Beware a Scot's Revenge

by Sabrina Jeffries

  A glance at Lachlan’s grim face made her shiver. Who knew what might happen to her? He said he wouldn’t hurt her, but could she believe him? He wasn’t the same man she’d once known. He had a fierceness, a chilling resolve about him. His willingness last night to use kisses to further his plan showed that.

  She had to escape him. But how?

  When they’d stopped to change horses, he’d made her sit as before, with the pistol aimed at the only window whose shade was open. The threat was always that if she gave an alarm, someone would die.

  She wanted to believe it an idle threat, but dared not risk it. So her only alternative was somehow to seize his firearm. If he’d just fall asleep…

  By the end of their next stop, she wanted to scream. As soon as they left the coaching inn yard, she threw herself across to the other seat with an oath.

  “I don’t know why you insist on going back over there,” he said calmly. “I’ll just have to make you move again the next time we change horses.”

  “How long do you mean to continue this nonsense?” She couldn’t see the sun setting, since the shade was down on the west-facing window, but it must be nearly eight o’clock on this long summer day. “Do you mean for us to travel all night?”

  “Aye.”

  The terse word sounded the death knell to her hopes for escape. If he didn’t stop at an inn longer than to change horses, how would she ever get away?

  And if she couldn’t get away…

  The full ramifications hit her with a force that knocked the breath from her. If she traveled alone with him for more than a day, she’d be ruined. No one in society would care that it was a kidnapping. He was a man; she was unmarried. That would be enough.

  “This means the end of my reputation,” she whispered, half to herself.

  For the first time in hours, he really looked at her. “Not if yer father and yer aunt heed my instructions to keep this quiet. They’re sly enough to invent a tale for your sudden absence. And once I settle this matter with yer father—”

  “How do you mean to do that?”

  His expression grew shuttered. “Never you mind how.”

  This only grew worse and worse. “You’re going to kill him.”

  He returned his gaze to the window. “I didn’t say that.”

  But he hadn’t denied it, either. She rubbed her clammy hands on her skirt. “If you kill him, you’ll be hanged, for it will come out that you’re the Scourge.”

  “The Scourge is dead, and I mean for it to stay that way. That’s why I told yer father and yer aunt not to risk yer life by saying otherwise.”

  “And if Papa refuses to play your game? Do you really think he’ll hand over thirty thousand pounds to you without a fight?”

  “He’d better if he wants his daughter back.”

  “But what if he doesn’t?” she persisted.

  His gaze swept down her body in a slow, heated glance. “Then I get to keep you, don’t I?” he said, his voice husky.

  The provocative comment shot a thrill through her before she could stop it. A thrill of fear. Yes, it had to be. Surely she wasn’t fool enough to still find him attractive. He was her enemy, not the Lachlan of her dreams. He was the villain behind the ballad hero who’d taken her mouth so sweetly in the dark.

  So why were her mouth and throat suddenly dry, her hands suddenly shaky? And why, when his gaze darkened to jet black, then fixed on her lips, did her skin come alive, her pulse quickening?

  Curse him for that. “Keeping me is not a choice.”

  That seemed to jerk him up short. Swiftly, he yanked his gaze over to the window. “Yer father will come for you. Don’t worry about that.”

  Her stomach knotted. Lord save her, now she had something new to worry about. Lachlan might despise her for being her father’s daughter, but he wanted her, too, in the way that men wanted women.

  She’d seen that heated look on the faces of society men who’d danced with her, and she’d never let it bother her. Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore it with a man who had complete power over her. A man who’d kissed her passionately only last night.

  Not that she would let him kiss her now, no indeed. If he so much as tried it, she would make good on her threat to bite him.

  He pulled aside the shade, then frowned. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll sleep. We’ve a long trip ahead of us.”

  She had to escape. She had to convince him to let her leave the carriage the next time they stopped. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. She did have certain physical needs; he’d have to stop for that. “It’s not sleep that I require.”

  He raised his brow at her clipped tone. “I’ve got plenty of provisions—”

  “I’m not hungry, curse you.” She was starving. It had been a long, long while since her last meal, but asking for food wouldn’t get her out of the coach, would it?

  How could she explain this to a man delicately? “I need you to stop the carriage.”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Not bloody likely.”

  “It’s most urgent that I…Sometimes a woman…or anyone…has to—”

  “Drink something? Is it water you’re needing?”

  “No!” How could he be so dense? “The last thing I need is water.”

  The light dawned. “Ahh, you have to piss. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  She glared at him. “Because I’m not as vulgar as you.”

  “No, you’re too lofty for pissing.” A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “I could make a ballad of that for your collection, if you want: ‘Princess Proud hates to piss / She thinks it’s something crass. / And when she goes to ease herself, / Someone else must wipe her—’ ”

  “That’s enough.” A blush heated her cheeks. “And that isn’t remotely a ballad. It’s doggerel, and bad doggerel at that.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He slid open the panel behind his head. “Jamie, we need to stop. The lass has got to piss.”

  “Aye, sir,” the young man said, and instantly the coach slowed.

