Claiming His Defiant Miss

by Bronwyn Scott

  May’s mind started to work again. ‘What are you doing here?’ He wasn’t here for her. They’d parted badly. But if not for her, then who? Preston? No! Her thoughts became a whirlwind driven by not a little panic. The letter she’d picked up at the market! It was at the bottom of her basket.

  May darted to the yard where she’d dropped the basket, her mind working at full speed. She grabbed the letter and raced back inside, firing off questions. ‘What’s happened to Preston? Where is he? Is he with you?’ It wasn’t beyond possibility he had come with Liam, and was off on an errand. She tore into the letter. Two loose pages fell out. She was not interested in them, only in the bold scrawl of Preston’s handwriting. She scanned the letter, trying to assimilate the information. May glared at Liam. ‘Tell me. What, exactly, has happened to my brother?’

  ‘He’s been stabbed, May,’ Liam began evenly, perhaps in the hope of not panicking her. But there was no way the word ‘stabbed’ could be received with bland reaction. There was a gasp behind her, a reminder that Bea was still in the room, silently watching this unexpected reunion play out.

  May took a step backwards and sank next to Bea on the little sofa, vaguely aware of Bea taking her hand in support. She would not panic. She would not go to pieces in front of him. ‘When did this happen? Tell me everything.’

  ‘Six days ago.’ Liam flicked a questioning glance Beatrice’s way and May’s stomach knotted. He would only tell her part of the truth without knowing Beatrice’s full measure. It worried her greatly if Liam was considering mincing words. What needed to be hidden? May picked up the papers from the floor. She studied the sheets. She could see now that they were ledger pages recording expenditures and funds received. There were names and amounts, very condemning proof indeed for whatever had happened and Preston had sent it to her. It spoke volumes about his injury. ‘Is he going to pull through?’ They were hard words to utter. She had to presume the wound had been dangerous enough to warrant Liam coming to her. For the sake of her own sanity, she had to also assume Preston was alive, at least six days ago. Bea’s grip tightened around her hand and she was grateful for her friend’s support.

  Liam hesitated. ‘I stitched him up as best I could. I took him to a remote farmhouse.’ He answered her next question before she could ask it. He’d always been good at that—knowing her thoughts before she did. It was a damn annoying habit when it wasn’t being useful. ‘Preston wouldn’t let me send for a doctor.’ Of course not. Her brother would be concerned for the safety of anyone he implicated. Whoever the villain in this mission was would seek out doctors in his search to find a wounded man. ‘Preston made me promise to come straight to you.’

  ‘To me or to the letter?’ May queried, but Preston’s actions already indicated the gravity of the situation. He had sent her information that needed protecting by someone whom her brother would trust with his life.

  ‘Do you even need to ask?’ Liam scolded her. ‘Your safety was Preston’s first thought as he lay bleeding in the road.’

  His words shamed her. She’d known better than to assume otherwise. They also frightened her. She heard the unspoken message. Preston had thought there was the possibility he might die if he’d sent Liam as his proxy. An idea struck her. ‘You can take me to him.’ He would know where Preston was. She half-rose from the sofa, plans coming rapidly. She would pack, they would go by horseback for faster time. ‘We can leave today.’ Within the hour.

  That got a literal rise out of him. The very idea of travelling any distance with her accomplished what the explosive end of a pistol had not. Liam was out of his chair in an instant. ‘And take you in to the lion’s den with the very evidence your brother risked his life to get?’ His incredulity was obvious. ‘What kind of fool-brained idea is that? Your brother sent me to protect you, not to expose you.’

  Expose her to whom? She wanted details, but she wasn’t going to get them with Beatrice in the room. ‘I can protect myself just fine. I will shoot anyone who crosses that threshold uninvited, as you are very well aware.’

