Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  She should have been chatting happily with her companions, enjoying the beautiful countryside that seemed greener and lusher with each passing mile, or dozing in a corner, oblivious to all of the world’s discomforts. Instead she was restless and anxious, as if she’d left something behind. Something necessary.

  She sighed. At least they were still able to travel despite the weather, although they’d had to stop twice now, once because Jane had pleaded motion sickness, and another time to rest the horses. At the last stop Lance had decided they might as well have tea, too, so they’d ended up spending almost an hour at the inn. At this rate, I’ll be a hundred years old before we reach Gretna Green, far too crotchety to want to marry anyone.

  The coach slowed, and Theodora looked out the window as they turned into a large inn set at the crossway of two roads. “Why are we stopping?”

  “Because we’re here,” Lance said simply, as if that explained everything.

  “Where’s ‘here’?”

  “I hope we can importune the staff for some refreshment.” Jane put her knitting back into the basket. “I could use a cup of hot tea to settle my stomach.”

  “Must we stop again?” Theodora asked.

  “The horses must rest,” Lance said.

  “They’ve already been rested twice!”

  Lance’s mouth tightened. “I agreed to take care of Mr. Douglas’s team, and I cannot risk them by pressing on without reason when—”

  Spencer opened the door and let down the steps. Theodora, seeing Lance’s unyielding expression, realized they’d get back on the road faster if she acquiesced. With a frustrated sigh, she climbed out of the coach and listlessly followed Lance and Jane into one of the inn’s private parlors. She had to admit, it was a lovely inn, with large windows and red velvet curtains. The inn boasted two private parlors, a large and airy common room, and acceptable refreshments. Still, even fortified with hot tea and offered a piece of delicious lemon cake, her spirits remained low.

  A short time later, she poked at her piece of cake with her fork while Lance—seemingly intent on cheering her up—pointed out that each turn of the wheels took them closer to Gretna. He then waxed eloquent about how he looked forward to “wedded bliss” and “the eternal promises of a happy home and hearth.” The romantic-hearted Jane thought it sigh-worthy and was clearly charmed by Lance’s enthusiasm, while all Theodora could dredge up was a faint smile and an “Indeed.”

  Under normal circumstances she would have appreciated his attempts to paint their irksome travels with a romantic air, but the entire effort rang hollow and irritated her. She stared at the cake she’d just shredded with her fork. What was she so irked about? Why wasn’t she happy to be heading into this fresh new phase of her life? She was certain it had nothing to do with Conner, who would now be on his merry way to Wentlow Manor. As he should be.

  She put her plate on the table. “We should get back on the road.”

  Jane hesitated and then put down her cup of tea. “Of course.”

  Lance lowered the forkful of cake that was halfway to his mouth.

  Theodora forced a smile and stood. “It was a lovely tea, but we should continue on.”

  “Not today,” Lance said.

  “Why not?”

  Lance placed his fork on his plate. “We’re staying here tonight.”

  “What?” Theodora couldn’t keep her astonishment from her voice.

  Even Jane looked surprised.

  Lance frowned. “It’s a very tidy inn, and I was told the food is exceptional, which this cake proved.”

  “The cake was delicious, but we’ve traveled less than half a day!”

  “The next inhabitable inn is miles away and we couldn’t possibly reach it tonight, so this is our best option.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Douglas’s coachman, MacLeish.” Lance added with enthusiasm, “The man is a gem! He has everything planned out. He has a complete itinerary with the distances we’re to travel each day, which inns we’re to stop at, where to find a decent tea— It’s quite impressive.”

  She’d had no idea. “When did you see this itinerary?”

  “This morning, after breakfast.” He frowned. “Didn’t you see it? I could have sworn Mr. Douglas said it had your approval. But perhaps he said he hoped it would have your approval. I should have mentioned it to you.”

  Theodora didn’t trust herself to answer as a horrible suspicion began to raise its head.

