“Supposedly?”
She laughed. “I suspect he’s only pretending to be hurt to get my aunt alone so he can court her. Since I heartily approve of the courtship, I must maintain the pretense by riding up to fetch them.”
He shook his head. “You’re not dressed for it, and it’ll take time to unhitch a horse. Let me carry you up in my carriage.”
“It can’t make that climb, sir.”
“Not on this side of the mountain, but on the other side is an easy road to the top,” he lied.
“Really?” She stopped short. “Are you sure?”
Lachlan smiled. “Most people don’t know about it. My equipage is just inside those trees; let me drive you up. The colonel may need me to carry him to the rig.” He offered her his arm.
“I sincerely doubt that,” she said with a laugh, but took his arm all the same. “But I suppose we should keep up appearances for his sake.”
“Aye.” Deliberately he covered her gloved hand with his. “Besides, I’ll take any chance to be alone with you, even if only for a bit.”
Her whole face brightened. “Oh, Lachlan, I’m so glad you’re alive.”
Guilt pricked his conscience. She wouldn’t be thinking that for long.
“But you must tell me how—” she began.
“Not yet, lass, not until we’re alone.”
Which had better be soon. Already his body suffered the toll of the past week’s travel. He couldn’t wait to have the pretense over, even if it meant she would despise him.
Despite his throbbing thigh, he hastened his steps, ignoring the glance she slid at him as they walked. He was too busy scanning the area for any other strangers who might happen upon them. This mustn’t look like an abduction.
“How did you know about the road up the mountain, anyway?” she asked.
“I attended school in Edinburgh .”
“I forgot about that.” She added in a teasing voice, “Probably because it did you little good. You returned to Rosscraig as wild as when you’d left.”
The word “wild” scraped his nerves—he’d heard the accusation from his father a dozen times a day when he was young. “You can’t possibly remember what I was like when I went off to school. You were only a wee thing then.”
“True, but I heard stories. And I remember what you were like when you returned.”
“Aye.” He frowned. “You called me a dirty savage.”
To his surprise, she chuckled. “Only because you were so mean to me, telling me you had better things to do than coddle a ‘silly girl.’ ”
“Are you saying you didn’t think me a dirty savage?”
The pretty pink blush that stained her cheeks sent his blood pounding in his veins. “I thought you were wonderful.”
Ignoring that bit of amazement, he said, “Ah, well, you were a girl. Girls get funny notions into their heads.”
The impatience in his tone must have sunk in, for her hand stiffened on his arm. “Lachlan?” she asked, her voice suddenly wary.
“What, lass?”
“How did you happen to be here today at the same time we are?”
Damn, she was starting to realize the oddness of this. But they were in sight of the coach, thank God. He quickened his steps as he spun the tale he’d prepared. “After Seton tossed me out last night, I found out where you were staying. I followed you this morning, hoping to have a word with you, but then Seton arrived, and I thought it best to…catch you alone.”
They approached his rig, and he let out a breath. “Here’s my carriage, lass.” He called out to the lad on the perch, “Look lively, Jamie! We’re headed off!”
His long-term partner nodded and took up the reins as Lachlan helped her into the carriage, then leaped in behind her.
The team pulled off so quickly that she was thrown back against the squabs. He took advantage of her loss of balance to jerk down the window shades.
“Lachlan,” she chided him, “you may not move in society much, but surely you realize I can’t ride with you in a carriage with the shades down.”
She reached to pull up the shade, and he caught her hand. “Leave it be.”
Her gaze shot to him. “I cannot—”
“You can and you will. At least until we’re away from the park.”
“What do you mean?” she said warily. “We’re going up to Arthur’s Seat.”
Releasing her hand, he pulled the shade aside just enough to look out. “Do as you’re told, and everything will be well.”
