by Lydia Dare
“Take my coach to Edinburgh,” he said quietly. “I can continue to Glasgow on horseback.”
She folded her arms across her chest. So he’d heard her conversation with Jeannie. “Eavesdroppin’ is so ill-mannered. Ye are an English lord. One would think ye were somewhat civilized.”
“I can’t help it.” He tapped one ear. “No matter where you are, I hear your melodic voice.”
Cait rolled her eyes. “Save yer flattery for someone who wants it.”
His brow furrowed as though she’d hurt him. Cait felt a twinge of guilt, but only for a moment. His scandalous exploits were still fresh in her mind.
“The inn doesn’t have any coaches for hire, Caitie. At least let me do this for you.”
Cait sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected that from him. Since the very beginning, he’d been searching for ways to get her alone. Would he really ride to Glasgow alone, outside in the cold January air? “Suddenly a gentleman?”
Dash took a step toward her and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Anything to see you smile in my direction.”
She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.
“Ah, there it is,” he said softly. “The prettiest girl in all of Britain.”
A lock of his golden hair hung in his eyes, and her fingers itched to smooth it back into place. But encouraging him wouldn’t do her any good. “I’d hate ta impose, my lord—by confiscatin’ yer coach,” she clarified.
Dash winked at her. “What’s mine is yours, angel.”
But something he said niggled at the back of her mind. “Are ye really headed ta Glasgow?”
A shadowy expression settled on his face, and he nodded once.
“Why?”
“Something I need to take care of,” he hedged. Then Dash gestured toward the corridor. “Say you’ll take my carriage.”
What else could she do? Cait nodded, still surprised by his generosity. She couldn’t help but wonder what awaited him in Glasgow. She’d been foolish to think he’d traveled this road simply to follow her. She’d been flattered but foolish all the same. It would have been so nice, she supposed, if his journey had been inspired by her. What a silly, romantic notion.
“Thank ye, sir.”
***
Her light blue eyes softened on him, and Dash had to force himself not to howl with joy. He’d gladly brave the frigid air all the way to Glasgow, or to her home in Edinburgh if that’s where she wanted to go, if it meant she’d travel in his carriage. Blast MacQuarrie to hell for trying to steal her away.
“Will you join me for breakfast?” he asked softly, aware he was pressing his luck.
Caitrin flashed him a beautiful smile. “Are ye actually askin’ me, my lord? I’ve been so accustomed ta ye dictatin’ my every move.”
Only because he’d been convinced that if he gave her a choice, she’d turn him down. And he didn’t know how he’d overcome that obstacle. This morning, however, he felt confident enough in her response to ask. After all, she’d already accepted the offer of his coach. What was a little meal between intended mates?
“It’s entirely up to you, Caitie.”
She nodded. “I think I would like that.”
Dash offered her his arm and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when she accepted it. Things were certainly looking up for him. If only he could find a way to get his journal back… not that he was about to broach the subject with her this morning. She was smiling at him, and they were going to share breakfast together. He’d have to find it later.
As they started down the steps, Alec MacQuarrie walked in through the doors of the inn. His eyes immediately found Caitrin. “What do you mean, you won’t let me take you to Edinburgh?”
She stiffened beside Dash, and he squeezed her arm. He tilted his head to one side and raised his brow in the Scot’s direction. “I’m headed to Scotland anyway, MacQuarrie. Miss Macleod has accepted the use of my conveyance.”
Alec MacQuarrie’s face heated up, and it was all Dash could do to bite back a smirk. But he didn’t think Caitrin would appreciate that. So he schooled his features, hoping he appeared an innocent good Samaritan.
“Him?” MacQuarrie sputtered. “For pity’s sake, Cait!”
She leveled her iciest stare at her countryman. “I’m afraid I canna be in yer life, Alec. No’ in the capacity ye want, anyway. It’s better this way.”
