by Tarah Scott
Mia stared out the carriage window. She sat beside Angeline. Aunt Leana and Joshua sat across from them. Joshua had stared out the window the entire ride. He no more wished to attend Sir Stirling’s party than did she. Though his reasons related to youth and the desire to be anywhere but a party where his marriage-minded sisters sought husbands. Mia grimaced inwardly. Perhaps their wants weren’t all that different. She had no desire to attend a party where her aunt and sister were trying to marry her off. Mia paused in her thoughts. Was this how Angeline felt?
Nae. The situation for Angeline was different. She had a good chance of finding a nice gentleman to marry. She could even choose from the men who pursued her. On the other hand, Angeline and their aunt wanted Mia to—how had her aunt put it?—entice him into seducing her. To Mia’s shock, Angeline hadn’t disagreed.
Mia had every confidence Angeline would be married within the month. Three of the young gentlemen who had danced with her at the party three nights past had sent messages with requests to call upon her. Mr. Forbes would, no doubt, fall madly in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her, just as those gentlemen had. No matter what Aunt Leana said, no man would choose Mia over Angeline. Which was the very reason Mia didn’t need to attend the party.
Through the window, Sir Stirling’s home, Westbourne Tower, came into view. The massive stone structure was rumored to have been built in the early sixteenth century by a cousin of King James IV. They had visited Westbourne Tower many times. This was the first time, however, Mia wished to be anywhere but here. She intended to have her wish.
The carriage entered the drive and stopped in front of the large oak door. The vehicle shifted as Joshua opened the door and stepped down. He helped their aunt to the ground, then Angeline and Mia.
Mia hugged her cloak tighter against the cool air, took three steps, then glanced at the trunk being handed down. “Oh dear, I don’t see my luggage.”
Leana turned and looked up at the trunks. “How did that happen?”
“I do not see my valise, either,” Mia said.
Leana frowned. “Boyd can return for the luggage.”
Mia shook her head. “I should return home, Aunt. It occurs to me that I may not have packed a proper ballgown.”
Aunt Leana narrowed her eyes and said in a low voice. “I know you too well, Mia. You will not return.”
Mia blinked as if surprised. “Of course, I shall return.”
“Boyd can fetch everything you need.”
Joshua cast them an impatient glance, but Mia feigned embarrassment and dropped her gaze to the ground.
“What is amiss?” Angeline whispered.
“If I am to…you know, to try and get a gentleman’s attention, should I not…” She let her voice trail off.
Angeline exchanged a glance with their aunt. Two footmen emerged from the castle headed toward them.
“Should you not what?” Aunt Leana asked.
Mia hesitated, as if uncertain what to say, then whispered, “Wear a suitable dress.”
“Of course, the blue silk,” Angeline said. “Along with her emeralds.”
Mia kept her gaze on the ground and nodded.
“The emeralds do show you off to your best advantage,” Aunt Leana said. “You are to return immediately. Do you understand?”
Mia nodded. “Of course.”
Boyd and the young footman removed the last of the luggage, then Mia grasped the carriage door handle.
“What’s this?” Joshua demanded.
“Perhaps Joshua should go with you,” Angeline said.
He frowned. “Go with her where?”
“She forgot her luggage.”
“Why not just send Boyd for it?” he said.
The footmen carried the trunk and bags into the castle.
“She has to get more things,” Angeline said.
“I don’t want to return with her,” he said in true younger brother fashion.
“And you shouldn’t have to,” Mia said. ‘I will be back promptly.” Without waiting for anyone to agree, she said, “We are off, Boyd,” and stepped into the carriage, pulling the door shut behind her.
Ten minutes later, rain began to patter lightly on the roof. What good fortune. If it rained hard enough, that would make it all the more difficult for her to return to the party. By the time her aunt received Mia’s note explaining that she had arrived home to find she didn’t feel well, it would be too late for Aunt Leana to leave the party. Tomorrow, Leana would send Joshua after her. God willing, her aunt wouldn’t come herself. Mia would spend the day shut up in her room to ensure she appeared sick.
