Reckless Desire: Flowers of Scotland

by Tarah Scott

  He gave a slow nod. “Stirling will not be kind in this matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come, we should go. The sun will set soon. We both need a change of clothes and a fire.” He started walking parallel to the bank.

  Kenna hurried to keep up with him. “What do you mean, Sir Stirling will not be kind in this matter?”

  “Hensley kidnapped you, Miss Ramsay. That will land him in prison.”

  “Prison? I don’t think so.”

  “Kidnapping is against the law.”

  He passed left of a tree, she to the right, and they came together again past the tree. “The law seldom works in the favor of women like me.”

  He looked sharply at her. “Women like you? The law is supposed to be blind.”

  He sounded truly offended. “But it isn’t blind. I am nobody. Lord Hensley will say I misunderstood him and”—she shrugged—“that will be that.”

  “Hardly. Stirling and I will see to it that he is thrown into prison.”

  She was surprised at the grim set of his mouth. “Why do you care so much?”

  He looked sharply at her. “Should I not care when a man forcibly takes a woman from the bosom of her friends?”

  Bosom of her friends?

  “It is very kind of you to care,” she said.

  “Even though I almost drowned you?”

  She couldn’t suppress a smile. “You must admit, it is true.”

  “Aye,” he replied, but she noted none of the amusement in his voice she’d hoped for.

  The man was one large contradiction. One moment he was laughing, another he was kissing her, then the next he was saying he wanted to leave her company. He’d even said her lack of breeding was obvious. If he thought so little of her, why come in search of her? He’d said that he cared because she’d been kidnapped, but there was something—

  Good Lord, was it possible? Nae. Still, he behaved very strangely. Men in love—or men who fancied themselves in love—did very silly things. She recalled Joseph Dunbar, two years ago. He told her he worshipped the ground she walked on and begged her to marry him. He made himself a fool a dozen times over in an effort to convince her to marry him. Of course, the infatuation vanished when he laid eyes on Fenella Graham. Petite, fair-haired and as malleable a female as was ever born. They were now married with one son and another child on the way.

  Kenna cast Lord Newhall a sideways glance. His gaze never wavered from the forest ahead. They reached a fallen tree and he veered right. She followed him around the tree and they continued in silence. If he really believed himself to be in love with her, perhaps he would suffice for the scandal she needed. Unlike Mister Davis, he certainly seemed inclined toward actions that would get them into trouble.

  A thought occurred. Her being kidnapped and alone with Lord Hensley, then being alone with Lord Newhall, would surely cause a terrible scandal. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to do anything more. Aye, there was no doubt. Even back home on Skye, if a woman spent hours alone with a man, the couple were forced to marry. She stumbled.

  Lord Newhall’s head snapped toward her. “Are you growing tired, Miss Ramsay?”

  “Of course not,” she retorted.

  He frowned.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “This has been a trying day.”

  He nodded. “A very trying day, indeed.”

  And it would become much more trying if Sir Stirling insisted that Lord Hensley marry her. Oh, she hadn’t considered that. What if Sir Stirling insisted she marry Lord Newhall? Her situation with him was far more compromising than even that with Lord Hensley. Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of their brief kiss. She hadn’t had time to consider much, but she wouldn’t soon forget the velvety warmth of his lips. Kenna stepped on a rock and leapt aside. She bumped into Lord Newhall.

  He caught her. She snapped her head up and met his gaze. His eyes were intense. She became aware of the crush of her breast against his side. Butterflies skittered across the insides of her stomach.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked.

  His deep voice rolled over her with the warmth of velvet.

  “A rock,” she said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his. “A rock. I stepped on a rock. My feet will be tender by the time we reach your horse.”

  He said nothing.

  “We should go,” she said.

  He nodded, but didn’t release her. Her heart beat fast. She wondered if he would kiss her again. But there was no one to see them. Oh, no, this wouldn’t do. She pushed at his chest and his arm fell away from around her waist.

  They started walking.

  “We may run into Stirling,” he said. “I sent word that I was on your trail.”

