Beware a Scot's Revenge

by Sabrina Jeffries

  But when she reached for it, he caught her hand. “You did nothing wrong, you know. Yer father should have warned you about me. It’s not your fault.”

  “Are you trying to soften me up now? Because it won’t work, laddie. I’m too ‘stiff-necked’ a ‘fine lady’ for that.” Bile rose in her throat to choke her. “Contrary to how it must have seemed to you last night, I generally don’t allow flattery and sweet words to sway me from what I know is proper.”

  “Lass, I mean it,” he said more firmly, closing her hand in his. “You did nothing wrong, ye ken? Neither last night nor today.”

  A heavy breath escaped her lips. “I should never have persuaded Papa to let me come to Scotland . He said it was too dangerous, but I didn’t listen.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered.” He stared down at her hand, then traced her thumb with his, almost absently. “I would have kidnapped you even if I’d had to risk going to London to do it. Once your father sent those men to kill me, the battle was set. Your coming here only made it a mite easier.”

  The unexpected kindness was too much to bear. Just when she wanted to hate him, he did something to remind her of the man he’d once been. Curse him for that.

  Drawing her hand from his, she sat back in the seat and met his gaze squarely. “Then I’ll just have to make sure the rest of it isn’t so easy, won’t I?”

  Chapter Eight

  Dear Charlotte,

  I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. Your husband may have been a fool, but that doesn’t mean all men are fools. A pauper may love a princess and still not be a fortune hunter.

  Your cousin,

  Michael

  Three hours passed, during which Lachlan came damned near to going mad. When the lass wasn’t reciting her schoolmistress’s tenets, she trilled every song she knew. He could have endured it better if she’d had a bad voice, but she sang like a nightingale, the notes silky and smooth as honey. It made a man want things he shouldn’t, feel things he shouldn’t.

  That wasn’t the worst of it, either. It was what she sang that spoiled his temper. No rollicking drinking songs and no heroic tales for Princess Proud, oh no. She sang of women who’d been seduced and abandoned by soldiers, or forced to marry the wrong men, or treated cruelly by their husbands.

  When she was done with those, she turned to ballads about highwaymen. They always came to a bad end, too—hanged or shot down or betrayed by their true loves. She even managed to drum up a sprightly ditty about some idiot highlanders who kidnapped a girl, only to have her make fools of them by escaping.

  Lachlan let her have her fun, partly because it kept her busy and partly because the only time he tried to stop her, Jamie protested. Apparently the lad lacked any better way to pass the time while he drove.

  But Jamie didn’t have to watch her as the dusk bled into the moonlit night, to watch that lovely neck arch in song and those ample breasts lift every time she filled her lungs. Jamie didn’t have to fight the urge to lean forward and kiss her throat, tongue the hollow there, drown himself in her flowery scent…

  With a curse he jerked down the shade, blotting out the moonlight, so he didn’t have to suffer the pain of looking at her and wanting…wanting…

  Devil take the woman. She made him want too much.

  Between her singing and her sighing over her Highland home, she was twisting him into knots. This afternoon, as she’d stared at the sunset…God help him, but he’d ached to catch her up and kiss her just for missing the Highlands .

  Except that she didn’t. Not really. She was remembering a place that no longer existed, if it ever had. She’d covered her childhood with roses, as girls were wont to do, forgetting how used to London ways she’d become, how used to living high and free off her father’s ill-gotten money.

  These days only the very rich of Scotland, the dukes and marquesses, lived that way, and they only managed it on the backs of their crofters. Once she saw how harsh life had become there, she’d recoil from it like his former fiancée had.

  And who could blame her?

  Silence finally descended over the carriage. He prayed that she’d sung herself hoarse.

  “Lachlan?” came her voice out of the darkness.

  He bit back an oath. “You ought to sleep.”

  “You’re not sleeping, so why should I?” she said petulantly.

  “I don’t need to sleep.” He’d purposely slept until noon today so he could make it through most of the night without.

