Stranded with the Scottish Earl Quotes

“You don’t really believe I intend harm, do you?” If he intended to marry her, she considered that great harm indeed. But Flora the housemaid couldn’t say that. Bill rose and gave himself a good shake before he trotted forward to investigate the stranger’s boots. Bite him, Bill. Lord Lyle clicked his elegant fingers. And Bill, the rotten traitor, yipped in delight and rolled over to offer his pink belly for a scratch. “Nice”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“When Bill was a fluffy white blob, the lassie rose and started to dry her thick hair, darkened to milky coffee with rain. Lyle struggled not to notice how the brisk movement of her arms jiggled her generous bosom against her thin blouse. He had a liking for small, curvy women. Or at least he did now. After draping his wet, crumpled towel over another chair, Lyle straightened and stared at his adorably disheveled companion. “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?” She lowered the towel from her hair and regarded him with unreadable eyes. To his complete amazement, she dropped into a curtsy. “My name is Flora, sir. I’m a housemaid here.” With difficulty, he stifled a scoffing laugh. His intelligence mustn’t have impressed her. That lie wouldn’t convince the county’s greatest blockhead. Not least because she spoke with a clipped upper-class accent and her hands, while undoubtedly competent, were as smooth and unblemished as any lady’s. “Flora…” he said in a thoughtful voice, studying the wee besom and trying to make sense of this latest twist in their interactions. “Yes, sir,” she said, dropping her gaze with unconvincing humility. What the devil was she playing at, Sir John Warren’s beautiful only child? She’d kept him guessing from the first, which promised interesting times to come. Last week in his London club, her father had offered this girl to Lyle as his bride. Intrigued and faintly annoyed that she judged him daft enough to swallow this twaddle, Lyle decided to allow her enough rope to hang herself. Plastering an ingenuous smile on his face, he stepped closer. “I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Flora. My name is Smith. Ebenezer Smith.”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Papa, what is it?” Alice in her humble Cinderella costume—a costume close enough to her mother’s all those years ago to revive fond memories in Lyle—ran lightly down the stairs at the side of the stage. “Travelers in need, chicken,” he said, smiling at her. “Mr. Black, Mr. Plum, this is my family. My wife, Lady Lyle. You’ve met Michael. These are my older sons Angus and Hamish. And this ragamuffin is my daughter Alice.” “You’ve caught us in the middle of putting on a play, Mr. Black,” Charlotte said. “I apologize for our odd appearance.” Lyle waited for some response, then caught the dazed expression on young Black’s face as he stared at Alice. “Mr. Black?” he prompted. “I’m…I’m sorry, my lord,” Black said without shifting his gaze from Alice. “Please don’t let us inconvenience you.” “We’re used to taking in travelers in trouble,” Lyle said, not sure what he thought about his daughter making such a fast conquest. Except it was worse than that, damn it. “I’ll…I’ll show you back to the house. You’ll want dry clothes,” Alice said, returning Black’s interest with a readiness that made every hair on Lyle’s neck bristle with warning. He caught his wife’s eye and stifled his immediate veto of Alice’s offer. “The play’s about to start, Alice,” Angus said. “A short delay won’t matter,” she said, without looking at her brother. Her attention was all for the tall young man with the burning gray eyes and wet blond hair. “You’re too kind, Lady Alice,” Black said. “Come with me.” A brilliant smile curled Alice’s lips. “To the ends of the earth,” the young man said, smiling back with untrammeled delight. They turned toward the door, and Lyle instinctively started to follow until his wife’s hand curled around his arm. “Let them go.” She drew Lyle away from the crowd. “I don’t like the way he was looking at her,” he grumbled, shooting the oblivious Julian Black a glower over his shoulder. Charlotte”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“It’s only for a day, mo chridhe,” Ewan said, and she heard that he, too, struggled to accept their parting, however short. He led the bay mare. She was loaded with the initialed leather luggage that had doomed his halfhearted attempt to play plain Mr. Smith. Around them, the world was fresh and fragrant and newly washed. The sun crept above the horizon, thickening the light under the trees. The air was cold, but smelled of spring. “You never told me what that means,” she said, knowing he should go, yet not ready to say goodbye. The tenderness in his smile squished her heart into a ball of sentimental goo. “Aye, I did.” “When?” She was sure she’d remember if he had. She intended to remember every detail of the last two days until her dying breath. The faint glint in his eyes, visible even through the gloom, hinted at teasing. “I’m devastated that you’ve forgotten so fast, lassie.” “Tell me,” she said, fighting the urge to fling