Elizabeth didn’t realize she’d dropped the laundry basket until she heard it thump on the ground. Then she scrambled down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out.

Dirt stains would take extra scrubbing and it was time she couldn’t afford.

But it was a mistake because large hands began picking up the pieces of clothing as well. She jerked back, as though a snake were near. “I do not need your help, my lord.” She took two more steps away from the laundry, ready to run if necessary. Her time without a protector had taught her that lords seeking laundresses wanted something other than marriage.

A second man came from around the cottage, and Elizabeth jerked toward him before taking two more steps back. She bumped into the monstrous carriage and then stumbled to the side. Even she could tell that she was acting like a cornered animal. But two men made her significantly more afraid. Why were they here?

“Easy now, lass.” Lord Blackwood dropped his voice, his hands coming out in front of him. “We’re not here to hurt ye, we just came tae talk.”

“I’d like to ask you both to leave,” she managed to push out. If she’d been feigning calm before, she couldn’t now. These men could do anything to her, and no one would help her.

“Lady Elizabeth,” the other man spoke for the first time, his voice equally soft, soothing. “It’s me. Ewan McDougal. Yer cousin on yer mother’s side. I’m Sophia’s son. Don’t be afraid now.” He stepped a little closer. Elizabeth searched his face. They’d only met as children many years ago. Was this really him? And if so, why was he here now? “I ken ye been alone fer a while, I’ve only recently returned from the war. I thought, perhaps ye could use a little help.”

“Ewan McDougal?” she repeated, not knowing quite what to say. Actually a flood of questions came to her lips but which one to ask? She knew better than to blindly trust any man and while he’d gotten her mother’s aunt’s name correct, that proved little. Besides, it had been two years since anyone from her former life had made contact with her and she didn’t welcome it now. She’d worked too hard to build a life that protected her from trappings of society. Her heart beat wildly as she considered running. Why would these men be here? Surely, Lord Blackwood wasn’t serious about marriage? Not when he would surely have his pick of proper ladies to choose from.

“That’s right. We’ve come to help.” Ewan’s voice was still soft, soothing.

She still didn’t trust him. “I’m sure you’ve made a long journey, but I don’t want whatever you’ve come here to offer. If you will excuse me—” She stepped backward again, rather than toward the door as her words might have implied, in the vain hope they would get in the carriage and then she could enter the cottage without passing them.

“We have had a long journey,” Ewan started.

Lord Blackwood waved his hand. “Please, Lady Elizabeth. If ye’ll only give us a moment of yer time, I promise ye won’t regret it.”

Elizabeth took a breath, trying to decide how to proceed. She wanted these men to understand that they no longer fit into her life as a laundress, even if they were here with good intent. “I’m not Lady Elizabeth. Not anymore.” She shook her head. “Now please, my lords. My aunt is sick and requires her medicine and I’ve much to do before I lose the light of day.”

Lord Blackwood took another very small step in her direction. “My given name is Callum Tate. If ye let me lass, I can help ye and yer aunt.”

She clenched her fists at her sides. He had to say that, blast the man. Like he’d somehow known that was her weakness. She’d not take any chances with these men if it were only up to her. Aunt Mary, however, was in desperate need of assistance that Elizabeth couldn’t provide. She took another breath, and stepped toward the basket, moving closer to Callum. Picking it up, she handed it to him to carry. At least if those massive hands were occupied, they wouldn’t grab her.

He took the basket but when she let it go, he caught one of her hands. Her pulse fluttered and she tried to pull it away, fear and another emotion making her heart race, but he held it as if she didn’t tug at all. As if her efforts were that of a gnat or a fly. Inspecting the rough skin on the back of her hand, he turned it over, to assess the callused and peeling palm. “Ye bear yer marks too, I see.” His voice was gentle as he let her hand go. She scurried back again, though he’d clearly meant no harm. But his touch had made her breath heavy and his words confused her.

That was when she tilted the hood back a tiny bit to look into Callum Tate’s face. Dark hair and eyes set off somewhat craggy, though still quite handsome features. But his mark caught her notice. A large scar ran from his ear, down his jaw to his neck. It puckered painfully pink against his dark skin. Words failed her as emotions she didn’t understand crowded her throat. How had he been scarred? Had he nearly lost his life? Had the experience changed him the way this life had changed her?

