Beware a Scot's Revenge

by Sabrina Jeffries

Lachlan snorted at that blatant attempt to get out of the room and away from her captors. “Sit down, lass. She’ll be along soon enough.”

  Venetia took her chair, avoiding his eyes. As if he didn’t already know what she was thinking—that she’d rather be wandering fully dressed throughScotland than trapped in a room with him for the night, half naked.

  Not that he could blame her—the thought of sharing a room with her wearing only a shift was sending his blood into a stampede.

  “What about you, Jamie?” Annie asked. “Have you fresh clothing?”

  “He’ll be fine,”Lachlan cut in. Thankfully Jamie hadn’t heard the part about Lachlan and Venetia sharing a room, but if the boy didn’t leave soon, he’d figure it out, and then Lachlan would never be rid of him. “You’d best be going, lad.”

  “Aye.” Jamie cast Venetia a helpless glance. “I’ll see you both at Rosscraig soon. And if you need anything before I leave, milady—”

  “She doesn’t,”Lachlan bit out. “Now go on with you.” Before the lass has you down on one knee, begging to be her knight-errant and save her from meself.

  Which might just prove necessary if Annie kept trying to undress them both.

  Within moments Annie had the boy out the door and off, then returned to the table. Just when Lachlan was congratulating himself on having dodged a bullet by sending Jamie off successfully, she sat down across from him with a frown. “You’ll need fresh clothing as well, lad.”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “My late husband was about the size you’ve become.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Which reminds me, you still haven’t told me why you look so ill.”

  He groaned. He should have known Annie wouldn’t let it go.

  “I think I can guess why. It’s because of that fight you had with the Scourge, ain’t it?” With a cluck of her tongue, she eyed him balefully. “You shouldn’t have tangled with him. They always said he was a right fierce fellow.”

  Lachlan bit back a smile. “Well, I survived the encounter and he didn’t, so who turned out to be fiercest in the end?”

  She shook her head. “Fierce or no, it was foolish. And what possessed you to go against Duncannon’s enemy, anyway? You of all people, who hates the earl as much as me. You should have let the Scourge alone. He wasn’t hurting nobody.”

  “What?” Venetia cried, ignoring Lachlan when he kicked her beneath the table. “The man preyed on innocent travelers! How is that not hurting anyone?”

  “Those weren’t innocent travelers,” Annie countered. “They were Duncannon’s friends, and probably every one just like him, turning their land over to sheep and forcing their crofters out.”

  Venetia blinked. “What do you mean? How could they force the crofters out? Don’t the tenants have leases?”

  “Aye, but they’re yearly. Once the time was up, Duncannon kicked them out of their homes so he could use their land for sheep pasture.”

  Lachlan silently watched to see how Venetia would react. He’d assumed that she knew of her father’s tactics, but perhaps that was a hasty assumption, like all the others he’d made about her.

  She looked downright ill. “But in London, they talk of how sheep will save the Highlands . How the improvements on the land will—”

  “Improvements!” Annie snorted. “That’s a fancy word for eviction, my lady.” She turned to Lachlan . “Have ye not explained to her what’s going on up here in the north? How the lairds can make twice the money with sheep, so they don’t need their crofters? How land that used to support twenty people now supports a hundred sheep and one shepherd? How people are fleeing the Highlands for America by the shipload?”

  “I think you’re explaining it pretty well,”Lachlan said softly.

  Venetia glanced from him to Annie, her face pale as ash. “I—I didn’t know. They never said what happened to the crofters. I just assumed—”

  “That they found work elsewhere?” Annie set her lips in a thin line. “Aye, they did. In America, in Canada . It was either leave or starve. My husband and I were lucky to stay in Scotland after he was turned off by the earl.” She leaned back in her chair with a sour frown. “But I still say it’s what killed him—not having work, and not wanting to emigrate.”

  “Annie’s husband was the earl’s factor,”Lachlan explained. “They lived near Braidmuir for some years, until her husband spoke out against the sheep farming and how it was displacing the crofters. That’s when the earl had his steward dismiss him and hire that devil McKinley instead.”