  “Really? We might see him?”

  “If we are lucky.”

  Or unlucky. Her plan had escaped her control before she’d really had a chance to implement it.

  “I imagine everyone will be talking about us,” she said more to herself than him.

  “Unfortunately, it will be impossible to keep secret your abduction,” he said. “The women at the party know, and there is Mister Davis.”

  “There will be a terrible scandal.”

  “Do not fear. As I promised, Stirling and I will deal with Hensley.”

  That was right. He said Sir Stirling would ensure Lord Hensley went to prison. That meant she was safe from any possibility of being forced to marry him.

  “We have walked at least a mile,” she said. “We passed the spot where we fell in long ago.”

  He glanced at up at the sky, then stared in the direction of the water for a moment. “The river is turning south. We need to continue east to intersect the road.”

  Wearing boots, she could walk for miles, but her feet had begun to hurt walking in slippers. They veered east and, moments later, Kenna caught sight of a road through the trees.

  “At last,” she breathed. “Do you think your horse will be where you left him?”

  “As long as no one found him, I imagine so,” he replied.

  They emerged from the trees and began walking south.

  “We have at least a mile walk back to where we fell into the river,” she said.

  “I am sorry, Miss Ramsay.”

  Kenna shrugged. “No matter.”

  They walked for five minutes when the creak of carriage wheels sounded.

  They slowed. Kenna stared at the road, torn between wishing mightily for a carriage and a blanket and being seen with Lord Newhall. Sir Stirling wouldn’t really make her marry someone she didn’t want to marry, would he? Lady Chastity would never allow it.

  “Into the trees, quick,” Lord Newhall said.

  “But we need a ride,” she said.

  “What if it is Hensley?” he said.

  She hadn’t considered that. They hurried back into the trees and he urged her behind a large trunk.

  “Stay here,” he whispered, then slunk back toward the road.

  Kenna peered around the tree. The viscount stopped just within the trees. A chill breeze washed over her. Walking had kept her warm. Kenna wrapped her arms around herself and tried to rub the gooseflesh away. Now that they’d stopped walking, the cold began to seep through to her bones. She hoped the owner of the carriage would stop and give them a ride. How would they explain their situation? Sir Stirling would take care of that detail. He was known by practically everyone and had a way of swaying others to his point of view.

  Leaves rustled behind her. Kenna started to turn. A meaty hand clamped over her mouth. For an instant, confusion froze her, then she heard, “Bloody wench. Ye nearly got me killed.”

  Her kidnapper.

  Kenna started to stamp her foot down on his foot, then realized that her slippered foot would do no damage to his booted foot. She bit down on his fingers. He yowled in pain and Kenna yanked his hand from her mouth. She screamed as loudly as she could.

  She rammed her elbow into the m
an’s belly and tore from his grip. She scooped up a nearby rock and whirled as he lunged for her. She experienced a split second of doubt, then swung. The rock made contact with his cheek. A loud crack sounded and the sensation of the rock mashing against flesh caused her stomach to roil. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  Kenna backed up two steps, dropped the rock, then whirled and ran. The trees flew past in a blur. Her toe hit something hard. She crashed to the soft ground. Wind knocked from her, she pushed to her knees, spitting dirt and dried leaves from her mouth and nose. Hands seized her shoulders and dragged her to her feet.

  Not again.

  Anger tightened her hands into fists. She drove her fist into his belly. Pain radiated up her arm. “Beast!” she shouted.

  The man grunted. “Christ, Miss Ramsay, you will be the death of me, yet.”

  Kenna froze and Lord Newhall’s face swam into focus. Tears stung. She flung herself into his arms. He swung her into his arms and Kenna buried her face into his neck. “I killed him.”

  “Killed who?” he demanded.

  “Th-the man who kidnapped me.”

  “Good,” he muttered.

  “Will I go to prison?” she said between hiccups.

  “Nae, lass.”

  Kenna realized he was walking. For the first time in her life, she wanted to flee the woods. She hoped he was taking her far from this place.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Hush,” he whispered.