MacQuarrie scowled at Dash and grumbled, “I’ll never give her up, Brimsworth,” but his comment was too soft for anyone other than Dash to hear.
Sixteen
Covered with her plaid, Cait glanced out the window of Brimsworth’s coach. The earl looked magnificent astride a horse. Virile and strong. Though at the moment, he also looked like he was freezing. The last time he’d turned to smile and wink at her, his eyes had lost their sparkle. Perhaps she should invite him inside the coach. She did have Jeannie to chaperone, after all.
She sighed at the thought. That was probably what he wanted. Besides, he did have the warm blood of a Lycan running through his veins. He’d be fine.
It wasn’t until a few hours later that she looked for him and noticed the rain. It was a mere sprinkle, but he lifted his cupped hands to blow a warm breath across his fingers and guilt tore at Caitrin’s heart. She was making the poor man ride in the cold and the rain when there was plenty of room and warmth in his own coach.
Now she felt terrible. Jeannie must have seen the look on her face because she groaned and said, “I was wonderin’ how long it would be before it got ta ye, Miss.”
“He looks so cold. I canna make him ride alongside any longer. We’ll have ta let him inside.”
“Seems everyone would be more comfortable if Mr. MacQuarrie invited the earl ta ride in his coach.”
“It’s obvious MacQuarrie isna goin’ ta do that, is it no’?” Caitrin didn’t know if she wanted to kick Alec or herself for the situation. “We have ta get him out of the rain.”
Jeannie called for the driver to stop, and Caitrin couldn’t keep from smiling when Dash opened the door and popped his head inside.
“You’ve need of me, eh?” He smiled broadly as he pulled his hat from his head and tossed it onto the empty seat beside Jeannie.
“I dinna say that,” she started.
He chuckled as he climbed inside, dropped his sodden greatcoat on the bench next to his hat, and settled heavily beside Caitrin. “Admit it, Miss MacLeod,” he teased, “you missed me.”
“I pitied ye, my lord.” Cait fought the grin that threatened to erupt.
“Pity the man with the broken heart who’s forced to ride outside his own carriage?”
“One must have a heart before one may claim it’s broken,” she returned.
“Oh, you wound me, angel,” he laughed.
Jeannie coughed loudly from her side of the carriage, as though to remind them of her presence.
Dash lowered his voice dramatically. “I vote that we make her ride with Mr. MacQuarrie. What do you say?”
Cait couldn’t hold back her giggle when she saw the mortified look on Jeannie’s face. She reached over to touch her maid’s knee. “He doesna mean it,” she said.
“I highly doubt that, Miss,” Jeannie spat as she glared in his direction.
Dash winked at her, making the woman flush. Then he reached over and touched his frigid hands to Cait’s cheek. She jumped back and squealed. “Oh, ye are cold.”
“And sore. I’ve been astride a horse more today than I have been in quite some time,” he groaned, stretching out his legs.
“Ye mean ta make me feel terribly guilty, do ye?” Cait shook her head. “Ye did offer…” She let her sentence trail off.
“I’m just glad you came to your senses,” he said before he ducked his head quickly and kissed her cheek.
Cait felt the heat rush up her face. “Ye shouldna have done that,” she scolded him.
“I couldn’t help it. You can punish me later.” He wagged his eyebrows dramaticall
y.
“Ye’re terrible,” Cait laughed.
“And you love it.”
“I wouldna go that far.”
He bent his head and whispered in her ear. “Then how far will you let me go?”
Jeannie crossed her arms and stared out the window, shaking her head, her lips pressed so tightly together that white lines appeared around them.
“I thought we might eat at the next stop before we settle for the night.”
Cait winced. Another horrid night in an inn. She’d rather count all the stones at Arthur’s Seat and then arrange them by shape and size.
“What’s that look for?” Dash asked, concern lacing his voice.
Cait shrugged, knowing she couldn’t actually tell him about the visions and futures that plagued her in such places. “I’m just in a hurry ta be home is all.” That much was at least the truth.
