Lord Sebastian and the Scottish Lass

by Christine Donovan

  Heat tinged her cheeks. “Hard tae miss when one intense eye was concentrated on me.” Thinking about that one good eye clouded with pain and confusion made her want to help him recover so she could see them both, clear and pain free. She shivered at the thought of having his eyes riveted on hers.

  “Why has yer face turned red?”

  She tossed a cloth at Lachlan. “It isnae.” She frowned as she studied the man’s face. “Who do ye think he is? Can we trust him even though I suspect he is English? He could still be working for Paw? All that aside, is his family or perhaps a wife frantic with worry wondering where he is? Is he alive? I didnae see a third horse with the highwaymen, where do ye suppose his mount went off too?” Gently she wrapped a clean bandage around his head. It took all her will to concentrate on the task at hand and not get lost in his almost boyish good looks. Why did sleeping men always resemble innocent young boys when all their features were relaxed in rest? Even evil men could look innocent in sleep. Was this stranger, perhaps an enemy? Although she didn’t think so. After finishing tying the bandages, she moved an errant lock of hair out from his eyes. Eyes she could hardly wait to see again.

  What was she thinking? Recently she managed to escape the clutches of the meanest, cruelest man in all of Scotland, she didn’t need to be thinking of this one.

  “Will ye stay with him whilst ah heat up the stew leftover from yesterday?”

  ***

  After his sister left, Lachlan studied the unconscious man and wondered what spell he cast on Teagan. He’d never seen her take such care with a patient, or blush profusely, never mind the longing look in her eyes as she tended him. As much as his instincts made him believe the man wasn’t one of his father’s henchmen, he had an uneasy tingle in his spine. They had to keep their true identity from this man. They would have to abstain from using their given names while in his company.

  Rising from the old battered wooden chair with the wobbly legs, he went into the main room and stood by his sister’s side as she heated the stew in the large fireplace. “We need tae use the names we adopted when we escaped from Murray Castle, Maggie and Brice McHugh. And remember our story about our parents’ dying two months ago and we sought relatives here in Northumberland only tae find they had moved on. So we decided tae stay and find work.”

  “Do ye really think ‘tis necessary with this mon?”

  More of those infernal tingles traveled up and down his spine. “Aye, ah bloody hell do.

  Chapter Two

  Two Months Earlier

  Murray Castle

  Scotland

  Witnessing her mother take her last breath and go to the afterlife, Teagan hugged herself and shivered with uncertainty. Her mother was all that stood between her and her father. Who would keep him from insisting she marry that barbarian, Malcolm MacPherson? It was 1818 and the man still lived like it was medieval times. Tears rolled down her face as much for her mother as for herself and her fragile future. Her mother had suffered greatly the past months and Teagan sighed with relief, knowing she was in a far better place now, but couldn’t she have lived a little bit longer? Kept her and her twin brother safe for a while longer?

  If her father had his way he would send her off to MacPherson and see the wedding take place this evening. Why was it so important to him that she marry that man? The clans were not at war, so why? Was the man’s loyalty to her father that necessary? Did her father have greedy plans in the workings? Not having these answers had her wanting to scream at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t herself alone she worried about. Their father hated her brother, Lachlan. Teagan had no idea when the hatred began, or for what reason. All she could remember was it was always so. Father loved his youngest son, Ian. With their mother gone to keep the peace, what would happen to them?

  She had not long to find out. On the eve of her mother’s burial, as she readied herself for bed with a heavy heart, someone knocked on her door. Believing it to be Lachlan, she opened it without asking and was thrown back when MacPherson, the man she feared most besides her father, stormed through the door. Slamming it closed, he turned the key she always left in the lock, pocketed it, and leered at her with lust filled black eyes.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Teagan questioned with bravado that didn’t exist as she backed up, her eyes wide. Fear unlike any she’d ever known gripped her insides.

  “Yer paw has given me ye. We will marry in the morning.” His beady eyes roamed up and down her body making her skin crawl.