  “That’s horrible,”Venetia whispered.

  Did she mean it? Or was she just trying to soften him up again by seeming to sympathize with his friends?

  “My poor love tried his hand at this and that,” Annie said, “but nothing much suited him. Got drunk one night, fell off his horse, and broke his neck, he did.” She shook her head dolefully. “If I hadn’t had an uncle to leave me this lovely house and a wee bit of money, I’d be In America right now meself. Ain’t no place for a woman like me in the Highlands anymore.”

  “Don’t be daft, love,”Lachlan said, reaching over to pat her hand. “There’s always a place for you in the Highlands . I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Oh, go on with you,” she said, but her eyes were misting. She wiped them with a scowl. “Now see what ye’ve gone and done, letting me blather on about the evictions? It only makes me angry, and there’s naught to be done about it.”

  Annie rose and went to check on the pot of water, then called up to her maid-of-all-work. “I’ve got the water boiling, Sally! Time to start hauling it upstairs for our guests’ baths.”

  Holy Christ, he’d assumed she was boiling water for washing.

  When Venetia shot him a panicked look, he groaned. Just the thought of a naked Venetia, water sluicing over her fine limbs, her breasts pink and flushed from the steam…

  He swore under his breath and rose. “Don’t trouble yerself with drawing us a bath, Annie,” he said, though he would dearly love to rid himself of the stink of the road.

  “It’s no trouble, is it, Sally?” she said to the maid as the girl came in.

  “Oh, no, ma’am, no.” Sally grinned, exposing one missing tooth. “Already hauled the tub into the guest room and put out the towels and soap. And I found some fresh lavender and rosemary in the garden to sprinkle in it, too.” She cast Venetia a shy glance. “For the lady.”

  Lachlan clenched his fists. Wonderful. Venetia would not only be naked and clean, but sweet-smelling, too. As if he didn’t already have enough trouble keeping his hands off her.

  “You don’t mind sharing the water, do you?” Annie asked as she poured it into two buckets for Sally, who headed up the stairs with them.

  Venetia had risen, too, and was looking to him for help in getting out of the awkward situation.

  “No, of course not,” he said. “But…er…I’ll head into town and arrange for the gig, so my wife can have a nice long soak. I’ll bathe when I return. Cold water’s good enough for me.” Right now cold water was exactly what he needed.

  “Yes, that’s an excellent idea,”Venetia chimed in cheerily.

  Too cheerily. Mo chreach, what was he thinking? He couldn’t leave her alone here. She’d steal a horse and head off to London before he was half a mile away. He was already forgetting she was his captive, not his wife.

  “I’ll go to town and take care of arranging for the gig,” Annie said, thankfully. “Ye’re both tired and in need of a hot bath and a good sleep.”

  Sally popped into the kitchen and Annie added, “Why don’t you take Lady Ross upstairs and help her undress while Lachlan and I bring in more water to put on for the washing?”

  “Yes’m,” Sally said, and headed for the door with Venetia following after.

  Only after they were gone did Lachlan realize his error. He’d let Venetia go off alone with Sally.

  Cursing under his breath, he strode for the stairs. “I’ve got to ask my wife something,” he mut
tered. “I’ll be back to help you with the water in a bit, Annie.”

  But first he had to make sure his “wife” didn’t bring yet another new ally over to her cause.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dear Cousin,

  Teaching ladies to be wise isn’t the same as teaching them to be cynical. Is it cynical to make sure that a man isn’t just out for what he can get from a woman? I think not. Only if I taught my heiresses not to trust any man could you call me cynical. But in the times we live in, a woman must learn to protect herself from scoundrels.

  Your perturbed relation,

  Charlotte

  Venetia surveyed the guest room as Sally ushered her in. Tucked beneath the eaves, it was dark and not overly large, with a tiny coal grate set into the wall. Aside from the tin tub dominating the room, the other furnishings were a washstand, a sturdy walnut chair, and a beech bedstead scarcely large enough for one person, much less two.

