Claiming His Defiant Miss

by Bronwyn Scott

  May was in the middle of the street when the man moved a hand inside his coat. That was all the sign Liam needed. He rounded the corner and took the man from behind in a strangling bear hug that froze the man’s arms into place. He shoved the man up against the wall, face first, a hand at his neck, another running down the man’s body looking for a weapon. ‘What were you doing, staring at the lady?’ He kept his voice loud and gruff. Volume intimidated and it gave the guilty less time to think of an alibi.

  ‘N-nothing,’ the man stammered. ‘I didn’t mean nothing by it.’

  Liam gave him a frustrated shake. ‘Where’s your weapon?’ He hadn’t found one. Perhaps it was concealed, but that didn’t make sense. Hidden away in a secret pocket would prohibit the man from easily drawing it.

  ‘I ain’t got one. I’m a farmer, sir. What would I be carrying a weapon for?’ The man was starting to squirm, the rough side of the inn wall digging into his cheek. ‘Please, sir, I didn’t mean nothing by it, honest. I’m sorry I looked at your lady.’

  ‘Liam!’ He was aware of May coming up behind him.

  ‘Get in the gig,’ he growled. The last thing he needed was for her to put herself within arm’s reach of an attacker.

  ‘Liam, let him go!’ May stood her ground, refusing to budge. Had she no sense? ‘This is Evert Shambless, a sheep farmer. He lives a few miles out.’ She tugged at his arm.

  Reluctantly, Liam stepped back, releasing the man. ‘My pardon. I misunderstood the situation.’ He gave a curt nod. There was nothing else to say to the poor farmer. He’d apologised, but that was all he could do without explaining why he’d done it. He could feel May bristling beside him and he wanted to be far away from the centre of the village before her anger broke. He put a hand at May’s back. ‘Get in the gig. We need to go.’ He could imagine all too well the scolding May would heap on his head. She’d say he’d acted impulsively, that he was over-protective, paranoid. He picked up the reins and called to the horse, enjoying what remained of May’s silence.

  The silence lasted far longer than he thought it would. She sat beside him all the way home on the driver’s bench, her shoulders square, her head up, looking so collected, so refined. She was Damascus steel, beauty pounded into lethal perfection, and like steel, forged from heat and fire. He loved her for that. He hated her for that.

  The silence was becoming untenable. Perhaps that was what she wanted—for him to start the conversation that would most assuredly become an enormous row. He pulled the gig into the yard of her little house. May didn’t wait for him to help her down. She climbed out under her own power and followed him into the barn as he unhitched the horse.

  ‘Everyone will think you’re my lover.’ Her voice was stern and quiet in the interior of the barn. This was not what he’d expected when he’d anticipated her anger—not the quiet of her tone, nor the topic. He saw to the horse, waiting for May to continue. ‘You assaulted a man because he looked at me.’ May grabbed a brush and began to curry one side of the horse with short, furious strokes.

  ‘A gentleman can protect a lady’s honour without such aspersions being cast,’ Liam offered, studying her carefully. She had him off guard here. He needed a moment to anticipate where she was headed with this.

  ‘No one would mistake you for a gentleman. Not after that display today,’ May said crossly. She gave up on the horse, which was probably best, Liam mused. Being hacked away at with a curry brush probably wasn’t that enjoyable.

  ‘I am well aware of that.’ He put the horse in a stall and forked in some hay, trying to ignore the dig, trying to ignore the twinge that perhaps it mattered to May that he hadn’t pulled off the illusion.

  ‘Besides, even if that were up for discussion,’ May went on, ‘a gentleman doesn’t live in the same cottage with the object of his affections. It was one thing to have you here when it was put about you were sent to watch out for us as a friend of my brother’s. But now, who will believe that’s all it is?’

  Liam folded his arms and faced her. It was time to remind her what her priorities should be right now. ‘Concern over what the neighbours think about your chastity should be the least of your worries.’ He advanced on her, desperate to make her understand. He’d seen Cabot Roan cold-bloodedly execute a man in front of his family for double-crossing him. ‘Cabot Roan is likely after you. He and his men could already be in Scotland. You have no idea what that means. He is a dangerous man, not just because he sells arms to countries England doesn’t support. You do not want to be under his control, May. He’s not particularly kind to women, especially not the kind who fight him.’

  May took a step back, her chin jutting defiantly. ‘You’re trying to scare me.’

  ‘Yes, I damn well am. I want you scared.’ He kept coming. If she wouldn’t respect her lover, perhaps she’d respect her bodyguard. ‘I’m trying to provide you with some perspective. And, yes, you should be scared. You should have let me take you to Edinburgh straight away.’

  ‘No!’ May spat out immediately. There was so much vehemence in that one word. He wondered what the source of such resistance was? It was the same tone Preston had used when he’d begged for no doctors. Preston had been protecting others. What was May protecting? ‘No Edinburgh and you have to stop going about the village punching men who simply look suspicious.’

  ‘I can’t promise that, May. I have a job to do and that’s to protect you. If that means a few jaws get roughed up, then that’s what it means. I will not compromise on that. Your safety is not negotiable.’

