Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  “Conner, we can’t,” she whispered, so urgent, so pleading. Her velvet brown eyes shone as if she held back tears.

  He winced and moved back. “Och, lass, I’m wild for you, but I would never hurt you.”

  “I know.” She wetted her lips, and the sight almost made him groan.

  Jaw set, he picked up the boots and handed them to her, their fingers brushing. “They’re still damp, but Spencer did his job well.”

  Although he no longer blocked the door, she didn’t move, and the naked longing in her eyes nearly undid him. He captured a strand of her hair and slid the silken length through his fingers. “Och, Thea,” he whispered. “What are we to do? I cannae think aboot anything but you.”

  “That’s— You shouldn’t— I can’t—”

  His laugh was more a groan. “Bloody hell, lass—I know what we should nae and cannae do, but it dinnae matter.”

  She closed her eyes and rested her temple against the doorframe. “I know,” she whispered, her voice smoky with desire. “We—”

  A door down the hallway opened, and Conner stepped back.

  Jane appeared wrapped in a blanket, her eyes watery, her nose red, a handkerchief clutched in her hand. Dressed in a day gown of wrinkled white muslin, her hair half undone, she looked pale and even younger than usual.

  Seeing them, she mustered a sniffly smile. “The fire in my room keeps sputtering out, and it’s gotten so cold.” She coughed long and deep, leaning weakly against her doorframe.

  Thea peered past Conner. “Jane, come to my room. The fire is blazing and you’ll be warm here.”

  Jane shook her head. “I’d bother you with my coughing.”

  “Pah! As if you could bother anyone.” Thea set her boots to one side and then held the door open. “Come and get out of the drafty corridor.”

  Still looking uncertain, the younger woman came down the hallway and, pausing to murmur a greeting to Conner, disappeared into Thea’s room.

  Thea’s gaze met Conner’s. Forcing a smile, he reached out and tugged a lock of her long hair. “Go help the lass. She needs you.”

  Thea nodded and with one last heated look stepped back, her hair slipping from his fingers as she quietly closed the door.

  The light seemed to have fled the hallway.

  But this was what he’d wanted, he reminded himself grimly. He’d wanted her to have a chaperone at all times, someone to remind him not to cross the line his body ached to leap over.

  Yet no matter how many chaperones Thea had, how many fiancés, how many obstacles stood between them, none of it relieved his desire to have her.

  But he’d just have to live with that painful fact—for what she wanted in a man was the opposite of who and what he was, and try as he would, he could find no answer.

  20

  The next morning Theodora went to breakfast and found herself the only one present, Lance having already eaten, Jane still asleep, and Conner nowhere to be seen.

  Trying not to feel disappointed, she ate and then called for Alice before returning to her bedchamber to oversee the packing of her trunks and valise. Except for chattering the entire time about one of the postboys who’d been “as forward as a Christmas goose,” Alice seemed to have enjoyed her stay, admitting she had much more standing as a lady’s maid than she’d ever had as a mere kitchen maid. “Why, all the other servants practically bow to me whenever I step into a room. I could get used to that, I could.”

  Theodora couldn’t disagree. “Have you seen Miss Simmons this morning?”

  “She’s still fast asleep. One of the other maids looked in on her not an hour ago.”

  “That concoction Lance made for her must have worked. I warned her not to drink all of it, for heaven knows what was in it, but she said since he was so kind as to make it, she didn’t want to disappoint him.”

  “She’s a very kind lady if a bit soft, if you know whot I mean.”

  “I don’t know, and I’ll appreciate it if you don’t say such things.” Jane’s innate goodness made Theodora wish to do more for the girl. “She is kinder than I’ll ever be.”

  “Gor’, miss! I wouldn’t say that.”

  Theodora shook her head ruefully. “She’s gentle and forever sweet, while I can be prickly at the drop of a hat.”

  “Pah, it’s just a different sort of kindness, is all. One is milk and toast, the other is cinnamon and spice.”

  Theodora had to laugh. She picked up her cape and gloves. “You are buttering me up for something; I quake to think what it might be.”