By then, Mr. Forbes would have fallen madly in love with Angeline, and all talk of seduction would be forgotten. She still couldn’t believe her aunt had suggested such a thing. Why, it was just the sort of thing her father would do. Aunt Leana had often chastised their father about seducing women. She considered it quite another matter, however, for a young lady to—how had she put it--encourage a man’s natural lust?
Mia wasn’t at all certain Mr. Forbes had any such inclinations. Despite what her aunt thought, Mia wasn’t oblivious to a man’s notice—and Mr. Forbes had not noticed her. She had been pressed intimately against the man’s broad chest, yet his eyes had barely rested on her face, much less any other part of her body. Her face warmed at the memory of his arms tight around her. She had never been so intimately close to a man before. It had been—
She grimaced. She would do well to forget the warmth of his arms. She’d better hope he did have such inclinations and that Angeline would incite those feelings in him. Otherwise, her family would insist she find a way to get him to seduce her. Not to mention, George was sure to try and whisk Angeline away for a nighttime elopement. Mia only hoped he didn’t have enough money to purchase a special license.
A man’s shout jarred her from her thoughts. The carriage lurched and veered perilously close to the trees that hugged the road.
“Good Lord.” Mia grabbed the handle to the right of the door.
Another muffled shout sounded. The coach sped up around the curve. Mia’s shoulder struck the wall. The coach leaned and she drew a sharp breath when it seemed the back left wheel lifted off the ground. Her heart beat wildly. What was happening? A gun roared outside her door. Her hand flew to her mouth. It couldn’t be.
“Halt, or I will shoot,” a man shouted.
The carriage slid sideways. Mia gripped the handle harder and jammed her eyes shut as momentum pressed her into the corner. A loud crack split the air and the carriage listed to the right. She vaguely understood that a wheel had broken an instant before her legs hit the door. She snapped her eyes open as the door swung wide and she glimpsed fast moving, muddy ground no more than two feet away.
The carriage swung left and the door slammed shut. They came to such an abrupt halt that, despite her grip on the handle, she was thrown onto the opposite seat. She landed, arms and legs tangled in her cloak and dress. Her heart beat so loudly that the shouts were muffled by the pounding in her ears. Were they being robbed? She carried nothing of value. Would that anger the robbers
“Dinnae move,” a male voice ordered in a thick Scottish brogue.
Mia recalled the pistol her father kept hidden in the compartment beside the door to her right. She threw back her cloak and scooted to the other side of the carriage, opened the compartment and pulled out the pistol. He always kept the weapon loaded for just such an occasion. But it had been stored unused for at least eighteen months. Would it fire? Had she the nerve to pull the trigger? Lord, could she hit a target? She’d never held a gun, much less fired one. The weapon felt oddly heavy.
“We have no valuables,” Boyd said.
Mia discerned that he remained in the driver seat. At least he hadn’t been hurt. What of the young footman, Allen?
“Who’s inside?” the robber demanded.
Mia shifted to face the opposite door and pointed the pistol. Her hands shook so badly she feared she would miss even at such close range.
Should she fire as he opened the door? If the weapon didn’t discharge, it would be useless. If, she pointed the pistol at the brigand after she left the carriage, he wouldn’t know that it might not fire and she might be able to force him to lay down his gun.
The door handle began to turn. Mia thrust the pistol into her cloak pocket in the instant before the door was flung open. She locked gazes with dark brown eyes. Rain dripped from his matted, shoulder-length hair.
“Nothing of value, eh?” The short, stalky man raked his gaze down her body. “Come out, little bird.”
She quaked, but forced herself to slide over to the door. She pulled her skirt up just above her ankle and jumped down from the carriage onto the mud-slicked road. Thankfully, her legs, despite being shaky, didn’t give way. Her heart sank at sight of another brigand sitting astride a well-groomed chestnut, a large revolver pointed at Boyd and Allen. Boyd’s thin-lipped expression told her he was keeping a taut hold on his fury. He had been with them for ten years, and she knew he would protect her with his life.
She looked at the brigand nearest her, blinked raindrops from her lashes, and said, “What do you want?”