herself against him and beg him not to go, scandal be hanged. “Why, it means ‘my heart,’ and you already know that’s true.” “Oh.” Tears misted her vision. She’d become disgustingly weepy since she’d met Lord Lyle. “I’ll have to teach you the Gaelic, if you’re going to be a proper Scotswoman.” She strove to match his lightness. “I’m not sure how useful it will be. I can’t run around calling your crofters my heart.” “It will be devilish useful when you talk to the laird, my darling.” She”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“love you, Charlotte. I’ll love you forever.” She’d”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“I believe I told you I love you.” “Aye, you did, at that. Although you could have sounded a wee bit happier about it.” “Should I say it again?” “Aye, I’d like to hear it.” “Very well.” Her lips twitched, but she didn’t release the sheet. “I love you, Ewan Alexander Ardmore Macrae. I must be as mad as my father, but you’ve carved a place in my heart that belongs to you alone.” He nodded with satisfaction. “That’s better.” She cast him a sidelong glance. Dear Lord, she’d caught herself an enviable specimen of a man, even if he was far too inclined to tease. “Your turn, Lord Lyle.” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “You won’t let me out of this, will you?” “No.” His hand crept to the edge of the sheet, until she slapped it away. “I’m gey eager to see what’s under there.” “You know what you have to do first. Think of this as blackmail.” “Och, you’ll make a braw countess, Charlotte Warren.” “So?” His smile faded, and he kissed her with a depth of emotion that caught her by surprise. She shivered under the wordless worship of his lips. There was passion—as he’d said, passion was integral to their love—but there was also tenderness, and care, and something that felt like reverence. By the time he raised his head, she was boneless with longing and radiant with happiness. After that kiss, he didn’t have to say the words. She knew he loved her. Dazzled”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“After a week of moping around London like a sick dog, I decided that the only cure for my humiliating disease was to see you in the flesh and prove that nothing uncanny had taken place when I saw that miniature.” “And what happened?” she asked, praying for him to say he hadn’t been disappointed. He’d spoken lightly of falling in love, but he was yet to say the words that every inch of her soul longed to hear. He gave her that smile that always made her silly. “You know precisely what happened. Miss Flora opened the door, and my fate was sealed.” “Oh,” she said, too stirred up to summon anything more meaningful. “Straightaway I saw the qualities I’d observed in the picture, the qualities your father had described. They were all there in the lassie who tried to leave me out in the rain.” “So you thought you’d found the perfect wife.” He burst out laughing and caught her hand. “My darling Charlotte, you’re bonny, but nobody in their right mind would call you a perfect wife.” “Is that so?” she asked in a dangerous voice. “I’ll have you know that—” Her scolding ended in a gasp as he lunged forward and tumbled her back against the rumpled bedding. “Now, before you fly up into the boughs, let me finish. You’re an impatient wee lass, my love.” She regarded him with sulky displeasure, even as happiness flowed through her veins, turning the cold night to bright summer. The sheet separated their bodies, but she could feel that, like her, he was becoming interested in more than conversation. However fascinating. “It had better be good.” “It is.” He kissed her with a thoroughness that stole her breath. When he raised his head, they were both panting. “I don’t want perfection, Charlotte. I want a wife who will stand up to me, and make me crazy with wanting her, and set me laughing with joy, and turn every day into an adventure. I doubt we’ll lead a quiet life, but by God, it will be interesting and worthwhile, and purposeful and passionate.” “And”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Say something,” she forced out, already bracing for an unfavorable reaction. Annoyance. Or amusement. Or worst of all, pity. Ewan still looked odd, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she’d said. “You love me?” She supposed she could pretend it was a joke. By now, he must be used to her sarcastic ways. He might almost believe her. And if he did, it would salve her pride, if not the gaping wound inside her. But she’d ventured this far. She wasn’t coward enough to retreat. With shaking hands, she dragged the sheet up to cover her nakedness, hoping the fragile linen might armor her against the hurt she’d invited. She pressed back against the bedhead. “Yes.” The blue eyes continued to measure her with almost detached curiosity. “I’m….I’m astonished.” Better than pity, she supposed. At least it should be. “You don’t have to love me back. After all, it’s absurd to fall in love in the space of a few days.” To her chagrin, a ghost of a smile played around his lips. “Absurd.” Anger came to her aid. Thank goodness. She’d much rather feel angry than