  ‘Apparently, neither is my reputation. Is that expendable, too?’ They were standing toe to toe now. Her back was against the wall, there was no place for her to go. He could see her pupils widen with her emotion. May was never more delightful than when she was cornered.

  ‘And I have to protect you! That man had his hand inside his coat. He could have been reaching for a gun, May! I was wrong today, but I’d rather be wrong a hundred times than see you dead.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that would mar your perfect record. You must be successful at your job! And that’s what I am. A job you can’t afford to fail at. What would happen to your reputation?’ May’s voice had risen, her anger, her frustration, both of which had been mounting since his arrival, broke free of their tethers as she railed at him. ‘Well, I’m sorry you had to come here. I am sorry you have to protect me. I know I am the last person in the world you ever wanted to see. I am sorry that you hate me. I didn’t ask for this to happen any more than you did. But I would appreciate it if you’d stop playing the scowling martyr!’

  Is that what she thought? The words struck him with force. ‘I don’t hate you, May.’ He heard the resignation in his own tone. He’d accepted that years ago. He couldn’t hate her. She’d not chosen him. She’d simply acted according to her nature and the life she’d been raised to when she’d rejected him. He couldn’t hate someone for being who they were born to be. He might hate the situation, might hate how their past had gone down, but he didn’t hate her. Deep in his bones, he knew he never could. He would carry May Worth with him for the rest of his life, just like the scar on his cheek.

  He watched her raise a dark brow in doubting question. ‘You’ve given a good impression of it since you’ve been here.’

  ‘Then you’ve got the wrong impression.’ Wanted her, lusted for her, understood he had to impose some limits on their association in order to keep the past from repeating itself: those were all things he’d admit to since he’d been here. But not hating her.

  Something dangerous glittered in her eyes. Her pulse was starting to race at the base of her neck as her breath caught. ‘Then prove it.’

  That was when the leash of his restraint broke. ‘Damn right I’ll prove it.’ He took a half step, made a slight turn of his body and pinned her to the wall, obliterating two weeks of hard-won discipline.

  Chapter Tenr />
  She’d done it now. She’d poked the dragon and now it was awake, wide awake, and bent on ravaging. Her body thrilled to the roughness of him, the intensity of him. Her mouth opened to him, all too eager to let the dragon plunder. Her senses were on high alert; she could feel the crudeness of the wood at her back, smell the scent of hay and horses mixed with the scent of her man, soap and leather mingled with sweat, a reminder that Liam Casek was no pampered dandy. In this regard, Preston’s experiment had failed.

  No gentleman would take a lady like this, against a wall in a barn with no prelude. She arched her neck, giving him access to her throat. A little moan escaped her; a mewl of desperation mixed with abdication. She couldn’t fight her want today, couldn’t seek to understand it, not after what he’d done for her in the village. He’d risked his body for her and, when that had proven to be unnecessary, he’d risked embarrassment. Everyone had seen what he’d done and ostensibly why he’d done it. For the sake of her safety, he hadn’t bothered to explain the real reason for his actions. He could have exonerated himself in a single sentence. I’m her bodyguard. For that matter, he could have exonerated her. But at what cost? Perhaps more than exoneration was worth. She could see that now when it was too late. She’d already scolded him, accused him of squandering her reputation only to recognise his choice had not been made out of malicious intention. The fierceness of his words still resonated. I don’t hate you. What did those words mean?

  ‘It’s not a lie, May. I am your lover, whether you want anyone to know or not.’ The stubble of his beard rasped against her cheek, his body hard against her, his hand rucking up her skirts, pressing against her, cupping her. This time she didn’t stop him. The passion between them had always been beyond words, beyond reason. Her body wanted this, wanted him. She could construct her explanations later.

  She hitched a leg about his waist and he lifted her, she encircled his waist with both legs as he settled her against the wall, his voice a soft growl at her ear. ‘Say you want me, May.’

  ‘I want you.’ The words escaped her in a strangled whisper before she could call them back, before she could think about them too much. She thought she’d say anything in these moments to calm her body. Desire and remembrance coursed through her until she was wet with it, until her pulse thrummed with it, proof that Liam Casek was in her blood.

  How had she thought she didn’t need this? Didn’t need him? Her hand was between them, reaching for him, fumbling for him at the fastenings of his trousers until his hand closed over hers, working the flies with her. Then, he was free and hot in her hand at last and she cried out with the joy of it. She ran her hand down the long length of him, feeling unbridled life running through him as she edged him towards her entrance, to the place that ached for him.

  ‘Easy, May. I know where it goes.’ His voice was warm at her ear, his body pressed against hers, the tightness of his muscles a testament to his own eagerness. She was not alone in this. His hand slipped between them, testing her readiness beyond words. ‘Good heavens, May, you’ll drive a man crazy with that kind of wanting.’

  She answered with a fierce kiss. ‘Only you.’ She felt him push inside then, her body stretching to accommodate, stretching with memories. They’d done this before, years ago. But memories had soft edges. Not even memories had prepared her for this: for the powerful thrust of his body, for the spasms of pleasure that took her and teased her with each stroke of more pleasure to come. She was helpless against the onslaught. All she could do was hold him tight, keep him deep inside her as the pleasure grew. Towards the end, she heard herself cry out, her head thrown back against the wall in abandon, her body vaguely aware of how the ultimate pleasure was achieved. Liam had taken her all the way and seen to her deliverance first before he spilled himself against her leg, protecting her to the very last.