  Alice snorted. “I doubt you’ve noticed, miss, but I’m not one for hints.”

  “I’ll remember that. When you finish here, would you see that some breakfast is taken to Miss Jane? I hate to awaken her, but the squire wishes to get on the road by ten, and it’s almost nine.”

  “He does like to tell people what to do, that one.”

  “He’s been in charge of his family since he was quite young; I fear it’s made him a bit bossy.”

  “So he is. And while Miss Simmons doesn’t seem to mind, I do. Just this morning, he stopped me on the stairs to say he was sure I could carry the tray better if I didn’t hold it so high.” Alice puffed out her cheeks. “As if he’d ever carried a heavy tray up a flight of stairs! I had it high because otherwise, my knees would have hit the bottom as I climbed. I showed him that, too, which made some of his tea spill. But he’s the one who said whot he said, so I can’t help but feel he deserved it.” The clock on the mantel chimed nine. “I’d best get to Miss Jane. Do you need anything else, miss?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Very good. I’ll send Spencer to fetch your bags.” The maid dipped a curtsy and left.

  Theodora went to the window and pushed back the velvet curtain. MacLeish was climbing down from the coach, which he’d just brought to the door. Ferguson stood near a pile of luggage, and she recognized Conner’s leather valise and small gray trunk.

  She wondered how many miles that trunk had traveled, how many storms it had weathered.

  She sighed. While this elopement had cured her desire to wed Lance, it had done nothing to cure her fascination with Conner. If anything, it was worse. Before, he’d never reciprocated. Now he not only responded to her, but was stirred by passion himself. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in his hands—

  She shivered. It’s just physical attraction. Don’t allow yourself to imagine it’s anything more. He would never change; she knew that. She had no control over him—only over herself.

  She frowned as a new thought suddenly struck her. Perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . the person who needed to change was her. Perhaps she needed to be more reasonable, more honest in her expectations. And far more cautious about being alone with Conner.

  A knock came at the door, and sighing, she went to let Spencer in. There would be plenty of time to think things through as she traveled. She could only hope she might finally find an answer.

  Half an hour later, Theodora found Lance and Conner bent over a stack of papers in the common room. From their conversation, this seemed to be the infamous itinerary.

  Amused by Lance’s enthusiasm for the small towns they would be traveling through, she cleared her throat.

  “My dear! I didn’t see you there.” Lance looked approvingly at her bonnet, which she carried. “You’re ready. And early, too.”

  While Lance’s expression had opened on seeing her, Conner’s had closed, his gaze on her face as if to read her expression.

  Lance folded the list and slid it into his pocket. “Where’s Jane?”

  “Alice took up her breakfast a while ago, and was to help her dress. I think I hear them now.”

  Indeed, Alice could be heard telling Jane that there was no need to hurry, and perhaps she should return to bed.

  Lance frowned. “Why is that maid telling Jane to return to bed? We’re to leave soon.”

  Jane appeared in the doorway, swaying slightly. She was even paler than before, but fever-brig
ht spots burned in her cheeks. She carried her coat, her bonnet hanging from her limp fingers.

  Theodora took a step forward. “Oh dear! You do not look well.”

  The younger woman managed a smile. “I’m fine. Just a headache is all, and—” She was taken by a fit of deep, heavy coughing.

  “You’re far too ill to travel,” Theodora said worriedly.

  “I’m fine, really. I’ll sleep once we’re on the road.” Jane’s voice faded and she looked down at her coat with a flicker of surprise. “I should put this on.” She swallowed as if it pained her, and then shivered and rubbed her arms. “It’s so cold in here. Is there no fire?”

  “There’s fire aplenty.” Conner moved forward, his brows lowered. “Thea is right. You should be abed.”

  “Nonsense. We must go.” Jane forced a smile, though she shivered as she tugged on her pelisse. “In case you didn’t know, there’s a very important elopement going on.” She coughed again, leaning against the doorframe, weakened by her effort.

