Seduced By A Scot
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“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.
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.
“I beg your pardon!” she said angrily. “Is this part of Mr. Garbett’s scheme, too? Did he think I deserved to be carried off like so much luggage?”
An actual response to her question did not seem necessary, particularly when she immediately asked another question.
“Where are we going? It will be dark soon. You canna mean to carry on in the dark.”
His hope was that they would reach Crieff before it was too dark, but before he could answer, she said, “It is apparent that I’ve traded one wretched situation for another, is it no’?” Nichol sensed she had asked her question of the heavens, and not of him. He was right.
“I will be forced to ride like a hostage across all of Scotland and for what? Another man who might abuse my sensibilities?”
“You have my word I will leave your sensibilities verra much untouched,” he said.
She clucked her tongue. “You will pardon me for no’ believing you, Mr. Bain. In my experience, a man’s word is hardly reliable. Mr. Garbett once vowed I would always have a home with him, and yet, here I am, cast out. In the dark,” she added, looking about with a wee bit of nervousness.
Nichol didn’t say anything to that, but it was true that he might know more about being cast out of a home than he was willing to share.
“I know what you think,” she continued. “But on my honor, I didna kiss that man. You canna know how impossible it is to breathe when no one believes you. What motive would I have to lie? Och, but I hardly expect you to understand,” she said with a shake of her head.
Nichol opened his mouth to argue that perhaps he could, but Miss Darby barreled on. “I canna be blamed that, on the rare occasion I was included in a gathering or a call with Sorcha, that gentlemen often looked to me. I never invited it and did my best to avoid it, on my word! But gentlemen believe themselves to be irresistible to the fairer sex and canna possibly believe that a lass would no’ desire his attention, and seek to right that wrong. Even when a lass’s lack of desire is clearly stated, aye? Mr. Cadell was the worst offender! I was quite clear that I didna want his attentions, that he was no’ to touch me, that I would scream if he did, and do you know what he said? He said, ‘You donna mean that,’ and put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me against the wall and bloody well kissed me.”
She paused, cast a quick glance at Nichol over her shoulder. “I beg your pardon for my choice of words,” she added demurely. “I feel passionately that I’ve been wronged, I do.”
“I would—”
“Och, donna give me platitudes, I beg of you. I’ve heard enough of them in the last fortnight, I have. And besides, I can guess easily enough what you think, Mr. Bain—that a man’s desire canna be denied or some such foolishness.”
“That is no’—”
“But what of a woman’s desire, I ask you? Am I to have no say in it? Must I be subjected to him because he canna help himself? I tried to warn Mrs. Garbett and Sorcha about him, on my life I did. I meant it to warn her, to relate something of vital importance that she verra well ought to know, aye? But instead of thanking me for my honesty, Mrs. Garbett accused me of inviting his attentions. You’d no’ believe what they said!”
“You donna—”
“They claimed that I’ve long had a habit of walking and speaking and smiling that serves only to invite male attention, and for that reason, I was often left at home, for I couldna be trusted. I swear to you, Mr. Bain, I swear on my father’s grave, that I walk and I speak and I smile in the only manner I know how, and it is no’ to invite attention, it is to get from one place to the next.”
He silently arched a brow, uncertain if he was allowed yet to speak.
Apparently it was not yet his turn, for Miss Darby sighed, then drew a deep breath to launch once more.
Nichol guessed that she had not had the opportunity to say these things to anyone, and all her feelings about what had happened in Stirling were pouring forth.
“If that were all of it, I would find my peace with it, on my word, I would. But that was no’ all of it, oh no. The Cadells were guests for more than a fortnight, and Mr. Cadell could no’ be avoided. He sought me out at every opportunity, even though he was affianced to Sorcha. Mrs. Garbett said I purposely seduced him. No’ only did she accuse me, they cast me out, and then took the only thing of my family that belonged to me. I would have gladly returned the gowns that were passed down to me and kept with the two muslins Mr. Garbett commissioned for me, but they took my necklace. My necklace, my heritage. Left to me! Can you believe the gall of it? After all these years, after trying so desperately to stay in the shadows for the sake of Sorcha, and they took my necklace!”
Nichol hadn’t heard of any jewelry. “What necklace?”
“My necklace, my necklace!” she said impatiently, as if she’d explained this to him before. “It was a king’s gift to my great-grandmother, handed down to my mother and then to me. It’s quite valuable, but believe me when I say it’s worth canna compare to the sentimental value it holds for me, aye? It is the only thing I’ve left of my family, the only thing that ties me to my name.”
Something shuddered through Nichol. He understood better than this young woman could possibly imagine what it was to want to belong to a name. He understood how deeply unsettling it was to feel the snap of that thin thread. “This is the first I have heard of a necklace, Miss Darby. Had I known, I would have bargained to have it returned to you.”
“Och, but you would have lost that bargain,” she said sullenly. “The depravity there is surely beyond your ability to comprehend, Mr. Bain.”
“On the contrary, I comprehend quite well,” he said, and left it at that. It would be impossible to explain to her how or why he comprehended it as well as he did.
She twisted about so that she could view him fully and with unconcealed skepticism. “Donna tease me, Mr. Bain. You are no’ acquainted with me, and it will no’ be apparent to you that at present, I am in a very foul humor and likely will take offense. I canna even promise that I’ll no’ hit something quite hard.”
She seemed very serious indeed, and Nichol made an effort to keep any sort of smile from his face. “I’ve had an inkling to your state of mind,” he said, thinking that might be obvious, seeing as how she would not answer the door, then tried to keep him out by locking a window. “You’ve made it abundantly clear to all, then. I’d no’ tease you, Miss Darby. Mr. Cadell is a coward and a scoundrel. Desire that is not mutually shared between a gentleman and a lady is pointless and vulgar.”
She blinked, her gaze on his mouth, as if she didn’t believe he’d actually spoken those words.
“Unfortunately, what I believe doesna change your situation. I have endeavored to find a solution that suits you. No’ Mr. Garbett. You.”
She snorted and shook her head, and turned her glittering blue eyes away from him, and Nichol felt a tiny little flicker of regret that she had. “There is nothing that will suit me, Mr. Bain. My patience and accommodating nature are at an end!”
He didn’t think it his place to persuade her otherwise, and even if he’d been so inclined, he would not have the opportunity. Now that Miss Darby had been freed from the wretched conditions in Aberuthen and the Garbett house and, apparently, her silence, she had a long list of complaints.
“They forced me to leave all behind,” she said again. “It was vindictive. It hardly mattered that all these years I endeavored to be pleasing, to stay well in the shadows, to keep to my room. But Sorcha and her mother were determined to lay blame and hardship at my feet, they were. What would be the harm, I ask you, in bringing along my needlework?” she demanded, her voice full of anger once again. “It was only half finished, useless to all of them, aye? Och, I donna care, Mr. Bain, I donna. I will start anew.”
Nichol exchanged a look with Gavin, who seemed unduly wary, as he if he expected her to start anew here and now and somehow involve him in it. Nichol was glad he wasn’t called upon to assure the lad otherwise—she did seem quite determined.
Her list of complaints against the Garbetts went on for a good quarter hour more, at which point, Miss Darby seemed to have aired all her grievances and had lost her thirst for the airing. She seemed spent, taxed by the work of saying it all aloud, to have God and the world know how she’d been wronged.