  Looking nervously from Theodora to Lance, Jane said in a bright tone, “It’s quite thoughtful of Mr. Douglas’s coachman to go to such lengths.”

  Theodora said tightly, “Isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes! My brother uses a travel book to plan his trips, and it does the same—lists the distances between small towns and where there are lodgings to be had, and such. I prefer to have that sort of knowledge when I travel, so there are no unpleasant surprises.”

  Yes, well, Theodora would have done so, too, if she could have trusted Conner and his servants. Sadly, she wouldn’t put it past the wretch to slow their progress as much as he could, if for no other reason than to put his stamp on their journey. Blast that man! She turned to Lance. “We should go, itinerary or not. So long as we rest the team properly, it would do them no harm to pull the coach another ten or more miles today. As to restricting ourselves to only the inns on this list, I’m sure we can find others that are equally sufficient for our needs.”

  Lance didn’t look convinced. “A bang-up team cannot work the same long hours as common job horses. We’ve been traveling so much faster than we might have been, that I’m sure we’ve covered the same distance, even with the reduced travel time. Besides, we’re in no hurry; we’ve a chaperone now, so the proprieties have been seen to.”

  “Lance, please. We could make much better progress than this.”

  “Perhaps, but I’ve no desire to return Douglas’s horses to him in less-than-perfect condition.” Lance smiled and stood, taking her hand between his. “Come, Theodora. Enjoy the journey! Don’t you find it exciting to be traveling in such a luxurious coach through the countryside, on our way to Gretna Green? It’s the stuff of all romantic plays!”

  So far, the trip had been more a bumbling comedy than a romance, but she wisely held her tongue. “I’m enjoying the trip,” she lied. “But I’m anxious for it to be over with, so that the coach can be returned to Conner with all possible speed.”

  Jane sent Theodora an understanding glance. “You dislike borrowing Mr. Douglas’s conveyance.”

  “And his servants. It was kind of him, but—it may sound odd to you, but it feels as if we’re burdened with his presence because of it.”

  “I understand completely.” Jane sighed in sympathy as she picked up her knitting basket and began to look through the contents. “It is sometimes a burden to be beholden to someone, even when their intentions are noble.”

  Theodora had to bite her tongue to keep from announcing that Conner was far from noble. She couldn’t tell them she suspected him of slowing their trip without also explaining why the lout might wish to do so, which left her with no way of explaining herself.

  “Come, Theodora,” Lance said in a faintly pleading tone which irked her nigh to death. “We must stay here tonight. I already asked Ferguson to unhitch the team and have them fed and brushed. It would take an hour or more before he could get them ready again. By then, what’s left of the afternoon would be gone and we could easily get stuck on the road without proper lodgings.”

  There was no answer for it, then. Swallowing her irritation, she threw up her hands. “Fine! It appears we’re staying the night. But only one.”

  Lance visibly relaxed. “Perhaps you should take a look at our bedchambers. If they’re half as charming as MacLeish reported, you’ll be quite happy we’re staying here.”

  “Oh no!” Jane looked up from searching in her knitting basket. “One of my needles is missing. It must have fallen out in the coach.”

 
; Lance cast a regretful look at his half-eaten cake. “I will go to the stables and look for it.”

  Jane set her basket aside, arose, and joined him. “I’ll come with you. I might know better where to look.”

  “Of course.” He looked at Theodora expectantly.

  She had no desire to inspect the inn, but it would give her something to do. “I’ll see to our rooms, but first I want to fetch my bonnet. One of the ribbons is coming loose.” It would give her something to do while they waited for dinner.

  “I can help you with that when I return,” Jane offered.

  “Thank you.” Theodora walked with Lance and Jane to the front door, closing it behind them as they left for the stable. Once they were gone, Theodora looked about the hallway with a critical eye.