She stared at him as if he’d slapped her, but he had no time for coddling her. They would soon reach the entrance. Some guards had been lounging about there earlier, probably because the road went right past Holyrood Palace . Fortunately the king wasn’t there today, so Lachlan hoped the lazy louts would let them pass after seeing the shades down. If not…
“Lachlan!”Venetia said in that imperious voice she must have inherited from her father. “I demand that you stop this carriage right this minute.”
He glanced over to find her glaring at him. He considered trumping up some tale about how he was kidnapping her to marry her, but that was a level of deception he couldn’t stomach. Time to drop the pretense. “Sorry, lass. I can’t.”
Venetia heard his words with a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She should have known something was wrong when he’d first showed up at the park. But like a fool, she’d been so happy to find him alive. “Why not?”
He tipped the shade aside to glance out again. “I’m surprised you haven’t guessed it by now, given my miraculous resurrection.”
Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Yes, perhaps you should explain how you came to be declared dead,” she said hoarsely. “The papers claimed you were killed in a battle with the Scourge.”
“That was a lie I had my clansmen plant. Truth is, my battle was with your father’s men. They were the ones who tried to drown me in the loch.”
“My father’s?” she said, completely at sea. “But why would my father’s men attack you? You’ve never done anything to—”
“Think, Venetia .” The icy gaze he leveled on her sent a chill right to her bones. “You’re no fool. Who’s the only Scot yer father would want to murder?” His voice turned hard as nails. “The only man who’d dare to kidnap his daughter?”
The word “kidnap” froze her blood. She was going to be sick. Lachlan had always been reckless, but surely he couldn’t…“You’re the Scourge?”
He tipped his hat to her in a mocking salute. “At yer service, my lady.”
Lord save her. All this time when Papa had complained about the Scourge, he’d been complaining about Lachlan .Lachlan had been the one to steal from him and torment their friends, lying to the world, and to her today so he could—
“You unconscionable blackguard!” she cried. “How dare you!”
She lunged for the door, but he grabbed her easily, hauling her onto his lap and clamping his arm about her waist as he locked her legs between his.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he muttered against her ear. “You can’t leap from a carriage at this speed, or you’ll kill yerself.”
“That’s what you’re going to do to me anyway, aren’t you?” she spat as she struggled against his hold, knocking both their hats off.
“Don’t be daft. And stop acting the fool, unless you want me to tie you up.”
That stopped her short. She didn’t want to be tied up, but neither did she want to be kidnapped.
Oh, how could this be happening? What a fool she’d been to think that the unruly Lachlan of her childhood would turn out to be anything but a scoundrel. And she’d given herself into his hands without a fight, too!
“Papa will find you. He’ll hunt you down and tear your heart out—”
“What a bloodthirsty wench you’ve become,” he taunted her. “But don’t worry yer pretty head over it—he won’t need to hunt you down, because I’m inviting him to Scotland to rescue you. Then we can settle this
matter between us.”
Her blood ran cold. “What matter? Why do you hate him so?”
A panel slid open behind their heads. “We’re approaching one of His Majesty’s Guard, sir,” the man named Jamie said. “What shall I do?”
Venetia tensed. This was her chance to scream, to—
“Don’t even consider it,”Lachlan growled, as if he’d read her mind.
Suddenly she felt something cold and hard jab into her ribs. She looked down to see the end of a nasty-looking pistol just under her arm.
Oh, Lord. He had weaponry, too. She was done for.
Lachlan turned his head to the open panel. “Halt only if the guard demands it. If he does make you stop, keep him to the right of the carriage, and tell him…” He paused, then tightened his arm about her waist. “Tell him yer master is on his honeymoon and has no interest in the king’s affairs.”
As the panel slid shut, Lachlan shifted her across his lap so that her back was to the right-side window with the pistol shoved against her belly.
Fear snaked down her spine. “You would never shoot me,” she whispered. “I’m no good to you dead.”
“True.” He slid the gun between her arm and her side, aiming it at the window. “But if you say anything to attract attention, I’ll shoot the guard. Do you want his blood on yer head?”