vulnerable. “This doesn’t have to make you feel uncomfortable. I won’t cling, or pine, or make scenes.” “I’m not uncomfortable,” he said steadily. His expression remained enigmatic. “Well, good,” she said, at a loss. Her fingers tightened on the sheet. What on earth happened now? Had she expected him to tell her he loved her too? The shaming truth was that somewhere deep inside her, she’d hoped that if she was henwitted enough to crash headlong in love with him, he might love her back. If only a little. “Charlotte, I didn’t fall in love with you in a couple of days.” He spoke deliberately, making every word count. She flinched at his honesty. Although she supposed the truth was kinder in the long run. Even if right now, she felt like he stuck a knife into her. “You don’t have to—” He raised his hand to silence her. “I fell in love with you at first sight. Before I met you.” Bewildered,”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Charlotte’s disheveled blond head was buried in his chest. It took him too long, floating in the blissful aftermath, to realize that she was crying. Horror blasted his satisfaction to ash. He reared back and placed his hands on either side of her head, forcing her face up until he could see her eyes. “Mo leannan, mo chridhe, I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry. I tried to be gentle, but you were like fire in my arms. I acted like a damn barbarian. Will you ever forgive me?” She regarded him with drenched eyes as a frown drew her brows together. “Ewan, what on earth are you talking about?” He dug his fingers into her thick, warm hair. “You’re crying,” he said flatly, sick with guilt. Her lips turned down in disapproval. “I suppose you expect me to tell you why.” “For God’s sake, just tell me I didn’t hurt you.” He leaned forward and traced kisses across her brow and down her temple where he felt the deep beat of her blood. “You didn’t.” Her hands encircled his wrists. “Well, a little. At first. But then…” “Thank heaven,” he breathed, kissing the salty moisture from her fluttering eyelashes. Under his wandering lips, he felt warmth flood her cheeks. “Then it was wonderful.” “Nonetheless you cried.” He drew back to stare into her face, trying to see past her beauty to what went on in her mind. “Are you lying to make me feel better?” She released a choked laugh and tried to avoid his gaze. “When have I ever tried to make you feel better?” “When have you ever cried?” “Oh, curse you, Ewan. Can’t you leave it alone?” With some difficulty, she tugged free and sat up. “Not when you’re unhappy.” He rose until he sat in front of her. She scowled. “You’re going to make me admit it, aren’t you?” By the second, guilt and worry faded. In their place came a great happiness that turned the whole world golden. “Admit what, Charlotte?” he asked, hoping like hell he hadn’t mistaken where she was going. She swallowed, her slender throat working. Her voice was low and vibrant with emotion. “I had no idea it could be like that. You made me feel things I never imagined were possible.” “Good things?” “Now you’re just looking for compliments.” “Charlotte,” he said warningly. Her lips curved. “Marvelous, wondrous, extraordinary things.” Lyle should be happy. After all, not long ago, the thought that she wouldn’t have him under any circumstances had tormented him. Hell, not much more than a day ago, she’d baulked at letting him into the house. Now she’d given him a promise of marriage and commended his lovemaking. He was a fool to want more, but for one luminous moment, he’d hoped she might declare her love. “It’s your first time,” he said in a gloomy voice. “I’m not surprised you’re feeling a wee bit floaty.” She stared hard at him. “First time or hundredth time, I believe it’s something remarkable between us that made it like that.” “Like what?” “Like the beauty tore my soul into pieces.” Her voice was husky. His heart crashed against his ribs at her confession. Surely that was enough. Why couldn’t he accept what she offered? She told him everything he wanted to hear—except the most important words of all. “That’s just pleasure.” She gave him the familiar unimpressed look. “I’m no expert, Ewan, but I’m pretty sure that pleasure alone wouldn’t make me cry.” She bit her lip, and her eyes deepened to dark honey. “Only love could make me cry.”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“He pressed his cheek to hers and closed his eyes on a prayer of gratitude for interfering fathers, and bad weather, and gorgeous, brave, clever lassies. From the first, he’d recognized Charlotte as the other half of his soul. But this profound emotion as he joined his body to hers exceeded anything he’d known. Buried deep inside her, he could swear they breathed as one. He loved Charlotte Warren with a purity and steadfastness that nothing could shake. He would wed her and claim her as his with every bond of church and state. But their true marriage started at this moment. The”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Tomorrow his body would bear her mark. His heart would bear her mark forever. He”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“I don’t know how to