  She reluctantly decided that MacLeish was right; it was a neat establishment, far superior to the last few they’d visited. The wooden entryway floor was polished to a warm gleam. A small table sat to one side, just the place for bonnets and gloves, while on the wall next to it hung a neat line of hooks where her pelisse hung. Under the hooks, some thoughtful person had placed a potted fern right where wet cloaks and coats would drip, effectively watering a pleasant bit of winter greenery.

  She absently picked up her bonnet from the side table and began to examine the loose ribbon, noting that it was nicely warm here in the hallway, which meant a proper fire had been lit somewhere nearby. In the distance women chatted over the comforting clink of crockery, while the faint scent of plum pudding made her stomach growl. Perhaps it was best to stay here. And accepting a more leisurely pace would give her time to shake off the sense of impending doom that had hung over her since this morning.

  Feeling more at peace with their decision, she had just taken a step for the stairs when a maid—a thin, brown slip of a girl—stepped out of a private parlor, balancing a tray of empty dishes. Overburdened, she left the door ajar behind her as she made her way down the hallway.

  As she left, a faint whistled melody, nautical in nature, drifted out of the parlor door.

  Theodora froze, her eyes widening. She had heard that melody more times than she could count.

  No. Surely not . . . She found herself at the door, pushing it open. She took a step inside and came to a sudden stop, her bonnet falling from her nerveless fingers. “You!”

  In a winged chair by a crackling fire, legs resting on a footstool, a glass of whisky in one hand, sat Conner.

  “Och, there you are.” He flashed a satisfied smile, his blue eyes crinkled with laughter. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

  12

  Theodora’s hands clenched into fists. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting. You took your sweet time.” He nodded to the small clock that sat on the mantel. “The lot of you are a guid half hour late.”

  “We stopped for tea, and—” Her gaze narrowed. “What do you mean by ‘late’?”

  “You tell me; you’re the one who stopped for tea.” He tsked. “What sort of elopement is this, lollygagging at every inn along the way?”

  “It would be a much better elopement if you wouldn’t attach yourself to it!”

  “I suppose ’tis fortunate you dinnae see roses from the coach window, or you’d have stopped for those, too.” His blue eyes were alight with amusement. “Tell me, are you lingering in the hopes you’ll find a way oot of your predicament?”

  “I’m not in a ‘predicament.’ I’m eloping.”

  “With a chaperone.”

  She plopped her hands on her hips. “You know Lance doesn’t wish to put my reputation in jeopardy. He’s a good man.”

  “I never said the squire was anything else. I just dinnae think he’s the mon for you.”

  That gave Thea pause. Too much, in fact. She wished she could ask Conner what he meant by that, but he didn’t need more encouragement to flash his opinions.

  She sniffed. “You don’t know what’s good for me and what’s not.”

  “Och, Thea mine, I know you as weel as I know my own heart.” He stood in a smooth, powerful movement, and his voice deepened with intimacy that instantly made her picture rumpled sheets and hot kisses.

  She fought a shiver and wondered how he was able to make her think of anything so decadent, and with only a few words. “Sadly, you don’t know me at all.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “I know enough. You’re nae the meek, mild sort, but are filled with fiery spirit. Which is how I know the type of mon that wild heart of yours needs.”

  Oh, she did have a wild heart. And it beat harder every time she saw Conner, which she hated. “It’s not your job to know what’s best for me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop thinking about it.”

  “I worry that you will nae consider what you’re aboot until ’tis too late, and the knot tied. The squire is nae braw enough for a feisty woman like you.”

  “I’m not feisty,” she snapped, and then bit her lip when he laughed.

  “Lass, I would nae have you any other way.”

  If she could control her own emotions, he’d not have her at all, but it was harder than she’d imagined. He made it worse by constantly baiting her, too.

  “Think on it, lass. ’Tis obvious you’re nae in a hurry to reach Gretna. Why is that, do you think?”

  “I asked that we go faster, but Lance felt it would be a strain on your team. He was determined to follow some itinerary MacLeish had set and—” The itinerary. She narrowed her gaze on Conner. “That’s what you meant when you said we were late. It was you who made that itinerary. I suspected as much.”