Her chest constricted. He had her other arm trapped against the back of the seat, which left only the one that lay against the gun. She might be able to grab his arm, but it was thickly muscled, and she probably couldn’t win that fight. Besides, if the gun accidentally went off…
“You wouldn’t kill a fellow soldier,” she said, as much to convince herself as him.
The carriage began to slow as a voice hailed the driver. “Are you willing to gamble a man’s life on it?”Lachlan hissed.
As she hesitated, gazing at the implacable features of a man she no longer really knew, she heard the guardsman ride around to the carriage window.
Lachlan muttered an oath. Before she even realized what he was up to, he reached over to lift the shade on that side, then slid his free hand behind her neck to hold her still while he shoved his mouth against hers.
That was the only way to describe it. It certainly wasn’t a kiss, for his lips were as rigid and unmoving as rock. But to anyone looking at them from the outside, they would appear to be in an intimate embrace, two people in love.
The irony of it made her want to weep. Especially when he tugged her hair free of its pins, scattering it down her back to create the impression that they were in the midst of…that he was in the midst of…
“Not a sound, ye ken?” he murmured against her mouth. “Or I swear the guard dies.” He pressed the side of the gun against her ribs where her arm hid the muzzle from view. “If I don’t kill him, Jamie will.”
For a long moment they sat poised, with Lachlan’s pistol lying beneath her underarm and his mouth against hers in a mockery of their kisses last night.
Kisses he hadn’t meant. Kisses he’d given her only to lull her, to persuade her to go off with him today. Curse the wicked blackguard!
A horse snorted mere feet away and the guard’s gaze bore into her back through the window. Suddenly, the guard laughed and called out something to Lachlan’s accomplice. Then the carriage moved again, and her chance for any escape vanished into the wind.
It was too much for her. She bit Lachlan’s lip. Hard.
“Holy Christ!” he spat as he drew his head back. “What the bloody hell—”
“Let me go!” she cried, ignoring the pistol. Elbowing him in the ribs, she struggled wildly against his hold. “Let me go, you scoundrel!”
As a string of Scottish oaths poured from him, he practically tossed her across the carriage to get her off his lap. She scrambled into the other seat and glared at him, surprised to see that he’d gone entirely pale except for the brilliant scarlet of the blood trickling from his lower lip.
When he wiped it from his mouth with a curse, she refused to feel any guilt.
He was in for a surprise if he thought she’d continue to go meekly along with this madness. So he wanted to destroy her father, did he? Fine. But she would make him regret kidnapping her every step of the way.
Last night she’d made the mistake of relaxing the habits and practices of a lifetime. That had got her here, so no more. As Mrs. Harris always said, a lady’s weapons weren’t made of steel, but they could still cause harm. It was time to embrace them, to use whatever she had to fight.
Because no one took advantage of Lady Venetia Campbell with impunity. Not even the Scottish Scourge.
Chapter Six
Dear Charlotte,
Once more I find myself in the uneasy position of having to apologize for an insult I didn’t realize I had given. You seem to take offense easily these days. Is everything all right at the school? Or am I the only one who annoys you?
Your concerned friend,
Michael
Lachlan stared at his captive, not sure whether to throttle her or applaud her. Princess Proud had a fierce little temper. Who’d have thought it?
Mo chreach, she’d bit him hard. And that was before her elbow to his ribs had made him see stars. “You’ve turned into quite the termagant, Venetia .”
“At least I haven’t turned into a thief! At least I don’t prey on poor, defenseless women—”
“Defenseless? You bloody near bit my lip off!”
She glowered at him. “And if you ever try to force a kiss on me again, Lachlan Ross, I’ll finish the job.”