  ‘It is irrelevant.’ Liam’s reply was sanguine. ‘I am sure you can shoot one man. I recall you have excellent aim. There are men’s lives at stake, shooting one won’t be enough.’ Again the vagaries. She had no choice but to get Liam alone if she wanted more information. ‘If the man in question is caught, he faces treason and the noose. He will not send one man. He did not send one man against your brother and me on the road. He will not send one man against you. He will not care there is a pregnant woman in the house or a baby.’ What had Preston got himself involved in now? She knew his work was more than what it appeared on the surface, but tracking treasonous individuals? That was far more than she’d anticipated.

  May tried not to look affected with the dire picture he painted. Her desire for details warred with her concern for Beatrice. She didn’t want Liam upsetting Beatrice who had enough to deal with. ‘Whoever this new enemy is has to find me first.’

  ‘He’s desperate. He will find you. He’s a man with resources and you were just in Sussex for a friend’s wedding. Your family knows. Presumably they will have mentioned it to someone, perhaps several people. Someone, somewhere, will know you’re here.’

  ‘Surely you’re not suggesting we leave.’ Suddenly the thought was appalling, although it had been her very thought just moments ago. This cottage, this village, had become her world. This was where she was free. To leave would be to march straight back into society’s silk-and-lace prison. While she would have given up the cottage to go to Preston in his need, she would not give up this cottage on the outside chance she would be discovered. They couldn’t possibly take Beatrice with them in her condition and yet Beatrice couldn’t stay. If anyone was looking for her, the trail would lead here. Beatrice wouldn’t be safe.

  Liam leaned back in his chair, hands laced over the flat of his stomach, his eyes skimming hers. ‘Not at all, Maylark. We stay here and wait it out.’

  ‘You’re going to stay here?’ It was her turn to be incredulous. In this small cottage? With her? Cosy was already becoming cramped. How would they ever manage to share this space?

  Liam grinned, an irritatingly devilish smile full of smugness. She hated having risen to the bait. The dratted man had known how much that idea would irk her. ‘That is exactly what I’m suggesting. I can sleep in the barn.’

  ‘No, we have a spare room.’ Bea put in quickly. ‘The barn is too cold in winter.’ May shot her a hard look. When had Bea turned traitor? Couldn’t Bea see she didn’t want him here? Maybe not, to be fair. Bea didn’t know Liam Casek. May had told no one, not even her close friends, about that summer at the lakes, the summer Jonathon Lashley hadn’t come on holiday with the Worths and her brother had brought this friend instead.

  Liam nodded gratefully at Bea. ‘I appreciate it, Mistress Fields.’ Bea actually blushed. May rolled her eyes. He’d already got to Beatrice with his rough brand of gallantry. She’d forgive her friend. She knew how easy it was to fall for that charm.

  ‘I’ll go ready the room, Mr Casek. May can show you around our little place.’ May stifled a groan. Mister this, and mistress that. Good heavens, all this polite formality was going to kill her if showing Liam around didn’t do it first.

  ‘How long do you suppose you’ll be here?’ May asked bluntly.

  Liam’s blue eyes narrowed to dancing flints. ‘As long as it takes to keep you safe. Until the new year, I imagine.’ He shot Bea a considerate glance. ‘I’ll be sure to make myself useful. Looks like that barn roof could use a little work and you’ll need an extra set of hands once the bairn gets here.’ That was his breeding showing or lack of it. No gentleman friend of Preston’s would have considered the impact of one more mouth to feed and care for. Neither would a gentleman have mentioned a pregnancy even if a nine-month belly was staring him rather obviously in the face. Liam Casek might have a gentleman’s mouth, but he’d
been raised working poor. Life held no secrets for him.

  ‘It will be good to have a man around the house,’ Beatrice acceded with another smile. Not that man, though. The last thing May wanted was to be alone with him, and now she would be for months, not because she felt threatened by him but because of who she was when she was with him. That frightened her a great deal even as it thrilled her.

  Chapter Three

  Liam stepped outdoors and scanned the yard, looking for a destination. The stone fence to his left seemed as good a place as any to have this conversation. He strode towards it, aware of May behind him. He’d give her five strides before her patience broke and she started demanding information.