  “Then our wedding night will take place tomorrow.” Try as she might to appear calm and in control her voice trembled as she said the words. “Not this evening.”

  Roaring laughter shook the giant of a man dressed in a filthy tartan. The dirt was so thick it coated the fabric and his body to the extent she could not make out the pattern of his clan. Obviously he didn’t believe in bathing on a regular basis—or ever. “According to yer paw, ye belong tae me now, and ah can do as ah want.” He stepped closer to her, his putrid breath nearly felling her as he reached out his grimy hand to squeeze her breast painfully. She batted his hand away and rage flashed in his eyes, quickly to be replaced with lust again. He chuckled. “Ye like it rough? Ye want tae spank me and I’ll spank ye?”

  As he lunged for her and rolled on top of her, she clawed at his face, drawing blood. It didn’t deter him. The sound of cloth ripping vibrated in her ears and cool air landed on her exposed skin. In a matter of seconds he’d rendered her naked. Oh my God, I would rather die than submit tae this animal. How could Paw do this tae me?

  Maybe she could stall for time by engaging him in conversation. “Malcolm, please tell me about yerself and yer clan? I ken nothing about ye and wish tae get tae ken ye better.”

  “Stop squawking lass. I like my women either moaning or screaming. A woman’s mouth should be used for eating food or for sucking cock. Get used tae my rules now and we’ll get along just fine.”

  He could not be serious. Suck...his...Tears pooled in her eyes, and she was afraid she might be sick at the thought of putting her mouth anywhere on this disgusting creature.

  Every muscle in her body tensed when his knee forcefully parted her legs and he rose up, lifted his tartan, giving her an eyeful of his grotesquely engorged sex. “Nay, nay, nay,” she moaned as she closed her eyes and willed her brain to tell her what to do. She would not let that...that thing soil her body. Then she remembered something Lachlan told her. “If a mon forces himself on ye, hurt him between his legs. Either knee him or grab him with yer hands and twist and squeeze with all yer strength.”

  But how? Her legs were pinned beneath his lower body eliminating the knee. She uncurled her hand, reached down and filled her palm with his large hairy balls and with every ounce of energy she yanked and twisted.

  An animalistic scream burst from his lips, he cupped himself, fell on top of her and vomited onto the floor, barely missing her head. Using her arms she shoved him off her then scrambled to her feet seeking escape. The only way out was the locked heavy wooden door or the window three stories up. She would take her chances and throw herself out the window if necessary. Death would be welcome.

  She knew her time was running out as MacPherson struggled to stand. “Ah will kill ye bitch.” He growled.

  Without thinking about her choices, she threw the dress she’d worn that day on, grabbed her boots and headed to the window, but she paused at the sound of someone banging on her door.

  “Teagan, Teagan, are ye in there?” Lachlan yelled.

  “Lachlan, help me. Malcolm’s in here. He tried tae rape me.”

  “Open the door.”

  “He has the key.”

  Her enemy was on his feet coming toward her, murder in his eyes. She was forced toward the fireplace. Reaching out blindly, she grabbed the wrought iron poker and swung at his head with all her might. He went down and landed in a twisted heap. His head oozed copious amounts of blood, and she fought the bile rising up her throat. She put her trembling fi
ngers in his filthy sporran and removed her room key. She ran to the door, fingers shaking so badly it took her three tries to get the key in the lock and turn it to let her brother in. Lachlan stepped inside and quickly locked the door behind him.

  “Quick, pack a satchel, we leave now.” Lachlan, gripping his drooping shoulder, went to MacPherson and inspected him. “Damn, he still lives.”

  “What happened to ye?” Her eyes widened in shock to see the blood soaking through his white shirt.

  “Paw shot me. He wants me dead. We must leave now.”

  “Not until ah tend yer wound.” As she spoke she hurried to her healing herbs on her dressing table.

  “Nay. Do ye want that thing tae awaken and finish what he started with ye?”

  “God nay.”