please you,” she whispered. For the first time since he’d burst into her room, tenderness softened his smile. Her blood melted to syrup as those strong hands rose to cradle her head. “You don’t have to do anything, mo chridhe. Your mere presence pleases me more than I can say.” He paused, then spoke with more emphasis, in case she misunderstood. “You please me.” The”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“You’ll marry me,” he said in a rough voice. If they hadn’t just kissed as if the world ended, she’d think he was angry. She tipped her chin up and spoke defiantly. “Yes.” Charlotte waited for him to say he was pleased, but he still looked as if he poised on the edge of a cliff. A cliff with hungry crocodiles snapping below. “Soon?” he growled. “Tomorrow if I could.” “Good.” He”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Come to me.” Stupid to haggle over dominance when they both knew she’d surrendered. “No, come to me.” “That’s my braw lassie.” His smile expressed unfettered admiration. “You know, it would be easy enough to meet in the middle.” This”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“He slipped the small leather case that had started all the trouble into his coat pocket, ran a comb through his thick black hair, and stared into the blue Macrae eyes. He wasn’t used to seeing uncertainty there, but he saw it tonight. “Come on, laddie. Time to face up to your future and find out if she’ll have you.” The”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“He wanted her. He loved her. He had no idea where he stood with her. The thought of riding away tomorrow felt like someone scraped out his liver with a blunt knife. Lyle”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“When Charlotte shivered, he took off his oilskin and draped it around them like a blanket. “Is that better?” “Yes, thank you.” She nestled closer without invitation. “This is a dickens of a way to court a lassie.” He dropped an arm around her shoulders. To his surprise, she laid her head on his shoulder. The pungent scents of wet sheep and dirty straw tinged the air, but even through all that, he caught a faint and alluring hint of Charlotte. Flowers. Rain. Female. He closed his eyes, happy, despite the weather and his aches and pains.”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Ignoring his protesting muscles, he pushed the hay to the ground. He muffled a groan, but Charlotte heard him. “Are you all right?” He mustered a smile. “I’ve been living in London too long. A Scotsman should laugh off what we’ve done today.” “I need to meet more Scotsmen. They’re an impressive tribe.” “We are at that,” he said, tossing over another bale, then descending to the ground. Charlotte”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Her hair was a tangle. Her filthy clothes would make any self-respecting debutante shriek in horror. Dirt streaked her piquant face. And still he thought she was utterly irresistible. He was in a bad way indeed. Several”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Och, I’m quite the useful laddie. I can save a sinking calf from the mire, or cook a braw piece of toast, or fix a broken heart.” She”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Call me Ewan before we go.” “I don’t see—” She faltered into awkward silence. Absurd that saying his Christian name seemed more of a concession than last night’s kisses. “Please,” he said softly, no trace of a smile in his blue eyes. She swallowed. The word clogged her throat. The two syllables felt as hard and immovable as huge, jagged rocks. He waited. They both knew that speaking his name was an irrevocable step toward surrender. To think, only moments ago she’d counted his patience a positive quality. Oh, this was stupid. It was a word. Nothing to get so worked up about. She licked her lips and angled her chin up. Defiance faded when she met Lyle’s intent gaze. A strange, sizzling power surged between them. It should terrify her. Instead it filled her with sudden purpose. She found herself smiling. “Thank you for all your help today…Ewan.” His visible delight warmed her right to her toes. “My pleasure, Charlotte.” She’d”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Tell me more about your home. I can hear in your voice how you love it.” He smiled. “You’d love it, too, mo chridhe.” “What do you call me?” He wasn’t quite ready to tell her, so he pretended not to hear the question.”