  * * *

  She dreamed of him that night; of the first time they’d come together towards the end of that magical summer when touching and petting, lying in the grass, holding one another so close their bodies shared no secrets and such intimacy was no longer enough to express or suppress the wildfire that raged through them. It had been the day after he’d asked her to run away to America with him and they had fought. Desperation had driven them, both of them seeing the end nearing.

  He’d been rugged even then, dark hair falling into his face, eyes mischievous and laughing as he dared her to challenge convention. She remembered those moments with shocking clarity; the sky had been blue like his eyes, the sun over his shoulder as she looked up into those laughing eyes, the young muscles of his arms straining as he rose up over her, a defiant god and she his goddess. The dare had been to convention, not to love him. Loving had never been part of the challenge. She did not have to be dared to love him. She would have loved him regardless. He made her feel immortal, especially when he was inside her. They’d been immortal together in those days, daring to fly so close to the sun. They’d not been careful in those days like they had been earlier in the barn. In those days, they laughed at risk, they played the odds, vowing whatever came they’d face it together. They were Romeo and Juliet, only smarter. No one and nothing could come between them. Until, of course, someone, something, had.

  May was glad she woke when she did, the dream ending with the two of them walking back towards home, hand in hand, the sun setting behind them. It was easier to remember the pleasant memories. But not safer. Oh, no. Waking only brought questions and what ifs. What if she’d gone with him when he’d asked? What if she’d stood up to her father at the critical moment?

  I don’t hate you. He should have, though. Heavens knew she would hate her if their places had been reversed. She’d denied him. In one single choice, she’d betrayed their young love. Liam should never have put you in that position! came the old familiar rebuttal, tired and perhaps true. He’d discussed none of it with her, had never told her what he was planning and then when the moment came, he’d put her on the spot and forced her to choose without warning.

  May squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her pillow tight. She didn’t want to remember that day. That day had changed her. That had been the day she’d sworn to herself that no man would ever hurt her like that again; not her father, not a lover and certainly not a husband. She would not give any man carte blanche over her life. If her parents wanted to know why she was still on the market after three Seasons, that was a large part of it, the other part being Liam himself. He’d proven more than the non-existence of his hatred in the barn today. He’d proven that she’d been right—no other man could possibly measure up. But that didn’t change the fact that what they had was ruined and she’d ruined it, years ago.

  The past couldn’t be changed. Perhaps the only question that mattered was how it affected the present. If he didn’t hate her, did that mean he loved her? Or could love her? Had never stopped loving her? Or had he simply resigned himself to more neutral feelings that were neither love nor hate? Was such neutrality even possible after what had passed between them this afternoon? A man who was ambivalent didn’t love a woman like that; hard and rough with everything he possessed up against a barn wall until she screamed, and even in the throes of passion had forsaken his own complete release to keep her safe.

  It made her wonder, as late-night thoughts were wont to do, if there was a chance for them. But a chance for what? A grand fairy-tale romance that defied convention and succeeded? They’d already done the defied-convention piece. It was the success part that had eluded them and might elude them yet. A happy ending seemed unlikely. However, could there be a chance to recapture the passion for a short time? Possibly. Her body began to hum at such a prospect while her mind counselled caution. Anything was possible in the dark, after all. The night was notorious for breeding impossible dreams. It was what happened in the morning when those dreams met their tests that counted. In their naïve hopefulness, those dreams hadn’t fared well.

  P
erhaps this time it could be different. Perhaps with the worldliness that came with age and the wisdom of hindsight, they could simply enjoy one another’s bodies without the emotional commitment and the expectations that commitment led to. Was that what the barn had been about? A first step towards a temporary affair? Would she truly settle for that with Liam simply to let him go again? Could she engage in a physical affair and not want more from him than the prowess of his body? It had never just been sex with him, there’d always been so much more. This time around, she’d be settling for less. In exchange for protecting yourself? You can’t get your heart broken if you don’t engage it. But she had an answer for that, too. Perhaps something was better than nothing and she’d never know if she didn’t ask. The next move had to come from her. He’d quite firmly established that today. He’d made his overture in the barn. Now, she had to respond and that response had the power to set the tone for what happened next.

  * * *

  May was no coward. She woke the next morning, fully determined to take matters into her own hands and put the proposition to Liam. It might go a long way in dispersing the unresolved tension between them. Apparently, it was on his mind as well. He was already out of the house by the time she made it to the kitchen. May smiled to herself as she set out the breakfast dishes. Liam had been here. She could always tell when he was up because he started the fire—a thoughtful gesture and another reminder that he was no gentleman in the best of ways. She put the iron pot on for porridge, saving the eggs for Bea. She’d get Liam’s breakfast started and then take breakfast in to Bea.

  * * *

  At eight, Liam came into the kitchen, carefully stomping his boots against the step to rid the soles of dirt. ‘Breakfast smells good.’