  “Oh, fudge. Even a scoundrel like you needs sleep.” She paused. “Unless guilt over your many sins is what keeps you awake.”

  She never relented, did she? “More like that nasty discipline you said I lacked. Soldiers on the march go for days with only snatches of sleep. I’ve done it many a time.” But he’d been younger. And he hadn’t been recovering from a beating and a fever that had nearly killed him.

  Blessed silence. But ’twas only for a moment.

  “Does your mother know you’re kidnapping me?”

  Holy Christ, the lass certainly knew what questions would bedevil him. “No.”

  “Does she know you’re the Scourge?”

  “She doesn’t know any of it,” he snapped. “Why?”

  “Surely she’s noticed the extra funds and the disappearances—”

  “A clanswoman learns early on not to pay such things any mind. Many a Highland man has to resort to dangerous or illegal work, like reiving or distilling. If his women are wise, they’ll take whatever he brings in and keep quiet about it.”

  “And if they’re not wise?”

  “Well, then, he’ll sew their mouths shut,” he quipped. “Do you happen to have a sewing kit in your pocket, lassie?”

  “Very amusing.” She paused. “You make Highlanders sound like thieves, but I’m not some Lowlander to believe such prejudices. Certainly your family wasn’t like that when I knew them. And you are a baronet, after all.”

  “Aye, and a lot of good having a title has done me. Or my mother.”

  She softened her voice. “I remember her well. She was always a practical sort, always busy. Come to think of it, she was also rather outspoken. I can’t see her keeping quiet. At the very least, she’s had to pretend you were dead for the past few months. Surely you had to give her a reason for that. What did you say?”

  He could think of no reason to hide the truth, and mayhap if he gave her answers, she’d stop bedeviling him long enough to fall asleep. “I told her the Scourge’s men ambushed me after I killed their leader. And I was so outnumbered, I had to pretend to drown to keep from being killed myself.”

  That’s what he’d told her once he’d been conscious enough to speak, which had taken days. “Then I said that since I’d seen their faces, I’d best keep up the pretense until I could hunt them down.” After he’d recovered his strength enough to fight back.

  She chewed on that a moment. “Why wouldn’t you just tell her the truth?” She added, in an arch tone, “She of all people should realize your cause was just.”

  “I don’t want her having any part of it. If something happens and I’m taken, I want no blame falling on her. Bad enough that I had to confide in some of my clansmen after the attack. I never involved them before. I always felt that since I was the one choosing to risk my life, it should be my life alone.”

  “And Jamie’s,” she pointed out. “And the lives of the people you robbed.”

  “I never hurt any of them, and you know it,” he ground out. “Ne’er did anything but take a bit of what yer father owed my family.”

  “What you think my father owed your family.” When he cursed under his breath, she added hastily, “And what about Jamie?”

  “Jamie and my other two companions came from my former regiment. They returned to Scotland to nothing—no homes, kin, or work. So I told them I’d share whatever we took if they helped me rob yer father’s Scottish friends.”

  He frowned into the darkness. “Unfortunately, Sean and Robbie got greedy
and decided to ride the roads on their own. Pair of fools got themselves murdered robbing a merchant with a blunderbuss. But Jamie’s got good sense.” His voice hardened. “And he’s been loyal to me ever since joining the army as a drummer boy, so don’t waste yer breath trying to convince him to help you escape.”

  “What a fine idea,” she shot back. “He looks too young to have had many sweethearts. I’d wager that if I smiled and—”

  “I mean it, lass,” he growled, “leave the lad alone.”

  “Or what? You’ll sew my mouth shut?”

  “No, but I sure as the devil will gag you with my stock.”

  “You’d have to hold me down to do it, Lachlan Ross,” she vowed. “And believe me, I’d make sure you didn’t enjoy it.”

  A devilish impulse made him snap, “Oh, I don’t know about that. At the moment, I’d give a great deal to have you beneath me.” When he heard her soft gasp, he added, “So don’t be tempting me to anger with talk of flirting with Jamie, or you and I’ll have a right fine tussle.”

  That shut her up. Finally.