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Etiquette decrees that when a man has pulled a lady from the mud three times, he’s permitted to address her in intimate terms.” Charlotte joined him on the bench, biting into her sandwich. Her nearness warmed his side. Convenience or progress? “I must have missed that one.” “One of Beau Brummell’s strictures,” he said, starting his lunch. She was right. The food was squashed, but at least it was dry. Right now, he was hungry enough to gnaw the leg off the table, and this simple fare was delicious. “And once the lady has returned the favor by assisting the gentleman after he’s fallen flat on his rump, she’s required to call him Ewan.” “Even if that’s not his name?” “Even so,” he said solemnly. She snickered and bumped him with her elbow. “You talk such nonsense.” “Och, you turn my brain to porridge, lassie. I lost all sense the moment I looked into your lovely eyes.” “More nonsense.” Silly”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Her lack of welcome couldn’t dampen his happiness at seeing her. He’d never been in love before. He’d never imagined love could strike a man harder than a rock falling on his head. Harder, and with the same lack of warning. But watching the slim, golden-haired woman lit by stark gray light through the high windows, he admitted the inescapable truth. He was head over heels with Charlotte Warren. He”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“What a day it had been. Just like this, destiny seized a man. He smiled out into the night. His particular destiny was breathtakingly pretty. And opinionated. And innocent. And demonstrated an intriguing talent for kissing. Content despite his frustration, he rolled over. Tomorrow he’d pursue this unorthodox courtship, and kiss Miss Warren, and perhaps convince her to favor his suit. Challenges all. As he closed his eyes, his hand slid under the pillow to touch the small leather case he’d kept with him since receiving it in London. *”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“No, mo chridhe. You mistake me. I’m courting you.” “I don’t want to be courted.” For pity’s sake, could she sound any more panicked? “Try it. You might like it.” She’d like it far too much. “I don’t know you.” He kept smiling. “That’s the purpose of courtship, my love.” Oh, he was a devil. A cunning, conniving, Scottish devil. He must know how that soft endearment rippled through her, demolishing all defenses. “You’re”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“I can well imagine a lily-livered coward shying away from taking you on. But don’t try to tell me that you haven’t had your chances. I refuse to believe that every man in Hampshire is blind and stupid. Unless thin English blood is to blame.” “You forget I’ve got thin English blood.” He smiled. “There’s nothing thin about your blood, lassie. Perhaps that’s why it takes a proud Scot to see your true worth. I don’t want a milk-and-water miss at my side. I want a woman of strength and fire. A woman like you.” Shocked, she struggled to sit up. He’d started out with the familiar teasing, but purpose had resonated through that declaration. “Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before.” “I want a wife to share my joys and troubles.” His Scottish burr deepened with every word. “I want a wife who meets a challenge with a sparkle in her eyes. I want a wife who gives me a run for my money.” Inside”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“So, marriage, Miss Warren?” The suspicion that her expression was as vapid as her brainless hound’s sparked a revival of spirit. “Is that a proposal?” He laughed comfortably and tucked her closer. The delicious scent of clean male enveloped her. “No.” “Good.” “When I propose, you’ll be in no doubt of my intentions.” Even”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Be damned if I’ll call a woman I’ve kissed Miss Warren. Let me call you Charlotte.” She shook her head. “Formalities are safer.” His smile told her he thought she was crackbrained. Given her ardent response to his caresses, she had to agree. “Even if I’ve had you half out of your dress?” Could her cheeks get any hotter? “A gentleman wouldn’t mention that.” “Perhaps not. But I dare any man, however well-bred, to forget that glorious moment.” The”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl

“Charlotte waited for him to press his advantage, but he closed his eyes and rested his head back. Never had she seen a man look so contented. She stole the opportunity to study him without having to fend off that bright, interested gaze. When he’d turned up out of the pouring rain, she’d thought him handsome. No woman with eyes in her head would disagree. These hours in his company had only confirmed his physical appeal. Perhaps because she now knew the taste of that expressive mouth and how readily his lips could curve into a smile. Her fingers clenched into her skirts, much as they’d clenched into the cool silk of his black hair, hair with an endearing propensity to fall over his high forehead. Her fascinated inspection traced the hard, spare lines of his cheekbones and jaw. Even in a newspaper sketch, his striking good looks had been apparent. Now she saw so much more. Intelligence. Kindness. Humor. The thick black lashes shadowing his cheeks lifted, and he turned his head toward her. When she met that dark blue gaze, the world stopped, and an odd, echoing silence surrounded her. “Seen enough?” he asked softly. She flushed. Heavens, she’d blushed more since meeting Ewan Macrae than she had in the last year. It was an effort to speak. It was even more of an effort to keep her voice steady. “Best to know your enemy.” Every time he smiled, her pulses leaped in the most extraordinary way. This time was no different. “Daft lass, I’m not your enemy.” “Opponent,”
― Anna Campbell, Stranded with the Scottish Earl