  One... May Worth could still frighten the living daylights out of him. That hadn’t changed in five years. He would have thought a man who’d been to war, a man who’d seen men die, who’d often delivered that death personally and intimately on behalf of the Crown, would not be so easily frightened by a single female. But logic failed to account for May Worth. There was so much to be frightened by: her beauty, her intelligence, her overwhelming confidence in the rightness of her opinion, but it was her stubbornness that frightened him the most, not because she intimidated him but because he revelled in her fearlessness.

  Two... He’d once found her fearlessness so intoxicating he’d believed he could change the world for her. He’d been drawn to it like an addict to opium. He was a stronger man now, his own ideals and expectations better tempered by reality. Was she? He feared that reckless stubborn streak would be the author of her demise someday.

  Three... Look where it had led already today: it had her pulling a pistol on a guest and demanding safe passage to her brother’s side, then refusing to leave the cottage. Very shortly it was going to prompt her to ask for every ounce of information he possessed regarding Preston and she was not going to like what he had to say.

  Four...

  ‘Tell me everything,’ May blurted out, catching up to him. Five strides had been too optimistic. ‘We’re alone now, there’s no reason not to.’ There was a scold in there somewhere for him. She was angry he’d held back. She was anxious, which made her anger excusable, understandable even, but he still made her wait until they reached the stone fence. Someone had to teach May patience.

  He leaned his elbows on the rough surface of the stone and looked out over the expanse of green field. It was far less disconcerting than looking at her and seeing those beautiful green eyes that could stalk a man like a tiger or burn with emerald passion, the rich walnut sheen of her hair, the elegant sweep of her jaw, the defiant point of her chin, the delicate, straight length of her nose set to perfection on her face, all of which informed a man without asking that this was a lady born to wealth and luxury. And then there was that skin, so perfectly translucent it called to mind every cliché he’d ever heard about silk and pearls and alabaster. It was indeed hard to speak when one could choose to look at May Worth instead. He’d learned to cultivate the skill, however. His sanity and male pride had depended on it.

  ‘The Home and Foreign Offices sent your brother to track down a man named Cabot Roan.’ He began in low tones, glancing around out of habit. They were in the middle of nowhere, but he couldn’t help it. One could never be too cautious. ‘Roan is suspected of leading an arms cartel whose interests do not always parallel Britain’s.’ He would not patronise May with an elementary explanation. She was intelligent. She would understand the implications.

  ‘Apparently my brother found him,’ May said drily.

  ‘Yes, and then they found us, on the road out of town at dark.’ Liam paused, letting her digest the information. She knew the rest from what he’d told her inside. ‘Roan will come looking for you. If he can’t find Preston, he will want to use you as leverage to get to him. The protection I offer is real, as is your need for it.’

  May scoffed and repeated her earlier argument. ‘Hardly anyone knows I’m in Scotland. I rather think my location is my best protection.’

  ‘You’ve already heard my answer to that. Roan is very resourceful. He will find the people who know. Now that his life is on the line, he will be even more redoubtable. We must proceed as if he will find out.’

  May was instantly wary. ‘Does this process involve more than sleeping in my cottage and repairing my barn roof?’ He could feel her eyes on him, probably narrowed to emerald slits of consideration.

  Liam mentally braced himself for the storm. She wouldn’t like this next part. May did not tolerate being told what to do under the best of circumstances. ‘I am to be with you at all times and, if not, I need to know where you’ll be, when you’ll be there and who you’ll be with.’ He had to look at her now. The temptation was too great.

  She shook her head and the storm broke. ‘I will not be treated like a small child who can’t be out of her mother’s sight on the off chance this Cabot Roan might come looking for me. So if you’ll excuse me, I have vegetables to put away before they wilt.’ May’s eyes flashed and she turned on her heel, presuming to walk away.

  Liam reached for her, grabbing her arm, forcing his body to absorb the shock of touching her again after so long. ‘This is not the time to be stubborn, May,’ he growled, determined to make her see reason.