  “Not here!” she protested. “At the next place we change the horses!”

  Lachlan arched one thick eyebrow. “You said it was urgent.”

  “I can wait until we stop where there’s a…well, you know.”

  “A privy?” He eyed her with cool calm. “If you’re thinking I’ll let you parade through an inn complaining about your abduction, think again, lassie. It’s here or nowhere.”

  Ooh, how she wished she could slap that calm from his face, then shove him out of the coach with a satisfying thump. What had Aunt Maggie said?You wouldn’t last one day with a ‘Highland Laddie’ before you wanted to hit him over the head with the jar. How sad that she’d turned out to be right.

  As the carriage halted, Venetia stared out the window. No trees or bushes for miles, just fields everywhere. “I can’t…you know…out there, for pity’s sake. Anyone could see me!”

  “No one’s around to see. Make up your mind—do you need to piss or no?”

  Casting him a foul glance, she reached for the door handle. “Must you keep using that vulgar word?”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “I find it most entertaining to watch you get your dander up.”

  “You really are a blackguard,” she grumbled as she climbed out of the carriage. “Clearly you’ve been riding the roads with ruffians far too long. You’ve forgotten how to behave like a gentleman. If you ever knew.”

  To her horror, he stepped out after her and took her arm.

  She snatched it free. “You can’t possibly mean to accompany me!”

  “I can, and I will. You’re daft enough to try running off over these hills, and I’m in no mood for running after you.”

  “Lachlan, please, give me some privacy—”

  “We won’t watch, I promise. But I’m not letting you more than a few feet from me, so you might as well get used to it.”

  With a sigh, she relinquished her hopes for escaping him here. But despair dogged her steps as th
ey left the carriage. Why must everything be his way?

  The beast halted beside a shallow ravine. “Down there you’ll be out of sight of the road. I’ll put my back to you, but you have to talk to me the whole time. If you’re quiet more than a moment, I’ll turn around. Understood?”

  Gritting her teeth, she nodded, then descended the few yards to the bottom.

  She’d barely found a place to stand when he barked, “Talk to me, lass.”

  She cursed him soundly.

  He chuckled. “That’ll do fine, it will.”

  Lifting her skirts, she scrambled for something to say. “Are we headed to Rosscraig?”

  “A place near there. It’s where I’ve been living ever since your father sent men to kill me.”

  “Someone may have tried to have you killed, but it wasn’t Papa. A man like you probably has hundreds of enemies.”

  “None who proclaim their connection to yer father right before they—” He broke off suddenly.

  “Before they what?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped. “Just do what you’re supposed to, will you, Princess Proud? And hurry it up.”

  “I would appreciate your not calling me that.” She finished relieving herself. “We aren’t children anymore, after all.”

  “That’s for damned sure,” he muttered, almost to himself.

  She glanced at him in alarm, but he still had his back to her. Perhaps there was some measure of civilized man lurking inside him, after all. Perhaps she’d been going about this all wrong, fighting him when she should be cozying up to him, lulling him into lowering his guard.

  She walked up the ravine. “I’m done. And I do appreciate—” She broke off as she cleared the top. “Oh, my word.”

  Lachlan glanced over at her. “What?”

  The sun set over the mountains far beyond, casting the heights in plum-hued shadows of regal beauty. With the shade down in the coach, she’d missed this glorious view. Lavenders spilled into pinks that spilled into sunbursts so vibrant, they stung her eyes. “I haven’t been home in so long,” she whispered. “And there it is, smiling at me from the distance.”

  His gaze followed the direction of her hand, and his face softened.

  “The tall mountain there is Ben Lawers.”

  She let out a breath. “It’s like looking at a dream. A haunting, ancient dream that has teased me ever since I left. It’s so very lovely.”

  “Aye, that it is, lass.”

  Glancing up at his face, she was surprised to see pleasure shining there. “You always said you hated the Highlands . You couldn’t wait to be away.”

  “I was a fool, too full of myself to recognize what’s important.”

  “And what is that?”

  That fierce look stole over his face again, and he looked the very picture of a Highland warrior. “Home. A man’s kin. It’s where I belong, and that will ne’er change.” Then he took her arm with impatience. “Back to the carriage, my lady. Move along.”

  She walked beside him in silence. What had she said to upset him? As a boy, he’d been capable of laughter. This surly Lachlan was a stranger to her.

  As they climbed in the carriage and she settled into her seat, Lachlan ordered Jamie to drive on. She reached to lift the other shade, wanting to keep the view in her sights as they traveled, but he stayed her hand. “Leave it shut.”

  “Why?” She struggled against him. “We’re miles from anywhere. No one will see.”

  He held her hand in a crushing grip. “Leave it shut, or I’ll tie you up.”

  She stopped fighting him. She’d never be able to escape if he bound her.

  When he saw that he’d won yet again, he released her. Throwing herself back against the seat, she struggled to restrain her temper. Getting angry hadn’t worked very well so far.