“You want to drive through the night?” He absently rubbed his thighs quickly, creating friction and heat against his leather riding breeches. He still looked a bit blue.
“Only if ye think yer driver is capable.”
Dash laughed. “If he thought you questioned his abilities, Renshaw would consider it a matter of pride.” His grin faded and he nodded in her direction. “If you want to ride through the night, I’ll see to it, Caitie.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she sighed. Cait lifted the edge of her plaid and settled it over his lap.
He stilled and looked at her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me such kindness, angel.”
***
Dash couldn’t remember a time when anyone else had ever covered him with a blanket or even tried to see to his comfort. His mother had died at his birth, and his father had taken great pride in seeing to his discomfort by hiring nurses, governesses, and tutors who didn’t have a nurturing bone in their bodies.
So, he wasn’t surprised to find that she touched his heart a bit when she’d offered him the corner of her plaid.
Cait turned to him with a furrowed brow. “May I ask ye a question?”
Her hand slid to touch his leg under the plaid, and Dash tamped down the lust her gentle touch sent racing through him. Traveling through the night suddenly seemed the best idea he’d had in a long while. If Cait wasn’t careful, he’d toss up her skirts right then and there. Jeannie be damned. Move it just a little to the left, angel.
“I beg your pardon?” he managed.
“I want ta ask ye a question.”
“Anything,” he answered. And was surprised to find that he meant it.
“What did ye love about Prisca Hawthorne?”
Dash winced, and his ardor vanished. She couldn’t have picked a worse topic. Well, she could have asked about his journal. That would have been worse, but not by much.
“Ye asked her ta marry ye,” Caitrin prodded. “So, I assume ye must have loved her.”
“I wouldn’t go that far…”
She nudged him with her elbow when he stopped talking, and Dash nearly growled. He should have stayed on the horse, no matter how bloody cold it was.
“How did ye meet her?”
“One of her brothers is a friend of mine. I met her when he invited me to spend the holiday in Hampshire.”
“Ye say it as though ye hail from someplace else.”
“Kent,” he replied. “Though it has been years since I’ve been home.” And he had no intention of returning until the old buzzard was gone.
“I see,” she said, and for a moment he thought that perhaps she really did see through him. “And are ye sad that Prisca married Lord William?”
“Honestly?”
“No, I like it when ye lie ta me.” She rolled her eyes.
God, he wanted to kiss her. “No. I’m not sad she married Lord William. I was angry and jealous for a while. And I didn’t like losing. But I’m not sad.”
“What did ye like about her?”
Dash scrubbed a hand across his face. How could he get back to the horse without looking like an arse? He took a deep breath and told her the truth. “Prisca was beautiful. And she was charming. And smart. She would have made an excellent countess.”
“But?”
“But she wasn’t meant for me.” He shrugged. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Aye, she does,” the maid mumbled from her side of the coach.
“Why wasn’t she meant for ye?”
“Well, that’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?”
“No.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “What are ye talkin’ about?”
“You are meant for me, angel.”
“We’ll see about that,” was her only reply. Then she removed her hand from his leg, quieted, and simply gazed out the window.
Dash wasn’t certain what to make of her questions, but he figured it was a good sign she was curious about him. As the coach slowed at the next inn, he found himself quite pleased with his circumstances. He alighted and handed her out.
“I need to make some preparations. Will you be all right?” he asked.
“Aye, I just need ta stretch my legs a bit.”
She smiled at him, and Dash felt it all the way in his soul. He shook his head as he walked away. She was a bit of a challenge. But he was beginning to think she was worth it.
***
Cait watched him walk away, enjoying the swagger in his walk more than she should, she was sure.
“Well, he didn’t chew you to bits, I see,” a deep voice said from behind her. She swung around to find Alec walking toward her.
“Aye, I’m still in one piece, Mr. MacQuarrie. No thanks ta ye.”
“Me?”