  She strained to hear whatever noise he was hearing, but heard only the thundering of her heart. He halted.

  “What—”

  “Shhh,” he hissed. He was silent for half a dozen heartbeats, then pressed his mouth against her ear and said, “Something is up ahead.”

  Her heart beat faster. Something—or someone. Was he going to leave her alone again?

  “Can you walk?” he whispered.

  She nodded and willed back fresh tears.

  “Stay behind me at all times,” he said, and she could’ve wept. “If I become injured, you are to run as fast as you can.”

  She would do no such thing, but nodded when he drew back and met her gaze. He lowered her to the ground, then pressed a finger to his mouth in an order to keep silent. Kenna gave another single nod and followed as he crept back toward the road. They continued away from whatever—or whoever—he’d heard, until the road came into view again. He hurried them across the road to the other side, and they started south, down the mountain, back toward Inverness. They’d gone a quarter of a mile when a carriage came into view up ahead, parked on the road.

  “Lord Hensley’s carriage,” she cried.

  He nodded, mouth grim. The carriage was parked on the opposite side of the road. No driver sat on the perch. Of course not. The driver lay unconscious where she’d left him. A horse was tied to the back of the vehicle.

  “They found my horse,” Lord Newhall muttered.

  Kenna looked sharply at him. “Lord Hensley knows you are here.”

  He shook his head. “Nae. He cannot recognize my horse.”

  “Do you think Lord Hensley is inside?” she asked.

  “One can only hope.”

  His low tone sent a chill down her spine. “You cannot kill him,” she said.

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Aye, but I can.”

  Kenna grabbed his arm and yanked in an effort to turn him toward her. He took two more steps, dragging her, then stopped.

  She met his gaze. “Killing him is not worth your imprisonment.”

  “It is,” he replied. “But I have no intention of going to prison.”

  “You will go to prison if you kill him. We should turn him over to the constable.”

  He regarded her. “We could go to the Colonies to visit your family. I would take you.”

  “Family?” Kenna frowned. “I have no family in the Colonies.”

  “But Sir Stirling said—” He gave a low laugh. “He lied.”

  “Lied? Lied about what?”

  “Never mind. Stay here. I doubt Hensley is inside the carriage, but I want to be certain.”

  She waited within the trees while he hurried across the road to the carriage. He reached the vehicle and Kenna held her breath as he yanked open the door. He peered inside, then closed the door and started toward the back of the carriage. Kenna hugged her arms. A real chill had begun to set in. She didn’t usually get sick, but she didn’t usually run around in a wet dress, either. Lord Newhall began untying his horse and Kenna started walking through the trees toward him. He had fitted a booted foot into the stirrup when she heard the unmistakable click of a hammer being pulled back. Kenna halted.

  “I should have known you were the horse’s owner.”

  Lord Hensley.

  “Get away from the horse,” Lord Hensley said.

  “You won’t get away with kidnapping Miss Ramsay,” Lord Newhall said.

  “I didn’t kidnap her,” the viscount replied. “We were eloping, and you interfered.”

  “Have you gone mad?” Lord Newhall said. “Sir Stirling knows it was your man who kidnapped her. We’ve already sent for a constable.”

  Gravel crunched beneath boots and Lord Hensley walked around the horse then stopped a few feet from Lord Newhall, his back to Kenna.

  “My wife will confirm that all of you were mistaken,” Lord Hensley said.

  I will not, she thought.

  “What do you hope to gain from forcing her to marry you?” Lord Newhall demanded.

  “We are in love, that is enough.”

  “I doubt you have ever loved anyone in your life, Hensley. Sir Stirling will never countenance the marriage, even if you’re able to convince a parson to marry you.”

  “Sir Stirling will be pleased when he sees how happy she and I are. It is you who do not want us to marry. You want her for yourself. Where is she?”

  Lord Newhall shook his head. “I lost Miss Ramsay in the river. She was swept down the rapids. I searched for her, but could find no sign of her.”