  “Back to bed with you,” Lance said bluntly. “I will send for a doctor.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest she take the stairs again,” Alice said. “She near fainted on them whilst we were coming down.”

  “Then she will wait for the doctor here.” Theodora went to the settee and plumped the pillows. “Come and sit. You should not be standing in that drafty doorway.”

  Jane cast an anguished look at Theodora. “I must . . . I can’t . . .” She put her hand to her head, frowning as if the words were swimming before her eyes. “. . . there’s no . . . I’m . . .” Her eyes fluttered. She took a step, and began to sag.

  With a muffled exclamation Conner stepped forward, trying to catch the poor woman before she fell, but Lance was faster, scooping Jane into his arms and carrying her to the settee.

  He carefully placed her on the cushions. “I had no idea she was so ill. She keeps saying she’s better.”

  Theodora placed her hand on Jane’s forehead. The heat took her by surprise and she looked up, past Lance, to Conner.

  Their eyes met and though she never said a word, he moved toward the door. “I’ll ask the innkeeper to send for the doctor.” Conner was gone before she could thank him.

  Lance hovered over the settee, his face dark with worry. “Poor Jane!”

  Theodora looked at Alice, who stood watching from the doorway. “We need cold water and a cloth.”

  “Yes, miss! I’ll bring the coldest water as can be had.” Her jaw set in determination, Alice marched off toward the kitchens.

  Theodora took Jane’s hand between her own, the thin fingers seeming far too thin and delicate. “She should have sent word she was too ill to travel. She tries far too hard not to be a bother.”

  “She’s not a bother at all.” Lance stood at the foot of the settee. “What can I do?”

  “Can you find a blanket or a cover of some sort?”

  “My coat is in the hall. I’ll fetch it.” He left just as Conner returned.

  He looked grim. “I’m sorry, lass. The closest doctor is almost twenty-five miles from here. And worse, the innkeeper thinks the road impassable because of yesterday’s rain.”

  Lance, who’d just returned with his coat, cursed under his breath, drawing a surprised look from both Conner and Theodora. He flushed as he handed his coat to Theodora. “I’m sorry. I just— We must find a doctor.”

  Alice returned with a bowl of water, a clean cloth hanging over her arm. She placed the bowl on a table near the settee.

  “Thank you.” Theodora spread Lance’s coat over Jane and then dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out. She laid it on Jane’s forehead.

  Jane’s lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. “What . . . where am I?”

  “The parlor of our inn.”

  “But—” She pressed a hand to her head, her brows knitting, and clenched her eyes closed. “Oh, my head.”

  “You’re ill.” Theodora dipped the warm cloth into the cool water and pressed it again to Jane’s forehead. “You’ve a fever. You need to see a doctor.”

  “No. We must leave.” Jane tried to get up.

  Lance protested as Theodora pressed Jane back onto the settee.

  “Stay where you are,” Lance said firmly.

  Jane coughed violently, her small body shaking. Afterward, she lay panting, as white as a sheet.

  Her own heart tight with worry, Theodora looked at Conner and said in a low tone, “Without a doctor . . .” She didn’t dare finish the sentence.

  Lance closed his eyes and turned away.

  Conner’s gaze rested on Jane’s thin face. “I know a doctor who’s much closer than the one the innkeeper spoke of.”

  “Where—” Theodora started to ask.

  Spencer appeared at the doorway, holding his hat. “The luggage is loaded, Cap’n.”

  “A change of plans: we’re headed to Portpatrick,” Conner told him.

  Alice frowned. “Portpatrick? Isn’t that on the coast? One of the footmen from the inn came from there.”

  Theodora frowned. Conner’s house sat high on a cliff overlooking Portpatrick. “That’s too far away. We’re going north and—” The expression on Conner’s face stopped her. “We weren’t going north, were we?”

  He merely told Spencer in a short tone, “We’ll travel to Dunskey House. Miss Simmons has taken ill.”

  Spencer grimaced. “Och, Murray.”

  Conner frowned. “There’s nae better doctor in all the world, and you know it.”

  “Aye, but—”

  “She’s verrah ill, Spencer. She needs help now.”