  But now he had pictures to torture him, of laying her down in a grassy field and covering her body with his. She would be willing and eager, throwing those slender white arms about his neck while he seized one full breast in his mouth to suck and taste…

  The lurch of the coach dragged him from his mad dream. He glanced out to find that they’d halted. “Mo chreach,” he muttered, opening the panel.

  Jamie jerked upright on the perch. “I’m awake now! I’m awake, sir.”

  “No, ye’re not.”Lachlan leaped out onto the road. “I was planning to relieve you soon, anyway. Get in the coach and sleep for a while. I’ll drive.”

  “What about the lady?” Jamie asked as he climbed down.

  “Yes, what about the lady?”Venetia echoed, her face framed in the open door, moonlight glinting off her rebellious little chin.

  “If the lady’s got any sense, she’ll sleep, too.”Lachlan opened his coat to lay his hand conspicuously on his pistol. “But if she doesn’t, she’d best remember that I still have this.” He glowered at her. “You hear me, lass? If you so much as make a sound in an inn yard, someone will die. And it won’t be me.”

  Every time he said it, he waited for her to protest that he could never do such a thing. And every time she kept quiet, it peeved him that she believed the lie so readily. Of course, she thought him the worst sort of man, no matter what he said.

  “If her nonsense keeps you from sleeping, Jamie,” he went on, “I’ll tie her up and gag her if I have to.” He stared Venetia down. “And enjoy doing it, too.”

  “No doubt,” she countered with a sniff. “You are awfully obsessed with the idea of tying up women.” She threw herself back against the seat as Jamie entered the coach and closed the door.

  “ ’Tisn’t women I’m obsessed with tying up,”Lachlan muttered, and climbed up on the perch. “It’s just you, lassie. Only you.”

  Although Venetia had done her best to vex Lachlan, nothing had seemed to penetrate his thick skull. He’d acted bored the entire time, staring out the window like a warrior carved in granite, except for the occasional tick of a muscle.

  Still, she had to admit that despite his rude comments and surly manner, he’d been a very courteous kidnapper so far. They’d stopped twice more by the road so she could relieve herself. The food he’d brought had been quite tasty, and the carriage was clearly designed for comfort.

  She didn’t know what to think. Whenever she’d read about the Scourge, she’d imagined some bitter and lazy crofter of Papa’s who’d turned to villainy. Her friend Amelia had described the accomplices as pure scoundrels bent on murdering Amelia’s husband. And perhaps they had been, given Lachlan’s own words about their foolishness.

  But Jamie didn’t fit that description. She would guess him to be about nineteen and, judging from how he shrank into the corner, a little nervous about being alone with her. He even jumped when his leg accidentally brushed her skirts.

  “I won’t bite, you know,” she said softly, mindful of Lachlan just on the other side of the panel.

  “No, milady.” Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a folded blanket and handed it to her. “Getting cold now. You might be wanting this.” He drew another out and made a big show of spreading it over himself before laying his head back and closing his eyes.

  “See here, Jamie, I can tell you’re not like your laird. You know that what he’s doing is wrong, don’t you?”

  He cracked one eye open. “Lachlan Ross ain’t done a wrong thing his whole life. He’s the finest man I ever knowed. So don’t speak bad of him to me. I won’t listen. And I won’t be helping you get away from him, neither.”

  After that heartfelt speech, he closed his eye, laid his head back, and promptly began to snore.

  Well, she couldn’t say Lachlan hadn’t warned her.

  While Jamie slept, she searched for other avenues of escape. The door nearest her had a simple latch—she could easily slip it off if she ever got the chance. But that seemed more unlikely by the hour. And even if she did escape…

  She lifted the shade to stare out the window. Beyond the road lay the stoic hulks of heathery hills glowing silver in the molten moonlight. Nothing else for miles, not even a cottage. She sighed.

  After a while, lulled by the steady beat of horse hooves on packed earth, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  It was some time later before she awakened to realize that her cheek was pressed against the squabs, the blanket lay over her lap…and they’d stopped. Before she opened her eyes, she heard the snick of the driver’s panel sliding open.