  Worse yet, the bedchamber had only one small casement window. Even if she could squeeze through it, she’d never survive the fall to the ground. That left her only one alternative—enlisting the maid’s help. Because Venetia was not spending the night with Lachlan in that skinny bed.

  ’Tis big enough for two people newly wed.

  She groaned. Even if Lachlan proved more a gentleman than she’d initially thought, she dared not lower her guard. Any man who hated her father so much would never marry her. She’d end up ruined and unwed, and her life would be over.

  No, she mustn’t spend the night alone with him here. She’d take her chances with wildcats on the road back to Edinburgh before she’d do that.

  “How well do you know the laird?”Venetia asked. If Sally shared Annie’s fondness for Lachlan, she wouldn’t be much help.

  Sally blinked at the unexpected question. “This is the first I’ve met him, my lady. But I must say he’s a fine-looking gentleman, fine-looking indeed.”

  “That fine-looking gentleman is not who he seems. Yesterday—”

  “—we traveled so hard and fast that we barely had time to think, much less bathe,”Lachlan finished as he swung open the door. His scar stood out in high relief against his ashen brow, but his eyes were as dark and angry as the wind-sculpted rocks near Braidmuir. “So we vastly appreciate your going to so much trouble for us, Sally.”

  Venetia’s stomach roiled. Leave it to Lachlan to guess what she would try.

  “I didn’t mind a bit. The water’s nice and hot for you.” Sally smiled at Venetia . “If you’ll take off your gown, I’ll help you with your corset.”

  Venetia frowned at Lachlan, who cast her a thinly veiled smile that told her she had no chance of getting him out of the room now. But at least he had the decency to turn his back and head for the window so she could undress.

  Hastily Venetia undid her gown, wondering if he meant to stay in the room the entire night. She’d go dirty rather than sit naked in a tub with him present. Yet she dearly wanted to bathe. Just the sight of the steaming water made her skin tingle with anticipation.

  “Is there a key to this room, Sally?”Lachlan asked from where he stood at the window, holding the dimity curtain aside to gaze out.

  “Yes, sir.” Sally cast Venetia a puzzled glance as she took Venetia’s gown.

  “My wife has a tendency to walk in her sleep.” The blithe lie rolled off Lachlan’s tongue with ease. “So if you’d fetch the key, I’d be most grateful. I can’t have her falling down the stairs in the dark, can I?”

  Curse the man. He thought of everything.

  “No, sir, of course not.”

  When Sally hesitated, glancing at Venetia, Lachlan faced her, his jaw set. “Thanks, lass. And bring whatever nightclothes you can find for my wife. I can take care of her corset.”

  Bobbing her head, Sally slipped out. In two strides, Lachlan was behind Venetia .

  “Lachlan—”

  “Quiet!” He began to undo her laces with a swift efficiency that gave her pause. Clearly the man had performed this service for other women, curse him.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” he went on. “When Sally returns with the key, I’ll make an excuse for sending her off. Then I’ll step outside, you can hand me the rest of yer clothes, and I’ll take them down to Annie so you can have yer bath.”

  She twisted her head to look up at him. “Alone?”

  “Alone.” He met her gaze coolly. “Though I’ll be locking the door, ye ken?”

  “Fine.” She stifled her disappointment. At least she’d get a private bath.

  Her corset fell away, and he caught it, then held it out to her. But as she took one end of the padded fabric, he held the other end fast. “You have to promise, though, that you won’t try to escape through the casement. Even if you get through, there’s nothing below to cushion yer fall, so you’ll break yer damned neck.”

  “I already determined that for myself, thank you very much.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “Good. At least you’ve got some sense.”

  Sense, but not much clothing at the moment. Fortunately, he kept his gaze fixed on her face. That bit of gentlemanly consideration gave her hope. Perhaps sharing a room with him tonight wouldn’t be too awful, after all.

  “I’ll give you an hour to bathe while I help Annie,” he went on. “That shouldn’t rouse her suspicions.” He released her corset. “But when I return, I’ll expect you to be out of the tub and dressed, do ye ken?”

  Clutching the corset to her chest, she nodded quickly.