“Ye could have offered ta let him ride in yer coach when ye realized it was startin’ ta rain.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Ta be nice?”
“To him? Have you gone completely daft, Cait? I’d not ride a foot with him. Much less suffer his company for a whole day.”
“He was actually quite a gentleman.” Cait didn’t even realize she was defending him until the words left her mouth. Still, it was true. “He was pleasant company.”
“It’s not right, Caitrin,” Alec said quietly. “You shouldn’t be alone with that man.”
“I wasna alone with him. I had Jeannie with me.”
“Poor help she’d be if he decided to take liberties with your person.”
“He’d do no such thing!” Cait insisted. But her mind was flooded with the memory of him holding her completely bare on his lap the night she’d been caught in the storm.
She realized in that instant she craved Dashiel Thorpe in more ways than one, which was a problem. He wasn’t hers any more than Alec MacQuarrie was. How had she gotten herself into such a mess?
Alec scoffed as he took a step closer to her. “Don’t be a fool, Cait. The man is hardly a gentleman, earl or not. There’s something dangerous about him. I can’t put my finger on it. But I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard that, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear it from Alec. Cait narrowed her eyes at him. “How he looks at me is hardly yer concern.”
“The devil if it isn’t,” he retorted. “You know I’ll always take care of you. And you know I love you, and—”
“No’ for much longer, Alec. And when—”
“Not another word,” he growled. “You may see things, Cait, but you can’t possibly know what’s in my heart.”
But she knew who would be in his heart, and she couldn’t alter the path of Sorcha’s future.
Cait turned her back on Alec and started toward the inn. She wouldn’t have this conversation again. It always ended the same, with neither of them gaining any ground. If he knew so much about her abilities, why couldn’t he just accept that she knew the future better than he did? Blast him for making this more difficult!
As she neared the taproom door, it opened and Dash stepped outside before her. A
warm smile graced his lips, and she cursed herself for finding comfort in his amber gaze. Wouldn’t it be nice if she saw him in her future?
Seventeen
Dash was relieved when they climbed back inside the coach after dinner. Neither Caitrin nor MacQuarrie said two words over the meal, and while he was comforted by the fact that the Scot hadn’t made any inroads, he hated to see his angel so unhappy.
Cait pulled the Macleod plaid over herself and curled up in a ball in one corner of the coach. Her sour-faced maid scowled at Dash as he took the spot beside Caitrin, and he returned the look.
He wasn’t certain why Cait insisted on traveling straight through the night. She acted almost as though demons were chasing her out of England. The most disheartening aspect of the situation was that their pace didn’t allow him the opportunity to seduce her. He had anticipated sneaking into her room each night as they traveled. Hell, he’d dreamt about it. And though Caitrin was within arm’s length of him in his coach, he had her inept maid to deal with.
How could he convince Caitrin to marry him if he wasn’t afforded the chance to slip between her sheets?
In no time, he found himself listening to Jeannie’s snores and Cait’s light sighs. His flaxen-haired angel truly appeared to have been sent from heaven, her rosebud lips so kissable and her soft lashes resting on her cheeks. He couldn’t have mistakenly claimed a more fitting mate. How lucky that her grim maid hadn’t been the one who’d crossed his path that night in the Duke of Blackmoor’s study.
Suddenly, Cait’s heart began to race and she jerked awake. She gasped for breath, and Dash hauled her to his lap. “It’s all right, angel. I’m here,” he soothed.
She clutched at his waistcoat and buried her face against his chest.
“Oh, Blaire,” she muttered miserably.
“Blaire?” he repeated. “The lass who makes all the men in Scotland look like weaklings?”
She nodded, soaking his shirt through with her tears.
“Caitie,” he said softly, stroking her back. “It was just a dream, angel.”
“No,” she sobbed. “Th-there was a monster.”
“Shh.” He held her close, ignoring the word “monster,” as he’d been called that more times than he cared to count. “Go back to sleep, Caitie. It’ll be all right.”
