She looked up and found herself staring into the most alarmingly handsome face she’d ever seen. His long brown hair hung to his shoulders in a wild and unkempt way, but she could tell he’d washed it recently, not at all like the greasy, matted manes of the other men. A day’s worth of beard covered his cheeks and chin, but did nothing to hide his sensual mouth, which quirked in a subtle grin. But it was his crystal-clear green eyes that seemed to void her vocabulary. She nodded like a simpleton.
He held her close to his side. So far, no one had resorted to fisticuffs, but two of the Scots still held a stance that suggested they might swing a punch at any moment. Vanessa found herself holding her breath, so she exhaled slowly.
“So, English,” Angus said, sizing up her rescuer. “You’ve come back to the wilds of the hills, have you?”
“Fits you’d find yourself a pretty lady to wed,” another said. “What’s the matter, the local skirts aren’t good enough for the likes of you?” Guffaws of laughter surrounded them.
This close to her rescuer, she could smell him. A delicious combination of soap and leather and the pure smell of the clean Highland air filled her nose. She caught herself before she closed her eyes to inhale.
“Did you bring her home to wed her properly?” Angus asked with a wide grin that highlighted his foul teeth.
“None of your damned business,” her savior said. But she noted a slight tic in his jawline.
“A true Scot would wed her here and now,” Angus taunted with narrowed eyes.
“Wed her, then bed her,” the other agreed with a grin.
“What’s the matter, English?” another asked.
Vanessa noticed how the man at her side clenched his fist that rested at her waist. Her savior never once met her gaze as he looked at the other men in the tavern. They were all slightly smaller than he, but two of them were as broad. Still, he was only one man.
“English won’t do it,” Angus said.
“He ain’t a real Scot,” the other said. “Too much blue blood.”
The taunting reminded Vanessa of her young cousins who teased and quipped back and forth, goading each other into doing something unpleasant. Children’s folly, nothing more. But suddenly she realized how quiet the room had fallen. It had been so loud, full of boisterous voices and music coming from an old harpsichord in the corner of the room. Everyone waited, listening for what would happen between her defender and the wretched men who’d attacked her.
“Mavis,” Angus yelled. Then he held up his hand. A moment later, a rope soared across the pub, and he caught it in his fist. He took a step toward them. “Well, are you a real Scot or no’?”
“Nah, he’s an English,” the other man said.
At long last, the man protecting her glanced down and met her gaze. His pure-green eyes met hers, and her mouth went completely dry. She’d never been one to become lathered by the appearance of men. Her sisters had certainly fallen into fits of hysteria when handsome men had expressed interest in them, but Vanessa had never looked up much to take notice. But with this man, his rugged handsomeness was hard to ignore. She pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose.
“We’ll do the ceremony,” he said in his low baritone voice. “I’ll marry her right now.”
Before Vanessa could ask any questions, she found herself facing the large stranger and both their right hands were tied together with the rope. The man before her repeated vows, and then nodded to her when it was her turn.
Vanessa tugged on her hand and realized it was indeed tied quite firmly to the man with the beautiful green eyes. The stench of the other men around her assaulted her senses. “Marry this man?” she asked softly, more to herself than anyone in particular.
Loud cheers surged around her. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d just accidentally married a Scotsman.
***
“Well, kiss her, then. Kiss your bride,” the man said.
Graeme took a long look at the woman standing before him. She was not exactly a wee thing, though she was most definitely smaller than him. But for a lass, she was tall. And pretty, with her bright blue eyes and dimpled cheeks. Though her beauty was understated because she hid it behind drab colors and spectacles.
With his right hand tied to hers, he used his left to pull her close. Then he bent and pressed his lips to hers. It was intended to be a brief kiss to seal this foolish ceremony. Instead, the instant their lips touched, he forgot about the fact that he didn’t even know her and kissed her soundly. Her soft lips opened, and her warm breath mingled with his own. And in that moment, it felt as if they’d kissed a hundred times before.
He abruptly ended the kiss. Still, she stood before him, eyes closed, lips parted. Damn if she wasn’t beautiful. He needed to get her out of here and soon, before he ended up doing to her precisely what he was trying to rescue her from.
“Get these bloody rags off our hands,” Graeme said.
“Eager to get to the bedding!” one man shouted. Raucous laughter followed.
The man unwrapped their hands. Graeme slid his hand protectively around his counterfeit bride to guide her out of the pub. She halted, slid her hand out of his, and turned to face him.
“Thank you very much for coming to my rescue. I can assure you it is most appreciated. I was not certain what those wretched men had planned to do with me, but I knew I was not in the least bit interested,” she said, her tone filled with indignation.
