Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  Pulling her knitting basket together, Jane peered out the window, too. “It looks like a large fairy cottage!”

  “Except for that cart blocking the entryway,” Lance said.

  “Oh dear,” Jane said. “It looks as if one wheel has sunk into the mud.”

  Lance tugged on his coat. “Stay here and I’ll see what’s to be done about the cart.” He opened the door and jumped out into the rain, slamming the door closed.

  Theodora frowned. “Moving the cart will only save us a few steps. There’s no reason for Lance or anyone else to get soaked for that. We should jump out and run for the door.”

  Alice rubbed her eyes and yawned. “We’ll get wet.”

  “Only for a moment if we hurry.”

  Jane didn’t look so decided. “The mud looks treacherous. Just look at how deep that wheel is sunk.”

  “Gor’, you’re right,” Alice exclaimed. “We would sink in up to our—”

  “That’s highly unlikely.” Theodora shook out the cloak she’d rolled into a pillow for Jane earlier, and slung it over her shoulders. She could just make out Lance under the overhang speaking to Spencer and a familiar figure in a black overcoat, his broad shoulder blocking the door from view. Of course Conner’s already here. He got to ride.

  She bit back a mutter. “I’m going to see what’s happening.”

  “Aye, you go and find out,” Alice said cheerfully. “We’ll wait here.”

  Jane frowned. “Theodora, just wait until—”

  Theodora threw open the coach door and hopped out, water splashing around her boots. The rain was harder than she’d expected as she shut the door and made a dash toward the overhang. Her shoulders became instantly damp under her cloak, and rain soaked through her hood into her bonnet.

  She ducked her head against the rain, lifted her skirts, and ran. She’d only gone a few steps when she came to a puddle so deep, she knew that the water would go over the top of her boots.

  Blast it!

  She looked for a way around, but the puddle seemed to go on forever. The rain sluiced unrelentingly, water now trickling from her neck and shoulders down her back.

  There was a slightly narrower section to her right, so she gritted her teeth and hurried over, splashing with each step. Once there, she jumped as far as she could, the rain pelting her face. To her relief, she cleared the puddle.

  Then one foot began to sink into the mud.

  She quickly lifted it free, which put all of her weight on her other foot, and it sank into the mire, soaking up the wet and cold.

  “Blast it!” She put the first foot back down, but the other foot was now ankle deep in the mud and she couldn’t tug it free. She was thoroughly drenched now, the rain soaking through to her skin. There was only one answer.

  She bent down and unlaced her boots, her fingers fumbling on the wet laces. Finished, she stood and was taking a deep breath before plunging on, when a deep voice said, “Stubborn woman!”

  Then she was summarily swung up into Conner’s arms and carried away, her boots left behind in the mud.

  18

  What are you doing!”

  Conner looked down at the indignant woman in his arms. “Pulling your stubborn arse oot of the mud.”

  “I don’t need your help!”

  “Aye, you do, and you know it. You’d have ended oop face-doon in the mud if nae for me.”

  She glared up at him, despite the rain that fell on her face. “Put me down! I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “You want me to put you doon right now? Into a puddle? I’m nae so ungentlemanly.” His eyes glinted at her. “If I were, I’d make you pay a toll before setting you free.” They reached the overhang, and he was glad to see that Spencer and Lance had gone to the stables to look for shovels and an oil canvas hay cover, if one could be found. He bent closer, his lips at her temple. “ ’Twas a sweet toll to pay, too.”

  There was a moment of silence. “What was the toll?”

  “A kiss,” he murmured against her rain-sweet skin, his lips tingling at the brief touch.

  Her gaze locked with his and she bit her lip, which caused him untold agony. “You shouldn’t say such things,” she said. “Someone will hear.”

  “Everyone who could hear is in the stables or in the coach.”

  And if ever a woman looked as if she needed a kiss, it was she. Her hair clung to her cheeks in wet curls, her skin glowed pink from his teasing, her moist lips were slightly parted—he yearned to devour her.

  Conner reluctantly set Theodora on her feet, sliding her body down his. Their wet clothes were warm where they pressed together, and he was glad she didn’t move away.