  “I do not believe you.”

  “She is not here, as you can see,” he said through tight lips. “Her death is on your head.”

  “If she really is dead, it is you who killed her. Joseph told me you attacked him and abducted her.”

  His voice grew more desperate.

  Kenna scanned the ground for a rock with which to hit him. She caught sight of a branch about as long and as thick as her arm. She scooped it up, then lifted her skirts and tiptoed across the road toward the carriage. She knew Lord Newhall had seen her. The tiny narrowing of his eyes told her so. But, as she knew would be the case, he didn’t give away her approach.

  “At this point, you can have her,” Lord Newhall said. “The wench is far more trouble than she’s worth, if you ask me.”

  “I am afraid I cannot let you leave,” Lord Hensley said.

  Lord Newhall grunted a laugh. “You do not seriously mean to kill me?”

  Kenna reached the carriage and edged toward the men.

  “You should’ve left well enough alone,” Lord Hensley growled. “You have ruined everything.”

  “What is stopping you?” Lord Newhall said.

  Kenna had nearly reached the back of the carriage where they stood.

  “I want to know where Miss Ramsay is.”

  Lord Newhall laughed. “You plan to kill me. Why should I tell you anything—even if I knew?”

  Kenna eased around the back of the carriage and lifted the branch over her head. Lord Hensley turned as she swung. He pointed the gun at her. Lord Newhall lunged for him. Lord Newhall collided with Lord Hensley. The gun roared. Kenna screamed and dropped the branch. Her vision blurred. She staggered two steps forward as they hit the ground and rolled five feet.

  He’d been shot. Lord Newhall had been shot.

  She grabbed the branch from the ground and whirled. Lord Hensley shifted on top of Lord Newhall. Tears blurred her vision. She would brain the bastard. Kenna swung the branch as Lord He
nsley rolled off Lord Newhall.

  Lord Newhall sat up and the branch collided with his shoulder.

  Kenna dropped the branch. “Lord Almighty! I killed him.”

  Lord Newhall pushed onto one knee and seized Lord Hensley’s lapel. He dragged the man to a sitting position and drew back his fist, chest heaving. He hesitated.

  “Wake up, you bastard.” He shook Lord Hensley.

  The viscount’s head lolled to one side. Lord Newhall growled and released him. Lord Hensley thudded onto the road on his back. Lord Newhall searched the viscount’s pockets, found a watch, which he dropped onto the man’s chest, then shoved to his feet.

  Kenna stared. “I did not kill you?”

  “I am heartier than that, Miss Ramsay.” He glared. “Though I must ask whose side you’re on.”

  She looked at Lord Hensley. “Is he dead?”

  He shook his head. “Nae. Just knocked unconscious when we hit the ground. Bloody coward.”

  She shook her head in an effort to clear the fog. “I saw you two fall to the ground. The gun—”

  “Was pointed at the ground,” he said.

  “Will he wake up?”

  “If there is a God, he will,” he muttered.

  He yanked his cravat free of its tie, then pulled the fabric from around his neck. He dropped to one knee, rolled the viscount onto his stomach and tied the man’s hands behind his back.

  She stared at Lord Hensley, and murmured, “He isn’t dead,” then swung her gaze onto Lord Newhall, and said, “You aren’t dead.” Then she sat on the ground and began to cry.

  “Miss Ramsay?”

  She covered her face with her hands and cried harder.

  He squatted down next to her. “You did not really hurt me.”

  She snapped her head up. “You deserved that and more.”

  His eyes darkened. “Is that so?”

  “I have had a dreadful day and it is all your fault.”

  “Is that so?” he repeated in far too reasonable a voice.

  Kenna narrowed her eyes. “Do not act like you have no idea what I am talking about. Aye, Lord Hensley kidnapped me. But ‘tis unlikely a parson would marry us, and even if he did, the marriage would no’ hold up in court.”

  “And if, by that time, you were pregnant with his child, what then?” he asked.

  She stared for two more heartbeats, then burst into tears again.