Force a kiss…the woman was trying his patience. “Dinna fash yerself, lassie,” he growled as he restored his pistol to the special pocket in his coat. “That kiss was purely for show.” It infuriated him that she could believe he would take advantage of her. Or that he would need to. “I can have any woman I want in Ross-shire; I don’t need to dally with the likes of Duncannon’s daughter to gain my pleasure.”
Her chin quivered. “And last night? Wasn’t that a dalliance?”
More like a mistake. “It was part of my plan, that’s all.” He wasn’t about to let the fearless female guess how badly he desired her. No telling what portion of his anatomy she’d destroy if she knew that, the little shrew.
But she didn’t look like a shrew just now. With her rich mane of ebony hair tumbled down about her shoulders, she looked young and wounded and vulnerable, as would any lass whose sheltered life had been shattered in a moment. Her loch-green eyes glimmered with so much dark hurt, it made him want to draw her back into his arms and kiss that sweet, trembling mouth.
“I can’t believe this,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’d never have guessed that the Scourge is you, that you could be capable of such treachery.”
“I only want what’s owed to me and my clan,” he ground out. “If you accuse anybody of treachery, it ought to be your blasted father.”
“Oh? What awful thing could he possibly have done to justify this?”
“Aside from trying to have me killed? Aside from ordering his men to—” He caught himself. If she knew she could torture him with just the jab of her elbow, the rest of the trip would be a nightmare.
“To what?”
He’d tell her only the barest facts of that. “To drown me.”
She stiffened. “Even if that’s true—and I doubt it—you can hardly blame him, given how you’ve been robbing all his friends for no reason.”
“No reason!” He snorted. Her self-righteousness helped him remember she was a means to his end, nothing more.
And it was high time the wench learned why. “I’ll give you a reason, Princess Proud. Your father is a thief and a liar. Thanks to him, my clan has been struggling since before I returned from the war.”
That wiped the haughty expression from her face. “What do you mean?”
“Did yer father ever tell you about yer Jacobite grandfather, Wily Will Campbell, the third Earl of Duncannon? One of the few Campbells who didn’t fig
ht with the English at Culloden?” When she nodded, he settled back against the seat. “After the ’45, Wily Will was stripped of his title, and his lands were forfeit to the Crown because he supported Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
“I know.” She folded her arms over her breasts…her too-ample breasts that were thankfully shielded from his gaze by that shroud of a purple gown. “Papa got Braidmuir back when the lands and dignities were returned to families in1784.”
“Not quite. The debts owing on the properties had to be paid first.”
She shrugged. “So Papa had to pay some money. What does that matter?”
“What ‘matters’ is how much. Forty thousand pounds, it was.”
The blood drained from her face.
He wasn’t surprised. Duncannon had kept the truth from everyone else; why not his daughter, too?
He went on in a cold voice. “Yer father was young and didn’t have forty thousand pounds, so he borrowed it. From my father, his closest friend, whose family stayed out of that mess and who owned a rich estate and fine lands.”
Her fingers plucked distractedly at the fabric of her sleeve. “Papa said something once when I was a girl…about how I should be nice to you because we owed your father a great debt. But I didn’t realize he meant it literally.”
“Well, he did.” His voice chilled. “And after yer mother died, he left Scotland and what was left of his ‘great debt’ behind him—thirty thousand two hundred and ninety-six pounds.”
She was already shaking her head. “I’d be the first to admit Papa’s faults, but he’d never renege on a debt, and certainly not such a large one. He has a strong moral sense.”
Ah, yes, Lachlan had been on the receiving end of that “moral sense” years ago. “He reneged. My mother told me of it after I returned. She said she urged Father to press the matter with the earl, but he wouldn’t.”
“I-I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t your father—”
“Devil if I know, though I’ll wager he was afraid of yer father’s powerful friends.” Gritting his teeth, he stared at her. “And we had money then to spare, fine crops, plenty cattle, and fat and happy crofters. I suppose since Father knew how hard Duncannon took his wife’s death, he let the loan slide for a bit.”
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