Julia London - Seduced By A Scot

He had just wished her a good afternoon in Gaelic. Maura stared at him. Had he come from the Highlands, then?

“Now I see what caused Adam Cadell to lose his mind,” he said, and bowed gallantly.

For the love of Scotland! Men were degenerates, the whole bloody lot of them. Whoever this man was, or whatever he wanted, Maura didn’t care. She had gone well past the point of caring in Stirling and straight into unyielding fury with the world and everyone around her. She did not want to be reminded of Adam Cadell, that bloody coward. She sighed with impatience, cast her arm over her eyes, and silently willed this handsome stranger from her room.

He did not leave her room. No, he was moving about, pausing here and there. When he next spoke, she realized he’d walked the entire breadth of the room to the other window. “Allow me to introduce myself again, aye?” he said coolly. “My name is Mr. Nichol Bain.”

She didn’t care what his name was. Did Mr. Garbett think she would trust anyone at this juncture?

“I understand you must be mistrustful.”

Mistrustful? Aye, sir, mistrustful and furious. She was teeming with raw, unabated fury. She had no wish to discuss what she was or thought and muttered under her breath, “Sortez maintenant, imbécile,” telling the fool to get out of her room.

There was a long pause before he said, “Pas avant que vous n’écoutiez ce que j’ai à dire.”

Not until you’ve heard what I have to say. Surprised, Maura removed her arm and turned her head to look at him.

He had squatted down onto his haunches a couple of feet away from her and was watching her closely like a hawk, his eyes sharp and focused, his movement very still.

Maura pushed herself up on her elbows and glared at him. All right, so he’d been schooled in French, too. He thought himself clever, she could clearly see it in his eyes. “Mir ist es gleich was Sie zu sagen haben.”

She gave him a very pert smile. She’d just told him that she didn’t care what he had to say, and silently thanked her late father for insisting her education include languages.

Mr. Bain’s smile was slow and almost wolfish. “Aye, you have me there, lass. My German is no’ as good as that. Nevertheless... Wollen Sie von hier fortgehen? ”

She gasped softly. This man, whoever he was, was a formidable opponent. She sat up, putting both feet on the floor, her hands clutching the edge of the chaise on either side of her knees. She gave him a good look, appraising him, before she answered his question. “Aye, I want to leave here,” she said. “But no’ with you.”

Mr. Bain stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and said calmly, “At present, that would seem your only choice.”

“It is no’ my only choice. I could leap from the window you’ve so graciously opened for me, aye?”

He shrugged. “If you meant to leap from the window, I suspect you would have done so on the day you felt it necessary to barricade yourself in this room.”

Well, then, he was a perceptive man. He should be heralded for it among women— Look here, lassies, all of you, a perceptive gentleman! Come quick, for you’ll no’ see this again!

Maura stood up. She was at least a full head shorter than him; he had to look down. And when he did, he unabashedly looked directly at her bosom before lifting his gaze to her eyes.

She glared at him. “What do you want, then?”

“To take you from these...accommodations, first and foremost.”

She folded her arms across her body. “And then? Where do you mean to take me? To Mr. Garbett? Or am I to have the pleasure of visiting yet another cousin?”

He glanced at her mouth. Maura considered kicking his shin. “To Luncarty,” he said.

“Luncarty. What the devil is a Luncarty?”

“It is a small village and an estate. It is also an opportunity.”

She laughed at him. An opportunity! How naïve did he think she was? “ Is it? What sort of opportunity would it be, then, Mr. Bain? Am I to defend myself against the advances of another man I’ve never met?”

“Pardon?” he said, and had the decency to at least look slightly horrified. “Did Rumpkin—”

She clucked her tongue at this fool. All men were fools.

But this fool’s expression turned slightly murderous. “I would no’ put you in a situation that might cause you harm, Miss Darby. There is a house in Luncarty that I think you would verra much like. A big wealthy house.”

“Ah. Someone’s mistress, then.”

He seemed taken aback by her direct manner. “No one’s mistress. You are Mr. Garbett’s ward, aye? He has vowed to do right by you.”

She cast her arms wide. “Does this look right to you, sir? Aye, go on—if I’m no’ to be a mistress, what am I to do at Luncarty?”

“Marry the laird.”

She gasped with shock. And then laughed with sheer delight as she gathered her tangled hair and pulled it over her shoulder. “You must be mad! Or you must believe I am mad.”

“What I am is determined to find a suitable situation for you.”

“Well, that is no’ one!” she said, and laughed again, this time with a twinge of hysteria. “I will no’ marry someone I’ve no’ met!”

“Of course you will meet him before you decide,” Mr. Bain said with the patience of a parent. “The gentleman is an acquaintance of mine. He’s kind, he’s in need of a wife and he will treat you like a princess.”

“I suppose you think that’s all that is required!”

Mr. Bain shrugged. “What more would you like, then?”

“What more ? Love? Compatibility?” All the things she was desperate to know, given that she’d spent the last twelve years of her life searching for even the slightest bit of love or compatibility. For the slightest hint of affection. Since her father died, Mr. Garbett was the closest she’d had to knowing any sort of affection, and even that was sporadically applied in the way of a pat to the head or a squeeze of the shoulder.

“Love and compatibility,” he scoffed. “All verra lofty goals for a lass who is locked in a tower with no prospect of anything more than servitude.”

Maura’s breath caught in her throat. Her fury and disbelief dulled and she felt the truth in his words settle like a weighted mantel about her shoulders. She sagged, dropping her arms.

“Will you at least allow me the opportunity to explain?” he asked.

“By all means,” she said dryly. “You’ve gone to the trouble of climbing the wall and smashing the window after all.” She walked away from him, to her wardrobe. She pulled out a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. The broken window was letting in a north wind and flakes of snow. “You were saying, Mr. Bain?”

“Dunnan Cockburn is heir to Scotland’s largest linen manufacturer. He lives in a grand house with only his widowed mother. He is a good man.”

Maura eyed him with skepticism. “Why has he never married, then?”

“He is no’ particularly adept with the fairer sex.”

What did that mean? Was he hideously ugly? A happy drunkard? “I would guess that you manage the fairer sex with aplomb, aye?” she said. “Perhaps you ought to instruct him.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I am hoping that you will come along and make that task unnecessary, Miss Darby.”

“What if I agree to meet him? When will I leave this wretched place?”

“Tonight.”

That caught her attention—she could leave tonight ? A flurry of thoughts began to race through her mind, not the least of which was that she had a way out of this house. That was the first step. She didn’t know what she intended to do once she was freed from this prison, but she did not intend to marry some faceless man.