
‘Say it,’ he ordered again, a pitch lower this time as he stood before her. Desperation and rage duelled in his eyes, and his lips parted. His fingertips skimmed the back of her hand, and her pulse picked up speed. He gripped her wrist, the pressure firm but not hard, eliciting a slow pooling heat to travel through her. He leaned in close to her ear. ‘Say it,’ he whispered.
Her eyes closed and she savoured his touch, the feel of his warm, strong fingers along her skin, the calluses from his labours in the forge gliding along her smooth unblemished flesh. It had been far too long since any man had touched her and somehow even after all these years her body remembered him and longed for his touch as much as she was loath to admit it.
As much as she hated to acknowledge the power he held over her.
‘Aye,’ she whispered, leaning even closer before she could halt the reaction, the heat from his body warming her own. Her lips almost touched the skin along his collarbone. ‘I understand,’ she answered. ‘Nothing will stand in your way.’ Her breath hitched. ‘Not even me.’
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