  “Then you can turn yer face to the wall while I undress and bathe.”

  Dear Lord, he meant to bathe, too? What a tempting image that conjured up, of him sliding naked into the steaming tub, slicking soap over his taut muscles.

  “If you don’t mind, that is,” he said.

  He was eyeing her peculiarly now, and she realized she’d been running her gaze over his body with shameful thoroughness.

  “No…I don’t…that is, if you want to bathe…” At his knowing expression, she forced herself to stop babbling. “I was just wondering…” How to ask this? “We’re not really going to share the bed, are we?”

  The minute his eyes deepened to that luscious chocolate brown, she knew she shouldn’t have asked. “I ought to make you share it with me, princess, since ye’re so eager to be my wife.” The soft burr of his brogue resonated in the pit of her belly, especially when he added, “Might as well carry the pretense to its logical end, wouldn’t you say?”

  She swallowed, wishing that the very idea didn’t send a thrill chasing along her every nerve. “You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean—”

  “Dinna fash yerself, lassie,” he bit out. “I’m not fool enough to put myself within two feet of you when ye’re dressed like that. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “That’s fine, then,” she said, relieved. Or so she tried to convince herself. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be thanking me yet,” he grumbled. “The night is young, and I still mean to make you pay for upsetting all my plans.”

  Realizing he was just blustering to save his pride, she teased, “And how will you do that, pray tell?”

  “Mayhap I’ll take a page from yer book and sing you to sleep.” He shot her a glance of mock menace. “That’ll show ye, won’t it?”

  “I wouldn’t mind hearing you sing,” she admitted.

  That seemed to unsettle him, for he turned his gaze away with a frown. “You say that now, but when my voice sets the dogs to howling, you won’t be so eager.”

  Just then Sally returned with a fresh chemise and the key to the room. True to his word, Lachlan sent her off on some errand, then went to stand outside while Venetia finished undressing and handed her clothing out to him, wrapping the dimity coverlet about her for modesty. Only after he’d locked her in and headed downstairs did she abandon the coverlet to climb into the tub.

  She sank into the water with a sigh of pure pleasure. A bath was lovely enough, but to be left alone to enjoy it was b
liss. It seemed like ages since she hadn’t had Lachlan or Jamie looking over her shoulder every minute.

  She scrubbed her hair and her body with the soap, the familiar scent of lavender and lye bringing tears to her eyes. How long before she saw home again? Would she ever? Somehow she couldn’t see Lachlan handing her over to Papa without getting what he wanted in return. And she couldn’t see Papa giving it to him.

  This entire thing couldn’t end well.

  As soon as she bathed to her satisfaction, she dried off and donned Sally’s chemise, which was rather snug in the bosom. Then she climbed into the bed, pulled the cover up to her chin, squeezed her eyes shut, and turned her face to the wall. If she could fall asleep before Lachlan returned, there’d be no talk between them, and perhaps he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything.

  Oh, what was she thinking? He wasn’t the one she should worry about. Despite his grousing, he’d been a perfect gentleman in nearly every instance.

  Meanwhile, she was softening toward him to a dangerous degree. She’d always prided herself on her ability to see past a man’s handsome face to the character that lay beneath. Flattery had never swayed her, for she could spot insincerity even beneath the smoothest compliment.

  Yet when Lachlan spoke of wanting her, she turned into a puddle of pudding. She sighed. Why was that? Why did she keep forgetting this was just about him and Papa, and she was only a tool for Lachlan to get what he wanted?

  Perhaps it was because he’d been forthright about his aims after he’d kidnapped her. He’d stated his case baldly and let her determine the truth for herself. Even the sad tale of the Highlands at dinner had been brought up by the widow, not him. He hadn’t attempted to use it to gain her sympathy.

  And what a shock to discover that Lachlan wasn’t the only person who hated Papa. All that talk about sheep and forcing out the crofters…could it be true? She’d heard her father’s Scottish friends expound upon how they’d improved their land with sheep farming, but she’d never considered where that left the tenants who’d tilled it. Somehow she’d thought both were living together in harmony.