  The sight of the girl’s pale face made the man nod. “Then Murray ’tis.”

  “Send Ferguson to Dunskey by horse to let them know we’re on the way. Have we blankets and pillows in the coach?”

  “We’ve blankets aplenty, but nae pillows,” Spencer replied.

  “I’ll fetch pillows,” Alice offered.

  “Guid.” Conner turned back to Spencer. “Tell the others we’re nae to dawdle.”

  Somber, Spencer bowed and disappeared, his footsteps hurrying down the hallway and out the door. A second later, he could be heard shouting orders.

  “Who is this Murray?” Lance asked.

  “My ship’s doctor. We’ll stop and fetch him on our way to Dunskey.”

  “Dunskey? That’s your seat. I thought it was on the western shore of Scotland.” Lance looked perplexed.

  “It is.” Theodora dipped the cloth back into the cool water and wrung it out, wishing she were wringing Conner’s neck instead. “I fear we’ve been led astray by the blasted itinerary—west, instead of north.”

  “It was taking us that far away from the main road?”

  “It would have taken you to Gretna Green eventually,” Conner replied. “I thought it best the two of you had more time together to get to know one another, before you made your relationship permanent.”

  Lance’s mouth thinned. “That was not your concern. None of this has been your concern.”

  Conner’s jaw set to a mulish angle. “Thea’s family is like my own—”

  “But they are not your own. And to say our journey would have gotten us to our destination ‘eventually’ is the grossest impertinence—”

  “Stop!” Theodora glared at both of them. “We’ve more important things to think about right now.”

  “Law, don’t stop them, miss!” Alice rubbed her hands together. “I’d like to see a proper mill, I would.”

  Lance flushed, while Conner, looking sheepish, bent to tug Lance’s coat over Jane’s exposed feet.

  Jane had been lying still, her eyes closed, the tightness of her mouth telling of her pain. At Conner’s gesture, she cracked her eyes open and gave him a grateful, trembling smile.

  His expression softened and Theodora’s throat tightened, surprised at his tenderness toward the young girl.

  Lance cut a hard look at Conner. “How long before we reach Dunskey?”

  �
�An hour and a half. The Emerald is docked in Portpatrick, which is less than a mile from the house. Murray will be waiting on us there.”

  Theodora sent him a flat look. “If we’re that near to shore, we’d have guessed your perfidy soon.”

  “Most likely. But ’tis a guid thing now, for we’re close to help. I’ll ride with the coach to town, and then leave you to continue to Dunskey House while I fetch Dr. Murray from the ship.”

  “I wish to help,” Lance said. “Your staff will be more efficient with you giving the orders, so you can lead the coach there. I will ride to fetch the doctor.”

  Conner gave a reluctant nod. “You’ll need a horse. There’s a neat mare in the barn that’s for hire.”

  “Perfect. It will be best to lessen the number of people in the coach anyway; Jane will need room to lie down.”

  “Please don’t,” Jane said weakly. “It would be—”

  “Pssht,” Theodora said soothingly. “Lance is right; you’ll be far more comfortable lying down.” She brushed Jane’s hair from her forehead, which felt even hotter than before. Worried, Theodora cast a look at Conner.

  He turned to Lance. “Hire that horse. We leave in five minutes.”

  Lance spun on his heel and left, his boot steps ringing as he hurried in search of the innkeeper.

  Theodora took Jane’s hand. “Do you think you can stand? We must leave, so we can get you to a doctor.”

  Jane nodded and started to sit up, but she instantly went pale and sank back onto the pillows.

  Conner tucked Lance’s coat more securely about Jane and then scooped her into his arms.

  Her eyes widened. “No, you can’t—”

  “Just rest and let me get you to the coach.”

  Conner’s firm tone seemed to calm the girl. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, murmuring a soft “thank you.” As she spoke, she looked at him through her lashes.

  Perhaps it was the flush caused by her fever, or the way the light hit her at that moment, but for a second, Theodora thought Jane’s face was suffused with something far more than girlish admiration.