“What have ye got?”
“Nothing,” she said in all honesty. She had purposely left everything at home, for she hadn’t planned on attending the party. “I am on my way home from visiting Lady Helen. She is ill.”
As hoped, fear appeared in his eyes. “Ill? What’s wrong with her?”
Mia shook her head. “The doctors do not know. She has a raging fever and she’s coughing up blood.”
His eyes widened and he took a step back. He stared for an instant, then a sly smile spread across his face. “Ye are a clever wench. There is no sick friend. You came from that mansion where all the big carriages are going for some fancy party.”
She feigned confusion. “Why would I be traveling away from a party?”
He blinked, clearly flummoxed by the idea, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I ain’t heard of no sick lady.”
Mia snorted. “I doubt you move in her circles.”
“She must have something valuable beneath that dress,” the man on the horse said.
The man nearest gave her an appraising look. “I imagine so.” He took a step toward her.
Boyd shifted.
“Dinnae move,” the brigand on the horse warned.
Boyd went still.
The highwayman lunged and seized Mia’s arm. Her heart pounded. He leaned so close she could smell whisky on his breath.
“Do ye have something special for me beneath that dress? His hand shot up and jerked her sleeve. Fabric rent. She yanked the pistol from her cloak pocket and swung it at his head. The barrel connected with his temple. He cried out and staggered backward. Mia pointed the weapon at him. Thank the Lord her hands didn’t shake.
The highwayman froze. “Bloody hell, she’s got a pistol.”
“Throw down your weapon or I will shoot your friend,” she instructed the man on the horse.
He gave a nasty laugh. “Shoot him and I shoot your friend.”
Mia locked gazes with her assailant. “You will still be dead.” She drew back the hammer. Would it fire in the rain?
“Kevin,” her assailant’s voice held a note of warning.
Mia stepped left so that she could keep the horseman in her sight, as well. “Tell your companion to lay down his weapon,” she ordered.
“I won’t do it,” Kevin said, and Mia realized he meant it.
He cared nothing for his companion and would shoot Boyd, as he’d threatened. If she laid down her weapon, the highwaymen would likely shoot all of them. Tears threatened. If she cried, they would know she was weak. A tremble began deep inside and started to work its way to her hands. She willed her teeth not to chatter.
The highwayman nearest her stepped closer. Kevin shifted on his horse. Mia swung the pistol toward Kevin and pulled the trigger. The deafening blast and recoil caused her to drop the pistol. The carriage horses reared and started forward, dragging the carriage across the road. Kevin wheeled his horse around and raced away.
Wood cracked as Boyd seized the reins. “Whoa there, lads!”
The remaining highwayman sprang for her. Mia stumbled backward.
Another gun roared and the highwayman twisted and stumbled toward the carriage, which now blocked most of the road. Mia yanked her gaze up to the young footman, seated on the driver’s seat beside Boyd. He gripped a gun. The remaining brigand whirled and raced past her, then disappeared into the trees. The rain came down harder. Her head swam. An instant later, someone stood before her.
“My lady, are you hurt?”
Mia blinked at Boyd.
“Sir,” the young footman cried.
The rain had slackened, and Mia discerned the pounding of horse’s hooves. She tensed. Was Kevin returning? Boyd took her arm and urged her toward the carriage. They stopped at its edge and peered around it at the approaching rider. Fear caused her heart to race. Then her mind comprehended that the horse was black, not the chestnut the brigand had ridden. An instant later, she recognized the rider.
Chapter Six
“Halt.” The young footman sitting in the driver’s seat of the broken carriage pointed his pistol at Magnus.
Magnus brought his horse to a stop and, reins gripped in his right hand, lifted his hands slightly, palms out. He nodded toward the pistol the young man held. “I am unarmed,” he said.
An older man that Magnus took to be the driver, hurried around the horses to the front of the carriage and stopped a few feet away. “You do not look like a highwayman.”
“I’m not. Magnus Forbes, at your service. I am the new owner of Barkely Hall.”
