A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

Laird had shown her love. The real thing. The sacrifice. The hardship. None of that mattered because she’d gotten so much in return every day. Each day was a bonus, as she’d told Donell so long ago.

This moment only served to prove she’d made the proper choices all along.

“I’ve moved on with my life, Mother. I repeat; I’m done.”

“Done? You’re nothing of the sort.”

“Mother, really…”

“When the reporter comes in you’ll have to come up with something better than that.”

“I will not give an interview!”

“But you will,” her mother ground out. “I convinced Natalie Bannon from the Telegraph to come up from London. She’ll be tactful and cooperative with editing the final text.”

“Do you not hear me, Mother? I will not give an interview.”

“We’ll have to get a makeup crew in here ASAP and try to do something about all this.” She gestured a hand up and down to indicate all that was wrong with Scarlett in her eyes.

Irritation left a sour taste in Scarlett’s mouth. She’d just given birth, for crying out loud. And she might be a few years older, but those years had been kind to her. If nothing else, she was still beautiful in Laird’s eyes and that was all that mattered.

“We’ll have to explain the hair somehow. Tell them you regretted your choice to cut it, harming your image, and that’s why you got those extensions. I don’t know about the rest.”

“Mother.”

“The reporters are already running with a story about a secret honeymoon to explain your mysterious disappearances over the past month, so we can stick with that excuse.”

Scarlett blinked at that. “With who?”

“Why Grayson, of course.”

Her eye roll couldn’t have been any bigger. Her former co-star Grayson Lukas had always fabricated false stories about their supposed romance. “Let me guess. We eloped?”

“He had to say something to keep from being arrested for kidnapping you,” Olivia pointed out. “You’ve been so unkind to him when he’s a far better fit for you than that brutish man.”

Frustration couldn’t entirely squelch the snort of amusement that Grayson might somehow be a better man than Laird. She pushed herself up and off the bed. “Of all the bloody nonsense I’ve ever heard, that trounces them all.”

“And what’s with this fake accent? You’re not on a movie set any longer. Stop it immediately. It’s grating on my nerves.”

“Enough, Mother. I’m done with this and with you.” Olivia parted her lips in rebuttal, but Scarlett was ahead of her. She stood close enough to stare her right in the eyes and added more bluntly, “I’m not your puppet any longer, Mother. I told you I’m done and I won’t say it again.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You think that will put an end to it all? They will hound you to the end of time.”

They would. Hopefully, however, she’d soon find a time they couldn’t follow her to.

“You may go, Mother.” Scarlett put all the haughtiness of the countess she was into the command. Cold and final. “Feel free to return if you’d like to meet your son-in-law or granddaughter. But not before.”

Her mother gaped. Hemmed, hawed and threatened. Finally, she turned on her heel with the promise to return, and Scarlett drew in a deep breath in an attempt to expel all the scorn her mother had piled on her. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to wash away the past half an hour with imaginings of how a true mother-daughter reunion should have gone. How a loving grandmother would have greeted her new baby. Between her mother and Laird’s stepmother, they’d obviously never know.

Strong arms encircled her and lifted her. On Laird’s lap as he sat in a chair, she nestled into his warm embrace and took solace in his strength. How would she have ever survived here without him? Where would she have been in this time without knowing the support and comfort of his love?

“We’re most definitely no’ naming our lass after yer mother,” he said quietly, drawing a choked laugh from her.

“No, we’re not.”

“Tyrone seems a decent enough man, though.”

“One of them ought to be.” She tilted her head back and kissed the bottom of his bearded chin. “Have I told you lately how happy I am to have you?”

“Nay, but yer happiness couldnae exceed my joy. I would hae naught, no’ even my own life, if no’ for ye, mo chroí.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers, then deepened the kiss. Their breath mingled. Scarlett shivered as his tongue plunged, dueled with hers, and inhaled the scent of soap and aroused male. She wound her arms around his waist, reveling in his strength. A moment later, his hand drifted upward to cup her breast. “My bonny lass. How much time do ye think we hae ere everyone returns?”

Scarlett shook her head with a low chuckle. “I did just give birth to your daughter less than twenty-four hours ago, you know?”

“Shall I see if I can make ye forget the exact number of hours?” He kissed her again.

“You already have,” she whispered against his lips. “How about just holding me and assuring me everything is going to work out for the best? I can’t live this life again.”

“Ye willnae hae to. All will be well, I promise.”

He’d never broken a promise to her, but Scarlett feared there was a first time for everything.

Scarlett

“Back already? That was quick.”

No more than a few hours had passed since Emmy and Connor left. Scarlett hadn’t expected them to return for at least an hour more. She hadn’t even managed a nap after her mother’s visit before Rhys brought Hermione back from their outing.

“Ye hae nae idea, lass,” Connor countered, his palm pressed to his stomach