  Afraid to light a candle, they used their hands to feel their way through the pitch dark castle. Teagan’s heart pounded so loud in her chest, she thought her father would hear it wherever he was. When they reached the servants staircase, she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but knew it was too soon to believe they were safe. Their servants might dislike her father, but they were terrified of him and would betray her and Lachlan to save from being beaten or worse. Lachlan paused at the door to the outside.

  “Taking horses is tae risky, we go on foot,” he whispered.

  As her brother slowly opened the thankfully well-oiled heavy door, the crisp night breeze caressed her face. They took a moment to adjust their sight to the darkness. Clouds prevented the moon from lighting up an escape path for them. However, under the midnight dark sky, they could sneak away without being spotted by their father’s men.

  They hurried across the expanse of green lawn. Teagan barely breathed as they ran. She expected to hear shouts from her father’s men giving them away. When silence stayed with them, they pushed on into the cover of the forest.

  “Ah realize ‘tis dangerous tae keep going in the dark, but we must. We need tae put as many miles between us and Paw,” Lachlan said breathlessly. “Because when he finds us gone, he will send his most experienced soldiers and trackers after us.”

  “Aye. Ah agree.”

  “Stay close on my heels. I’ll try tae keep ye safe from low lying branches. We are not taking the path. They will come on horseback and be upon us quickly.”

  “How long will it take us tae travel on foot tae Grandpaw’s or our uncles?”

  “We go tae England.”

  Because of the darkness she could not see Lachlan’s face, but by the sadness in his voice she shivered and not from the chilly night air. Afraid to ask, but knowing she had to she said, “Why?”

  “Because Paw had them killed.”

  “Killed?” she cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand. They needed to be silent or they would be dead as well. Tears welled in her eyes and her throat burned. Dead? Why?

  “When we are safe, ah will tell ye all. But please, keep silent and follow close behind me...”

  Lachlan did not have to finish the sentence for her to know he silently added the words “or we are dead a well.”

  They pushed on during the night and most of the next day, heading south toward England. Fortunately, as the day became late, they found an abandoned shack and rested until sundown eating dried beef and stale bread Lachlan had packed. If they rationed their food and water it may last three days. Not nearly the amount of time it would take them to cross onto English soil.

  They continued to rest during the afternoons. Lachlan hunted squirrels and rabbits to keep them sustained. At night they resumed their trek until finally they reached a small village outside of Northumberland, settled in an abandoned cottage, and created new names. Teagan knew they wouldn’t be safe forever, but they needed to rest before they purchased horses to continue on to London, seeking help from the Prince Regent. After all, Lachlan was the true heir to their father, The Duke of Tremont. Teagan prayed the prince would and could help them.

  After settling in, Lachlan procured a job with the local blacksmith. They didn’t need the coin, but in order to fit in with the local folks, Lachlan needed to work. As a young lad, when trying to escape from their father he would hide at the blacksmith’s shop. Over the years, he learned the trade, never thinking he might need it someday to earn a living. Thank God he had. They also volunteered their services helping the locals hunt down the highwaymen terrorizing the small village. It went a long way in making the locals trust them. Newcomers were not well accepted or liked in this part of England. Nor were Scots. Something Teagan and Lachlan hoped to remedy to their advantage. If their father ever did find them, they would need trusted friends to help them escape him once again.

  Chapter Three

  “Marissa. Marissa.”

  The voice of the patient startled Teagan awake from her perch on a wooden chair at his bedside just as nearby roosters crowed. “Easy. Relax,” she said in a soothing voice as she dipped a clean cloth in cool water, squeezed out the excess and bathed his face, neck, and chest. Sometime during the night he’d developed a fever.

  As she gently ran the cloth across his brow she said softly, “Who is Marissa? Is she yer wife, yer betrothed, or yer mistress?” Does she possess yer heart? For some unfathomable reason, Teagan didn’t want his heart to belong to another woman. As she bathed his chest, lightly sprinkled with fair hair, her hands quivered and her breathing increased.

  Who was this man? And why did his blue eyes plague her restless sleep? Having no answers to her questions, she placed the cloth in the chipped basin and went into the main room to mix a potent drink with healing herbs, hoping to get him to take some. She would do anything to keep him alive. If he died she would, for the remainder of her life, wonder about him. Think about him.