  “ ’Tis possible I knew of it.”

  “I’m sure you did,” she said with awful scorn.

  Conner’s eyes twinkled at her over the rim of his glass. “Och, ’twas for the squire’s benefit. At breakfast this morning, he said he was nae familiar with the way and seemed worried aboot it, so I decided to help the puir mon.”

  “Help him, or help yourself?”

  “That’s one and the same, love. I’m surprised he told you of the schedule; I expected him to take credit for knowing the guid inns and such.”

  “He’s not that sort of man.” She retrieved her bonnet from the floor and brushed it off. “I daresay every one of your servants are in this plan of yours to make our trip to Gretna last days, and perhaps weeks longer than it should.”

  “Weeks? Lass, I’m guid, but I cannae make the road longer. You’ll be there before the week’s oot, with my itinerary or nae.”

  “A week! Blast you, Conner!” Yet a voice inside whispered, Only seven days and I’ll be married. A few extra days would not be amiss . . . Her throat tightened and she had to fight the very real desire to spin on her heel and run away from everything—the elopement, Lance, her chaperone, Conner, all of it.

  Conner watched her, all humor gone. “Och, lass. You’re frightened.”

  She was, but she could not—would not—admit it. Whether or not she married the squire, she could not succumb to Conner. That would be trading one mistake for another. Oh God—is marrying Lance a mistake? Do I already know it?

  Aware that Conner watched, she said with spirit, “I’m only annoyed about spending an entire week locked in a coach, traveling on heaven knows what sort of roads.”

  “It’ll be guid for you. You’ll be forced to spend the week with the squire and you’ll soon realize how unsuitable he is for a woman such as you. The question is, will you be able to overcome that pride of yours and put an end to it? Or will you marry him just to spite me?”

  “My choice of husband is no concern of yours.”

  His brows lowered. “You’ve been my particular concern for years; I’m nae stopping now.”

  “Me? You never paid the slightest heed to me before now.”

  “Of course I’ve paid you heed! We are friends, lass.”

  Friends. Never had a pleasant word caused so much pain. “That doesn’t give you leave to interfere with my life. You have g
one too far.”

  “You make it sound as if I had evil intentions, when I’ve naught but the best.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Nae that I’ll admit to,” he retorted. A wickedly handsome smile touched his mouth as his gaze dropped to her lips. “I’ll be glad to prove my ‘intentions,’ should you wish.”

  “No, thank you.” Heart racing, she backed away a bit. She regarded him for a long moment, then sighed. “I’m through arguing about this with you.”

  “Guid, for there are other things we could be doing.” He took a step toward her.

  She threw up a hand. “Oh no, you don’t! Tell me the truth. You never planned on going to Wentlow Manor, did you?”

  “If you decide to have your squire at the end of this trip, then I’ll be left with nae other choice.”

  “Then why are you here now?”

  “ ’Tis the best inn for miles. Besides, since I’m also heading north, I might as weel travel with you and your party as go alone. When I meet my wife-to-be, the lovely Lora, I will—”

  “It’s not Lora.”

  He pursed his lips. “Letty?”

  She narrowed her gaze.

  He sighed and rubbed his chin. “Lucille?”

  She frowned.

  “Lilah—”

  “For the love of— It’s Lydia, you fool!”

  He shrugged. “One is the same as the other.”

  She hated hearing him say that. It was a pity he wasn’t in love with one of the Lambert sisters. If he were, her own feelings would die a natural death.

  Wouldn’t they? Or would she be tormented by the thought of him in love with someone other than her?

  The sudden ill feeling in the pit of her stomach irritated her, as did the realization that Conner was right: she was indeed questioning her decision to marry Lance. With each passing moment, once-quiet whispers of doubt grew louder, and she was finding it hard to ignore them.

  Restless, she moved to where the decanter sat on the tray. The tea hadn’t warmed her as much as she’d hoped.

  “Aye, a wee dram will hit the spot.”