  Feigning sleep, she kept her breathing steady, even when light from a carriage lamp shone against her face. Only after the panel closed did she look around. Across from her, Jamie snored peacefully, and outside her window, the sky began to lighten.

  Then the carriage lurched as Lachlan climbed down. Was he going to make Jamie drive? No, or he would have roused the lad. Holding her breath, she watched through slitted eyes as Lachlan paused outside the window to glance in and confirm that they both still slept.

  When he disappeared, she popped up and looked out just in time to see him stop near the road. As he shoved back his coat and rocked back on his heels, she realized what he was doing. With a gulp, she jerked her gaze to the other window.

  They were at the edge of a pine forest cloaked in predawn mist. Her blood roared in her ears. This was her chance. In the fog-shrouded woods, she could find a place to hide until she could reach a crofter’s cottage.

  But she had only a few minutes before Lachlan returned. Keeping an eye on Jamie, she laid her blanket aside and edged open the door opposite the one near Lachlan . Then she leaped out.

  The second her feet hit, she lifted her skirts and ran neck-or-nothing for the pines. There she tore through the bracken, ignoring the birch branches that snagged the sleeves of her deplorably bright pelisse robe.

  Oh, why had she chosen purple yesterday morning? Once dawn fully broke, her gown would stand out like a beacon against the green bracken. Best put as much distance between her and—

  “Damn you, Venetia !”

  The cry spurred her on. Frantically she wove through trunks that became more distinguishable by the moment. Lord save her, the woods weren’t very deep. She could now see beyond the edge to where the mist lay heavier over a loch.

  Shifting direction, she ran parallel to the loch, praying that the woods stretched all the way around. Instead, the trees petered out into a short swath of bracken that ended in a huge slab of granite stretching right down to the water! And now she could hear Lachlan crashing through the brush behind her. He would catch up to her any moment if she didn’t find a place to hide.

  Swiftly skirting a rocky foothill, she left the loch, but the way grew harder until she was climbing steadily upward between huge boulders. It was either go up or go back, and she refused to go back to meet Lachlan .

  With a
ny luck he’d look for her near the loch. Perhaps the giant boulders would shield her from anyone below. She might even find a cave to hide in.

  Suddenly something tawny and fierce dropped onto the path ahead of her and bared its fangs. She nearly screamed…until she realized what it was.

  Only a tabby, thank heaven. A rather large tabby, to be sure, but still…Murmuring soothing words, she approached the snarling creature, probably one of the feral cats she remembered from her childhood.

  “Stop right there, lassie,” came Lachlan’s low voice behind her.

  Her heart sank as she turned to see him approach from behind her with his pistol drawn.

  Not willing to give up, she edged nearer the tabby. “I am not getting back into that coach!”

  The tabby growled and she halted, trying to figure out if she could get past it before Lachlan reached her.

  Oddly enough, Lachlan paid her no heed. His eyes were fixed on the tabby as he inched forward. “Move aside so I can get a clean shot at the beastie.”

  “Beastie! Don’t you dare shoot that tabby—”

  “That’s not a tabby,” he said grimly. “ ’Tis a wildcat. They still roam this part of the Highlands .”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She’d heard of the Scottish wildcat, but she’d never seen one.

  A fact he probably knew. “That is not a wildcat. Look at the poor thing—”

  “You look at it, damn you, and tell me if ye’ve ever seen a tabby that big or that vicious.”

  She stared into the tabby’s narrowed yellow eyes. It did seem awfully large for a house cat, and when she took a tentative step toward it, it hissed like a venomous snake.

  Then she saw why. Set into the rock beyond it was a cave, and a couple of kittens now appeared in the mouth. Very large kittens, only slightly less ferocious than their mama. One of them clutched a small hare in its teeth.

  With a gasp, she fell back, and Lachlan pulled her to his side. But when he raised his pistol, she said, “Nh, Lachlan, please. It was only protecting its little ones. You’ll leave them without a mother.”