“Take off yer hood lass, and let me see ye.” He spoke even more softly but he stepped toward her again as his fingers grasped the heavy fabric. She briefly wondered how such massive hands could be so gentle, but then he had pushed the hood away, exposing her skin to the sun.

He audibly gasped as his eyes roamed over her features. “Ye’re bonnie,” he stated, seeming surprised and not all that pleased. Then he turned to Ewan. “Ye did not tell me she was so bonnie.”

“I haven’t seen Elizabeth since she was a child. I didn’t know.” She heard Ewan chuckle before he spoke again. “Does it change anything?”

Callum made a face that showed he wasn’t all that pleased. Not that she cared about his opinion on her looks. But she did take offense to their conversation. They were talking about her like she wasn’t even there. “As nothing is happening here, it changes nothing.”

Both men turned to her then. Her irritation evaporated, the fear rising again. She should have stayed quiet.

“Ye would be foolish not to consider my offer.” Callum’s locked his gaze to her again.

“What offer is that?” she asked. Elizabeth wouldn’t allow her fear to override her good judgment.

“Let’s step inside and we can discuss the terms,” Ewan answered, moving toward the door.

Elizabeth took a breath. While it was unwise to allow two men into her home while she had no protection, she owed it to her Aunt Mary to hear them out. There was no other reason she’d agree to this farce. With a nod, she passed Callum to enter the cottage.

As soon as she opened the door, she heard her aunt call. “Elizabeth, is that you?”

“Yes, Auntie,” she called back. “I’ll have your tea in just a minute. I’ve brought guests.”

“Is it Mrs. Baker?” her aunt asked, but already her voice was more faded than it had been moments ago.

“Let me get the kettle on and then we’ll talk.” She gestured for the two men to have a seat in the parlor, such as it was. Only two chairs sat next to the fire, which had gone out while she had been away.

Hanging her cloak on the hook, she heard Callum suck in his breath again and she mentally cursed herself. She’d forgotten how men reacted to the shape of her body. Crossing back over to where he now sat, she reached into the basket to remove the herbs. She was careful not to look at him or Ewan while she stood again, and made her way to the kitchen.

She quickly stocked the fire and heated the kettle. After making four cups of tea, she returned to the front room, handing each man a steaming cup. She didn’t have a fancy pot to serve it in as she had once used without thought. In fact, they were lucky to have two additional cups for guests.

Returning to the room, she found it toasty warm and so much more inviting than when she had left. Callum had tended the fire, which in and of itself made her insides melt just a little. Having no one to rely on, even this simple task seemed significant.

“If ye’ll excuse me for a minute more,” she started after she handed them each a cup.

Ewan waved his hand. “Tend yer aunt. The tea will keep us occupied.”

With a grateful nod, she went into her aunt’s room. “Aunt Mary?” she asked softly.

The other woman opened her eyes. Her mother’s sister had once been beautiful but now she lay frail upon the bed. Helping her to sit a little, she began to feed her sips of tea.

The beverage brought some color back into the other woman’s face. “Who is here, child?”

“I’m not a child. I’m near twenty years of age,” Elizabeth chided her aunt gently. “A man who claims to be our cousin. Great Aunt Sophia’s son and his friend.”

Her aunt tried to sit up further but failed. “Why are they here?”

“Lord Blackwood has proposed marriage.” Elizabeth smoothed the other woman’s hair as she continued to take sips of tea.

“Does he appear healthy? Kind? Able to sire children?” Her aunt spoke more quickly than Elizabeth had heard in weeks.

“How could I possibly know all of that?” she gave a gentle huff.

Her aunt sunk back into her pillows. “Go find out. And Elizabeth, if there is nothing amiss, marry him. I mean it, child. Do it for me. You’ll have no niece to care for you when you are a failing, silly old woman like myself. I’ll cross to the afterlife better knowing that you’re cared for.”

Elizabeth sat back on the bed, her aunt’s words reverberating through her. While her own old age wasn’t even a concern, she knew she needed to do something very soon to help her Aunt Mary. She had never mentioned death before and hearing her surrogate mother say it now frightened Elizabeth.