  Back at his bedside, she inspected his wounds for infection. All looked much the same as yesterday. There was no rancid odor, which was a good sign. The fever was due to something else. Something she could not see.

  “Good, ye are up,” Teagan said to Lachlan when he entered the room rubbing his eyes. “Could ye help prop him up while ah get him tae drink?”

  “Is that...” Her brother winced at the black concoction.

  “Aye. And if ah recall ah saved your sorry arse with it more than once. Move him a little higher.”

  “Bossy this morning, aren’t ya lass?”

  “I’m trying tae save a life here. And ah added some of yer brandy tae help with the taste and the pain. If only we had laudanum.”

  “A stranger gets special treatment, but ah as yer brother didn’t?”

  She laughed. “Ah added brandy tae yers as weel, ah just didn’t tell ye. Now steady while ah force his mouth open, hopefully without him biting my fingers off.” Teagan knelt on the side of the bed and reached for his jaw, pulling it down. No luck, his teeth were mashed up tight. She tried to use her fingers to pry his mouth open. Didn’t work. “Pinch his nose for me, that’ll get him tae open his mouth. When ah pour it in and close his lips, keep his nose pinched until he swallows.”

  Lachlan did as she said and sure enough the injured man opened his mouth to gasp for air and she poured some medicine in and quickly closed his mouth, hoping he would swallow. He did, only to begin coughing and some of it sprayed her face. She grabbed a cloth and first wiped her face then his mouth and chin.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” said her patient in a weak voice.

  “Quite the contrary. We’re trying tae save yer life.” Teagan waited, hoping his good eye would open. As his lids began to flutter, she held her breath. One sky blue eye, foggy with fever and pain, stared at her. The other remained swollen shut.”

  “What is your name?” He breathed out.

  Struck dumb, she stared wide-eyed at him. Every fiber of her being responded to his penetrating stare.

  “Maggie,” Lachlan admonished. “He asked yer name.”

  “Aye. Tis Maggie. And yers?” Mortified to find she still knelt on the bed, her knee pressed against his warm side, she quickly stepped off.


  His eye closed and he inhaled deeply, making her fear he wouldn’t answer.

  “Sebastian Seabrook.”

  “Sebastian Seabrook,” Lachlan said. “What brings ye tae Northumberland?”

  “Is that where I am?”

  “Aye.”

  “Tired.”

  “Who is Marissa? Ye spoke her name in yer sleep.” Teagan said, ignoring her brother’s knowing look. Unfortunately her patient fell back to sleep before he could tell her.

  “Please dinnae tell me ye are jealous of this Marissa?”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. “Not at all.”

  “Let me remind ye lass that ye didnae want tae save the mon. You wanted tae follow the highwaymen. Ye thought him dead at the river. Then you complained when ah tried tae bring him home.”

  “Ah changed my mind,” Teagan huffed as she left the room to heat water for tea and make biscuits, leaving Mr. Seabrook in her brother’s capable hands for now.

  The next two days went on much the same, only Lachlan went to work at the blacksmith’s shop.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m getting worried,” Thomas Seabrook, the Duke of Wentworth, said to his brothers-in-law, William Spencer, Earl of Bridgeton and Myles Fredrickson, Earl of Northborough. They sat in his study at Stony Cross Manor in Dover. “I expected to be without communication for a fortnight, but it has been longer and I’m worried for his safety. He had promised to send word immediately upon reaching Penelope’s village. He should have arrived quite some time ago.”

  “Perhaps during his travels north he ran into my sister, Marissa, and her Captain while they eloped to Gretna Green,” Myles said with a deep sigh. “I’ll never understand how she can be in love with Sebastian one minute, well not minutes, but years, and then fall in love within a week with a Captain on leave she’d never set eyes on before.”

  “I can’t answer about falling out of love, but I fell in love with Amelia almost immediately upon meeting her,” Bridgeton said of his wife, Wentworth’s sister.