  Her gaze went to his grip on her arm, her voice sharp. ‘Take your hand off me. I will not allow you to be my gaoler.’

  ‘Not your gaoler, May, your bodyguard. Please, May. This is not about what you want or even what I want. This is about Preston, about keeping Mistress Fields and the baby safe.’ It was his best argument, this appeal to pathos. May would do anything for the ones she loved, the ones who needed her protection. It was yet another way she was like her brother.

  Some of the fire went out of her eyes and she relented. ‘How long before we know if Roan is coming?’

  Liam shook his head. ‘We don’t know. He could come tomorrow, perhaps he is just a day or two behind me. Perhaps it will be a couple of weeks or months depending on how long it takes Roan to discover where you are.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll never come.’

  ‘We can hope for that.’ The odds weren’t convincing. He knew Roan. The man was tenacious.

  May wrapped her arms about herself and shivered in spite of the wool shawl she wore. It was cold out, the day brisk even for November, but he thought the shiver was from something more than the weather. ‘We’ll have to tell Beatrice.’ She shot him an accusing glance. ‘You could have told her inside.’ Now that she had her information, she could indulge in the scold he’d sensed was brewing earlier. ‘You didn’t have to hold back. You can trust Beatrice.’

  It was his turn to go on the defensive. ‘How was I to know if I could trust her or if it would be too upsetting in her condition?’ He had his suspicions about Mistress Fields and her seafaring husband, but he wasn’t going to voice them out loud and risk alienating May. He had more important battles to win today.

  ‘I had only an acquaintance of minutes to rely on for my judgement. I erred on the side of discretion for the sake of the baby.’ If Beatrice Fields had secrets, it was hardly any of his concern. In his line of work, he’d learned women had secrets just like men, and like men, they, too, could be dangerous creatures. He wasn’t going to underestimate anyone simply because they were female. At the moment, his only interest in Beatrice Fields was her connection to why May was in godforsaken Scotland.

  ‘I’ve told you what I know, now it’s your turn. What are you doing here? Why didn’t you stay in Sussex with the family after the wedding?’

  ‘That should be obvious. Beatrice needs me. She can’t deliver a baby on her own.’ May fidgeted a little and looked past his shoulder out to the field. There was more to this than the loyalty of friendship.

  ‘That’s what doctors and midwives are for. Have you delivered many babies in the last five years, then? With a gun in one hand, no
ne the less?’ Liam pressed. May wasn’t lying—May never lied, not even to spare a man’s feelings, so he had learned. But she wasn’t telling him quite the truth either.

  ‘This is the wilds of Scotland. Two women on their own can’t be too careful. I wasn’t expecting company, that’s all,’ May snapped. He realised it was as close to an apology as he was going to get for being greeted with a pistol.

  He arched a dark brow. ‘I disagree. No one carries a pistol when they’re not expecting anything. I think you were expecting something—trouble, perhaps?’

  ‘Trouble doesn’t follow me everywhere,’ she began.

  ‘No, it doesn’t. You follow it, as I recall. There was that incident with the oak tree, the rowboat, the cigars—need I go on?’

  ‘I was precocious in my younger years.’ Her cheeks burned with the admission. He shouldn’t have teased her. She would hate having her adolescence thrown in her face as much as he would.

  ‘I’d wager you are still precocious.’ His tone softened and he allowed himself a smile. It was dangerous to let himself entertain even a moment of nostalgia where May was concerned. ‘I always liked that about you, May. Never afraid of a challenge, which leads me to conclude that’s really why you’re here. You’ve followed your friend into exile perhaps, as you say, to help her birth this whelp, perhaps to thumb your nose at your parents and society. Perhaps a little of both. But, there is something more. Neither of those are a particular challenge to you.’ He was quiet for a minute, studying her, searching for the answer. He hadn’t ferreted out the real reason she was here. ‘What is Mistress Fields going to do with the child?’