Julia London - Seduced By A Scot

What she wanted was to get her mother’s necklace back. That necklace was the proverbial straw that had broken the camel’s back. Maura had done everything the Garbetts had ever asked of her, including moving to the small servant’s room at the end of the hall to be “out of the way.” She’d remained at home when she and Sorcha had been invited to parties so that Sorcha could shine. She’d tried to keep to the shadows when company came. She’d said please and thank you , had never asked for anything, had done everything she knew to do to be a grateful, accommodating girl. And for that, they’d accused her, called her a liar and, the ultimate insult, had taken her necklace.

They should not have taken it, and Maura should not have let them. She’d done nothing wrong. It was all she had to her name, and she intended to have it back.

She didn’t have a plan for that, either, but the first step was getting out of the hell Mr. Garbett had sent her to, and Mr. Bain was offering her a way out.

Whatever would come next, Maura couldn’t guess. But it would not include marrying a man in Luncarty who was “not adept with the fairer sex,” whatever that meant. But in order to escape, Mr. Bain had to believe that she would be foolish enough to agree. So she mustered up all the charm she could manage, looked into the pale green eyes of the man standing before her and said, “Aye, all right.”

His brows dipped into a dubious frown. “All right?”

“I’ll go.”

“Just like that?”

“Is that no’ what you wanted? I’ve changed my mind.”

His frown grew even more dubious, but he said, “Have you a bag? Anything to carry your things?”

She nodded.

“Fill it with what you can carry. Clean yourself up and meet me in the drive when you’re ready.”

“Any other commands, your highness?”

“Aye. Dress warmly.” With that, he turned away from her, easily pushed the bureau from the door, unbolted it, and strode out.

Maura’s heart was suddenly beating with excitement. It occurred to her that this opportunity could disappear, and she could be prevented from escape. She had not a minute to spare and ran to her vanity.

CHAPTER FOUR

NICHOL WAS NO stranger to the dithering of young ladies at their wardrobe, and had expected to be kept waiting a good hour or more for Miss Darby. But here she came after only twenty minutes, bundled in a cloak lined with fur, with her hair bound haphazardly at her nape, and her leather bag—stuffed to the gills by the look of it—banging against her leg.

On her heels was Mr. Rumpkin, who had found a pair of trousers and a coat. He had not found the waistcoat or neckcloth, but at least he’d removed the offending soiled nightshirt.

“Is this how you’ll take your leave, then? Without so much as a fare thee well?” he’d shouted at Miss Darby as she strode toward Nichol.

She ignored him. Did not pay him the slightest heed. This woman. Nichol didn’t know if he ought to be appalled by her lack of civility or impressed with her courage to stand up to Rumpkin. And to him, for that matter.

She arrived before him and dropped her bag. He glanced at her shoes. Silk, by the look of it. “Those will no’ do for a long journey, Miss Darby,” he said, nodding in the direction of her feet.

“They will have to do, Mr. Bain. They are all I have. When I was banished from the home I’ve known for a dozen years, I was no’ permitted the luxury of time to consider all that I might need, aye?”

Nichol’s opinion of Garbett was rapidly deteriorating.

“Is this it, then? After feeding you and putting a roof over your fool head?” Mr. Rumpkin demanded.

Miss Darby looked up at the sky, at the dusting of snow that was beginning to fade away. She looked at Nichol, then at the groom. “Where is the carriage?”

“Carriage!” Mr. Rumpkin said with a sputter. “You think too highly of yourself!”

Miss Darby looked at Nichol.

“No carriage,” he said simply.

She studied the horses, then young Gavin in his saddle.

“Where is the maid? Surely I’m no’ to travel without a female companion.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Garbett’s resources did no’ allow for a maid. We’ll be but a day.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. “Where is my mount, then?”

Nichol patted the rump of his horse.

Miss Darby stared at the horse, then at him. Her mouth dropped open. She looked at the groom again, but the lad studiously avoided her gaze. “Do you mean I am to ride with you ?” she asked incredulously. “Without chaperone or a lass?”

“Aye.”

“You never said I would ride with you, on the same horse!”

Nichol bowed his head. “Quite right you are. Allow me to correct the oversight—you are to ride with me, on the same horse. Without chaperone or a lass.”

She gasped. “I will no’!”

“ Och, I knew she’d no’ go,” Mr. Rumpkin said. “Too lazy, she is. She’s had it easy.”

With that remark, something flashed in Miss Darby’s brilliant blue eyes. She slowly turned and glanced at the offending man over her shoulder, muttered something that sounded French, then picked up her bag. For a moment, Nichol thought she meant to return to her room at the top of the tower, but she suddenly threw the bag at him.

Nichol caught it with one hand. She stomped forward, presenting herself to be seated on the horse. How odd, Nichol thought, that at this moment, he was having to fight a small smile. Her defiant spunk amused him.

“What’s this?” Rumpkin demanded as Nichol lashed her bag onto his horse. “You mean to go with him, then?” he demanded of Miss Darby. “Have you any idea the sort of talk you will cause if people see you riding off as if you were a dead fox draped across his lap?”

Miss Darby looking imploringly at Nichol. “Will you please be quick about it?”

He cupped his hands and bent at the waist to give her a lift. She slammed her foot into his hands, and he vaulted her skyward. She landed lopsidedly on the saddle and cried out with alarm, but managed to catch herself before she slid off the other side and landed on her bottom.

“Go on then, ride out of here like the slut you are, aye?” Mr. Rumpkin shouted.

Nichol turned, walked calmly to where Mr. Rumpkin stood swaying to keep his balance. He caught him by the open neck of his shirt. “You’ve caused enough harm, aye? No’ another word, sir, or I shall put my fist in your mouth and shove it all the way down your gullet to make sure you never utter another word again.” He shoved Rumpkin away, and the man stumbled backward. He was drunk enough that he went down onto his arse with a great thud.

“You’ll no’ treat me in this way!” he screeched, but made no move to pick himself up. “You will compensate me for the broken window, that you will, or I’ll have the proper authorities searching for you ere you leave Aberuthen!”

Nichol walked back to the mounts, put his foot in the stirrup and launched himself onto the horse, directly behind Miss Darby. He hitched the horse about and nodded at Gavin. They trotted out of the drive while Mr. Rumpkin dumbly watched them go.

Miss Darby did not look back once.

“Donna sit so close,” she said, and wiggled, trying to put some space between them. “I donna want to be so familiar with you, aye?”

“Do you want to be difficult?” Nichol asked casually.

She snorted. “You may depend on it, Mr. Bain.”

“Good,” Nichol said, and spurred his horse to canter. “I like a challenge.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. He arched a single brow and smiled. Her gaze moved quickly over his face, and then she abruptly turned, shifting her body forward so she would not touch him. But the horse was moving too fast, and she would bounce right off. Nichol put his arm around her waist to hold her in place.