  A quick look told him Lance was still gone—

  And then Thea sighed and stepped back. “We must fetch the others. Jane’s cold is growing worse.”

  “Lance is looking for a canvas cover to shield them from the rain, so he may lead them around the edge of the inn yard, away from this mud. Had you waited, you’d have benefitted from that and might still have your boots.”

  She flashed him a don’t start with me look, untied her bonnet, and dragged it from her head, her wet curls framing her beautiful eyes.

  She’s like a rain-drenched flower, she is.

  She looked down at her muddied, stockinged feet. “My poor boots,” she said mournfully.

  “After this rain lets up, I’ll send Spencer to fetch and clean them. They’ll be as guid as new.” Or so Conner hoped.

  “You mean Alice, my lady’s maid, will clean my boots.”

  “I doubt she’d know how to clean leather.”

  “Or anything else.” Thea poked him in the chest. “You are the reason I’ve been saddled with that poor girl. You convinced Lance I needed a maid; that I would feel ill-used if I did not have one.”

  Conner was fascinated by the way her bottom lip pressed outward when she was angry. It was damned tantalizing, and made him yearn to kiss it back into a smile.

  He realized she was waiting for his answer and said, “ ’Tis possible I said something to that effect.”

  “And you did it because you wanted to keep me from being alone with Lance.”

  “Nae.”

  “No? Then why did you do it?”

  “Stop, Thea. Just accept ’tis for the best.”

  “Because you say so?” Her chin went up, her eyes flashing fire. “I will not. I want to know why you—”

  “Bloody hell!” he burst out. “Dinnae you see? ’Twasnae just the squire. I could nae trust myself!”

  The words hung between them like ice on a ship’s rail, hard and brilliant.

  She looked at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “You?”

  God, why had he admitted that? “Aye, me,” he snapped. “Every time we’re alone, I end oop kissing you. At this very moment, you’re fortunate we’re in full view of those blasted women and my servants, or I’d have you in my arms right now. For much more than a kiss too.”

  Her lips parted and something glistened in her eyes— Fear? Desire? He had no way of knowing.

  She swallowed hard. “And . . . that would be . . . bad.”

  The hesitation in her voice sent hot blood rushing through him, and he fought a deep moan. God, he wanted her so badly—his body yearned for her with a depth he couldn’t quell. “With you, Thea, I want more than kisses. I want everything.”

  She knew what he meant; her cheeks warmed to a delicious shade of rose. But he also saw a hint of longing, as if she wondered what that “more” could be.

  His cock grew rock hard, and it took all of his determination not to drag her into the inn and kiss her breathless, touch her in ways he’d dreamed of, make her cry out his name with—

  “So you hired Alice to keep that from happening.”

  He had to take a deep breath before he could talk, and even then his voice was harsh. “Aye. Between the chaperone and a lady’s maid, I hoped to make you safe.”

  A movement caught his gaze, and with relief, he saw Lance and Sp
encer approaching the coach. “Jane is aboot to be liberated.”

  Thea’s lashes dropped to hide her expression as she turned toward the coach, and Conner wondered whether she was disappointed or happy at the interruption.

  Spencer opened the coach door. Holding a large canvas cover, Lance leaned inside. Conner could see Jane’s dark head through the opening. Lance spoke earnestly, but Jane, pink-faced, kept shaking her head.

  Lance argued, but still Jane shook her head. Obviously frustrated, he finally reached through the door, threw the cover over Jane, and pulled her into his arms.

  Then he strode around the edge of the muddy yard to where Conner and Thea stood, and set down his wriggling burden.

  “Oof, you—you—” Jane pushed the cover from her head, her bonnet askew as she glared at Lance. “That’s— I never— What—” She coughed and scrambled for her handkerchief.

  “Here.” Conner tugged out his own handkerchief and pressed it into her hand.

  She covered her mouth until her coughing had subsided, her cheeks sporting blooms of color. Her gaze never left Lance. “That was uncalled for!”