  Once she could trust herself to speak evenly, she said, “All I wanted was to see the mountains. Surely that isn’t such a—”

  “You think I don’t know what you’re about? You with yer fancy words about the Highlands …you’re trying to soften me up so I’ll let you go.” Crossing his arms over his brawny chest, he scowled at her. “Turning me up sweet won’t work any better than baring yer teeth at me.”

  The brooding look, his belligerent stance…for a fleeting second it seemed like so much bravado, the sort boys showed when forced to do things they hated.

  What was she thinking? This man had robbed innocent travelers without a thought, kidnapped her friends, and lied his way into her good graces so he could kidnap her, too. He might have a boy’s selfishness, but the will behind it was a man’s. And that man could very easily ruin her life forever.

  But that didn’t mean she had to let him.

  Throwing back her shoulders, she took on the superior posture she’d learned so well at Mrs. Harris’s school. “Since being nice to you offends you and biting you is out of the question, how should I proceed? Insults? Polite conversation? Tears? Is there anything I can do that will not annoy you?”

  She could probably have cracked ice on his stiff jaw. “Keeping quiet would do the trick, lassie.”

  “No chance of that, laddie,” she shot back, aping his brogue. “The least you can do after kidnapping me is allow me a way to entertain myself.” She flashed him a syrupy smile. “Perhaps I shall sing. I have a rather extensive repertoire of ballads.” And they did say that music soothed the savage beast.

  “No singing. I remember yer singing. It’s nothing I care to hear again.”

  Oh, of all the obnoxious insults. “I was six years old when I warbled that silly tune you’re thinking of. I assure you, my singing is vastly improved.”

  “You want entertainment?” Jerking a knapsack from beneath the seat, he rummaged through it, then tossed an object at her. “Eat something. At least it’ll gain me a few moments peace.”

  She tossed the paper-wrapped packet back at him. “No, thank you.” She wasn’t about to give him any peace.

  His eyes narrowed. “I know it’s not fancy fare, but surely even a fine lady like yerself won’t turn up her nose at roast beef sandwiches.”

  Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. “If you want me to eat, you’ll stop this coach and give me a proper meal.”

  “Oh, a proper meal is what the stiff-necked lady is wanting, is it?” He sat back in the seat, opened the packet, and pulled out what looked to be a very good sandwich. Waiting until he had her mouth watering, he held it out to her. “We’re not stopping for any proper meals, so get that notion out of yer head. And starving yerself won’t get you away from me either, so you might as well eat.”

  “I shall not eat until you return me to Edinburgh .” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And there’s nothing you can do to make me.”

  He stared at her, then began to devour the sandwich. “Suit yerself, my lady.”

  For a moment, silence reigned in the carriage as she fought to ignore the tempting aroma of roast beef. And was that mustard she smelled?

  “I probably shouldn’t feed you anyway,” he finally said.

  She remained silent.

  “The more famished you get, the less trouble you’ll give me.”

  She glared at him.

  “With you too weak to run off or fight, I should be able to—”

  “Oh, give me a sandwich, curse you.” Leave it to a beast like him to call her bluff. And to hit on the one reason she should eat.

  Eyes gleaming with triumph, he handed her another packet, then continued searching his knapsack. “There’s apples, too.”

  She removed her gloves, unwrapped the packet, then laid the paper primly out on her lap to use as her plate. He stopped rummaging to watch as she meticulously tore the sandwich into more manageable pieces.

  “What the devil are you doing?” he asked.

  “Eating the sandwich.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re dissecting it.”

  She popped a piece in her mouth, chewed it ten times, then swallowed. “This is how I eat a sandwi
ch, sir.”

  “Why?”

  Years of habit. Mama had taught her to eat that way because of her tendency to wolf her food. But why tell him that when she could annoy him instead? “This is how civilized people eat. But of course, a man like you wouldn’t understand.”

  She had to suppress her smile when he scowled. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re being abducted. It isn’t the time to be worrying about yer proprieties.”

  “Good manners are always appropriate. Indeed, the true measure of a lady is how she behaves in the most difficult of times.” When he snorted, she said, “I assume you were taught something similar in the army, to cling to discipline no matter what. Though you’ve clearly ignored that training in recent years.”

  “Ah, yes, discipline,” he said with clear sarcasm. “The English word for ‘stand and be killed if we say so.’ ”

  She eyed him askance. “Isn’t that what all soldiers do?”

  “Soldiers fight. But when there’s no way to fight and your commanding officer—” He cursed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I could try,” she pointed out.

  He sat back and changed the subject. “So that’s what they taught you at yer fancy school, is it?” He flicked a hand to indicate her makeshift plate. “How to eat a sandwich like an English lady?”

  With a sigh, she picked up a piece of sandwich. “Among other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “How to sing,” she said pointedly. “How to address one’s betters, how to walk, how to speak French—”

  “How to catch a husband.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “How to catch the right husband. Mrs. Harris was determined that we learn to distinguish a scoundrel from a gentleman.” Her voice turned bitter. “Though apparently I didn’t learn that lesson very well.”

  He stared at her, something almost like guilt crossing his features. When she grew uncomfortable and broke the glance, he returned to hunting through the knapsack. As she finished her sandwich, he set an apple atop her improvised plate.