The young man lowered the pistol. “I beg your pardon, sir. The pistol isnae loaded.”
Magnus stared in surprise. “You threatened me with an unloaded pistol?”
“It seemed better than having you threaten us with a loaded one,” the lad said.
“You are correct. I heard shots, but I take it no one was hurt?”
“No sir,” the older man replied. “Thanks to Lady Mia. She shot one of the highwaymen and they fled.”
Lady Mia? The fair-haired beauty stepped into view on the other side of the horses.
She had been in the carriage when the highwaymen attacked, and she had shot them? A strange emotion whipped through him. Shock was part of his reaction. As for the rest, Magnus wasn’t sure if he was afraid or impressed.
He dismounted and strode around the horses to her. “My lady, are you well?”
“I am a bit shaken, but fine.”
He caught sight of a torn sleeve hanging down over the rise of her left breast. Fury whipped through him. “May I ask how that happened?”
She frowned, and he gently pulled back her cloak.
She glanced down. “Oh, that is nothing.” She pulled the cloak back over her shoulder.
Magnus turned his attention to the driver and forced a level voice, “The work of the highwayman, I take it?”
Ire flashed in the driver’s eyes. “Aye, sir.”
“I pray you can identify the men,” Magnus said, then to Mia, “My lady, I am taking you to Westbourne Tower.”
“Sir Stirling’s?” she said. “But I am to return home.”
“You are not attending the party?” he asked.
“Aye, but—”
“Sir Stirling’s is closer than Kaerndal Castle,” he cut in.
“I do not mind the longer ride in order to get home,” she said.
He frowned. “It will be dark soon. You would have these men wait twice as long for help in fixing the carriage—perhaps in the dark? What if the highwaymen return?” The brigands wouldn’t return, of course, but her careless attitude piqued his ire.
“We can wait inside the carriage, my lord,” Boyd said. “Mr. Anders can send men to help fix the carriage.”
“Mr. Forbes is correct,” Mia said. “You should not be forced to wait any longer than
necessary, especially in the dark. I will wait here with you while Mr. Forbes rides to Sir Stirling’s home and sends help.”
Boyd looked dumbstruck. “My lady, Lady Leana would dismiss me if I allowed that.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but Magnus couldn’t discern the thought.
She lifted the hood of her cloak over her head. “Westbourne Tower it is, then.” She turned toward Magnus. “Have you a pistol you can leave with Boyd?”
“I do.”
Boyd shook his head. “Nae, sir. You must have the pistol to protect Lady Mia. Both Allen and I have pistols and powder. We will reload. Also” –he took three steps and picked up another pistol lying in the mud— “I have your pistol, my lady. I doubt the brigands will return, but if they do, we will be ready.”
She turned to Magnus. “Let us make haste, Mr. Forbes.”
When Boyd lifted Lady Mia up to him a moment later, Magnus realized he hadn’t quite thought through the situation. He’d ruthlessly forced the issue when it seemed she was acting the spoiled girl. Now he would arrive at Sir Stirling’s with her in his lap. This was just the sort of situation that started rumors like those that embroiled his father and brother. Something she didn’t deserve, he realized.
He hadn’t noticed it until she was placed in his arms, but she has trembling. The rain had stopped. Her body was cool. She had to be chilled to the bone. Still, he’d seen enough men in battle to recognize shock. She hadn’t killed the man she’d shot—at least not that they knew—but she’d shot him, nonetheless. The lass had probably never held a gun before today.
“Pull your cloak tight about you, my lady,” he said.
She obeyed.
“Boyd, is there, by chance, a blanket in the carriage?” he asked.
“No need to go to any trouble,” she said, but Magnus heard the slight chattering of her teeth.
Boyd hurried to the carriage. Magnus urged his horse closer and was relieved when Boyd pulled a plaid blanked from inside. The driver handed it up to him. Magnus swung it around Lady Mia, then tucked in the edges and hugged her close. To his surprise, she didn’t flinch or pull away. At least she was sensible. She shifted on his lap and he froze. Good God, if she continued to move like that, he would arrive at Westbourne Tower with a raging erection.