  “It was for your own good,” Lance said apologetically.

  “Jane, we must get you inside,” Thea announced.

  Jane’s hurt gaze remained on Lance. “I told you I’d wait until the rain had subsided.”

  “It’s too cold.”

  “But I—” She coughed again, this one deeper.

  “Get inside,” Theodora ordered.

  Conner added, “Our bedchambers will nae be ready yet, but I’ve hired a private parlor and there’s a fire.”

  Jane’s cough subsided. “I’m not—”

  “Either you get inside where it’s dry and warm,” Lance announced, “or I’ll carry you.”

  Jane’s eyes widened, and Thea slipped her arm into Jane’s. “Come. You may not need that fire, but I do.”

  Jane’s lips pressed into a straight line, but then she said, “Fine. But only because you need the—”

  “Hellllllooooo! Mr. Douglas! I’m still here!”

  Everyone turned back to the coach, where Alice was standing in the open doorway, waving frantically.

  Thea unwrapped the cover from Jane’s shoulders and handed it to Conner.

  “Me?” Conner looked through the pouring rain to where strapping Alice waved enthusiastically. “But I—”

  “You.” Then she turned back to Lance. “Lead the way to this fire.”

  “Of course.” Pulling off his wet hat, Lance held the door open.

  As Jane went inside, Thea looked back at Conner with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes that made the gloomy afternoon seem much brighter.

  He found himself returning her smile. At least he could make her laugh. That was something.

  He watched her until she disappeared inside. Perhaps he’d been going about this all wrong. Seduction was only one weapon. He could also—

  “Hellllloooooo! Whot about me?” Alice jumped up and down, the coach bouncing.

  Sighing, Conner held the cover over his head and headed back into the rain.

  19

  Theodora sighed, her breath wafting in the steam rising from the copper tub.

  Once Alice had alighted from the coach, she’d changed into dry clothing and then arrived in Theodora’s room with a dry gown and a robe. Without being asked, Alice had ordered tea to be brought to the room and a hot bath. She’d been quite picky, twice sending back water she deemed not hot enough, ordering a gawking footman to “stop lollygagging like a lump” and fetch soap and towels, and in general taking over with such aplomb that Theodora’s opinion of the girl increased significantly.

  For someone who’d never served as a lady’s maid, Alice had done remarkably well, her fingers nimble, her manner sure if a little outspoken. Plus her forthright attitude was quite effective with the servants at the inn, so even that couldn’t be found wanting.

  Now Theodora looked at her pruning fingers, sighed, and rose from the tub. She dried off with the towel Alice had left to warm over a chair before the crackling fire. Sighing with the luxury of it, Theodora finished drying and wrapped herself in her robe.

  It was late afternoon now, the rain a mere drizzle. Jane must be asleep, for silence came from her room, which was connected to Theodora’s by a narrow door. Somewhere downstairs, she could hear masculine voices and the clink of cutlery.

  No doubt Conner was busy manipulating Lance into acquiring more staff. It wouldn’t surprise her if she climbed into the coach tomorrow morning and found it stuffed with a housekeeper, a chef, and a squadron of kitchen maids, as well.

  And all to protect me from him—not Lance. That had been an astounding discovery. She couldn’t help being relieved that she wasn’t the only one fighting this blinding attraction. But the fact that he’d gone to such an extent to keep from being alone with her made her feel cheated in some way, as if he was stopping the natural progression of things.

  But he’s right to stop this now. I know the dangers all too well.

  Theodora pulled a chair near the crackling fire and sat down, the heat soaking through her silk robe and heating her to toasty warmness. She glanced up at the clock—good, she still had an hour before dinner.

  Alice had ironed a gown and left it on the bed. It was one of Theodora’s favorites, pale blue with long sleeves and delicate cream lace trim. She slipped into her chemise and petticoat, then the gown, but she couldn’t reach the laces. She sighed, and went toward Jane’s room to see if she was awake. Theodora had just taken a few steps when she heard a scuffling sound in the hallway outside her door. Ah! Spencer has finished cleaning my boots. The footman had kindly retrieved them from the mud and promised to deliver them once he was done.

  She hurried to her door and swung it open, her gaze on the floor. There, still wet but brushed into submission, were her favorite boots, every vestige of mud gone. And beside them was another pair of boots, masculine and shining, the toes facing her direction.

  Her heart pounding, she allowed her gaze to move up those boots to the breeches that caressed familiar muscular legs, to a deep green waistcoat over a powerful chest, a beautifully fitted blue coat resting on wide shoulders, his hair still damp from the rain.

  “Conner.” Who else would be so bold as to stand outside the room of a woman betrothed to another? She lifted her gaze to his, which was ablaze with illicit desire and barely controlled passion. Her body instantly leapt in response, her stomach heating, her nipples tightening in need. Oh my God. I like that he is unbridled and wild. I enjoy that about him, and crave it.

  She wanted—lusted for—a man who was fiery, untamed, and uncontrolled, someone who pushed her to feel and be the same. It was disquieting to think she might like such a dangerous sort of man, she who craved hearth and home. The two will never fit.

  She backed up a step, the cool air reminding her that her gown was still open at the back. Her face hot, she whipped to the side so her back was against the doorframe. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “I brought your boots. I was just going to leave them here, but then you opened the door.”

  God, but she loved his voice. Rich, and deep, with that delicious Scottish lilt. How could she ever live with a flat English accent after hearing such?

  She realized Conner waited for her reply. “I didn’t know you were in the hallway.” It was a stupid thing to say, but right now, she couldn’t think of anything better.

  “You surprised me, as weel.” Conner placed a hand on the wall by her head, his gaze moving over her damp, tumbled hair, then over her face and finally coming to rest on her lips. “Spencer did a fine job cleaning your boots. He’d have brought them himself, but he’s under Lance’s direction in the kitchen. They’re making a posset for puir Jane.”

  Theodora looked at the door next to hers. “Is she worse?”

  “She’s nae in that room, lass. Her bedchamber is doon the hall now. The fireplace in that room smokes, and Lance feared it would worsen
her cough, so he had Alice move her.”

  “That was kind of him.”

  Conner’s gaze met hers and after a hesitation, he sighed. “He’s a guid mon, as much as I wish I could say otherwise. He says this posset is something his mother makes for one of his sisters when she has a cough. ’Twill make Jane sleep easy.”

  “Poor thing. I should go to her.” Theodora started forward, but her sleeve slipped, which reminded her yet again that her gown was not laced. “Oh.”

  Conner raised his brows. “Aye?”

  “I’ll see her after—” She clamped her lips closed.

  His eyes lit with curiosity. “After what?”

  “Nothing. Thank you for my boots.” Her face hot, she stepped back and pulled the door closed behind her.

  But it wouldn’t close all the way. Startled, she looked down to see Conner’s foot blocking the door. “Remove your foot.”

  Conner looked down at his boot. He should move it. Any gentleman would do so. But when it came to Thea, he wasn’t always able to do what he knew he should.

  Why had he lingered after he’d delivered her boots? He’d started to leave, but those saucy boots had reminded him of Thea, of the way her light brown hair had been soaked from the rain, her lashes spiked with wetness, her lips pursed with irritation. And like a fool he’d stood there staring at her boots, mesmerized like a green boy after his first kiss, bemused, bewildered, and aroused.

  Bloody hell— Thea was gaining a hold over him that frightened him as much as it excited him. And now seeing her here, her damp hair unbound and curling around her shoulders, her skin flushed from her bath, her gown loose at the shoulders— He froze in place. Her gown is undone. Somehow that had escaped his notice, and his desire flared anew at the thought of her creamy skin bared to his touch.

  Some of his thoughts must have shown, for she took a shaky breath and said in a low, trembling voice, “Conner, no.” Her lashes dropped to her cheeks, as if she were afraid to look at him.

  She was so close that he could smell the lavender of her freshly washed hair. He wanted to slip his hand underneath and feel the weight of those silken strands. He wanted to slide his fingers along the satin of her skin, taste the heat of her cheeks, and—