Lady X (5 page)

She said, “Please sir, then just ask your friend to stop and turn the reins over to the coachman. What he is doing is wrong, not to mention rude. I am a passenger on this coach and should not be treated in this manner.”

“My friend, as you deem him, though I would not, will not be satisfied until he becomes bored. Surprisingly enough,
he can
drive, to an inch, in fact. Ye are quite correct though, this is not fair to ye lass, but I see that we are nearly at the Red Bull, where we will be stopping and yer ordeal will be over.”

“We are not supposed to stop at the Red Bull. I shall be
very late
…” she fretted.

“I am sorry, but the horses are no doubt in a sweat and will need to be rested, hayed and watered before they can go the remainder of the journey. These big cobs weren’t built for such speed.”

“It’s all your fault!” she snapped as the coach had slowed and she managed to pull out of his arms. “You should have stopped him from the start,” she wagged a finger vigorously in his face.

“Ye are exquisite in yer temper,” he said on a low note and then sighed.

“And you, all three of you are loony tunes!” she snapped.

“Loony tunes? What do ye mean? Is that an American expression? Och aye, no doubt ye mean ye think we are mad?” He sighed. “If so then we canna be held responsible for our actions then,” he said glibly. “Yer accent, lass, American I know, but the words ye use…very unusual.”

She realized her modern tongue was going to get her into trouble. She would have to choose her words more wisely. She tried to ignore his remark for the moment and return to the problem at hand, “Your logic, is illogical,” she waved this off. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you feel responsible, I am supposed to be met by someone in Dover and not all of us are in a position to make other arrangements when we are virtually kidnapped and detoured from our destination!”

“Och, lass, do I look the sort that would leave a woman I inconvenienced by someone in my party, to fend for herself?”

“Well, since you and your friends are the sort to take over a coach without concern for the passengers, yes, yes, yes, you do look the sort. You have the ‘devil-may-care’ written all over you,” she answered him irritably.

“Right then, my bonnie lass, let me show ye what such a man, a ‘devil-may-care’ man would do when a beauty such as yourself is alone in his company,” he said on a low husky note, the blue of his eyes deepening so that for a moment, Exerilla could only stare into them. Something about those eyes seemed…
otherworldly.
She was being fanciful she knew and shoved such a notion away.

His arms crushed her, yet, it didn’t hurt. His mouth expertly found her lips and parted them with his own, and suddenly, she felt overtaken. Suddenly she was traveling to another Realm, one of stardust and flowers of every color.

She was with him; in another universe where everything was dark and light and all that mattered were his lips on hers. His tongue teased as it entered and she knew she should kick and push and shove. She was aroused beyond any experience or expectation she had ever had in her life. She wanted to hold onto to him, and taste him forever.

His deft handling of her was sensuous and exhilarating. It took tremendous effort on her part to try and make him stop. She did not succeed, but caved to the sensation he made blossom inside of her. It was as though a clear white light engulfed her and whispered for her to kiss him back. Before she knew what she was doing, she was doing just that.

She was startled by her wild uncontrollable reaction to him and that got through to her and brought her back to earth. She wasn’t the sort that jumped into such things, but here she was shaken by a kiss!

Stop it
, she told herself, as she attempted to regain control of her wayward hormones.
What was happening?
She tried
—
to think logically,
is it
because he is from another century, and he is the ultimate playboy who takes and runs, and he is human…he will die of old age and you will not. Stop!
That thought is what finally got through and sobered her.

Okay, a girl from this time would display outrage and rake him down
. She summed up the ability as she tried to yank away from that all consuming kiss.

She found he immediately released her when she pulled away. She had thought she might have to struggle. She said with sufficient temper, “How dare you!”

“I dare like this,” he whispered and proceeded to slip his arms around her again.

She shuffled away from him on the seat and was immediately jostled to the narrow floor. He reached for her, helped her up and maintained a hand around her waist. She pushed at his fingers and said, “Unhand me, sir.”

He laughed and said, “Do you prefer the floor to my touch?”

“I think you know you have offered me insult, and it is true, I am unprotected, without even a ladies’ maid. That does not mean I am not gently-born or gently bred and even if I weren’t, is that how you conduct yourself with unprotected females?”

She glared at him as he took his time and studied her as though she were in a glass bottle.
What the heck was he doing?

Then he asked, “Who the devil are ye, lass?”

His hand was still holding her steady against the ride, but the coach was slowly turning into a courtyard. She put up her brow and answered, chin high, “I am Exerilla Radley, I was sent to stay with my er…
late father’s
friends,” she paused, distressed with herself for lying, but she had no choice. While she was here in this century she had a part to play. She swallowed and continued, “Their circumstances were complicated and they had no choice but to send me off to their relatives for the time being.” She eyed him as her brows drew together.

His face and eyes appeared to sober, he reached for and gently stroked her cheek. His voice seemed sincere as he said, “Ah, I am sorry for yer loss, sweet lass. Have ye no living relatives in America, then?”

She shook her head and looked away. Lying was something she had never enjoyed. She had to hide the fact that she was a white witch from her friends, but she rarely had to tell ‘out and outers’ or live a lie like this. This was a biggy and for some strange reason, lying to him made her feel queasy inside.

He said, “Brave lass.” And then as though trying to change the mood, his tone was laced with a tease, once again, “Right then, m’darlin’, as I told ye, I am Lord Hunter MacTorry and I shall not allow any harm to come to ye. I am putting m’self at yer feet and in yer service.” He spoke as though to a child.

She made a face like one and said, “Well, you have offered me insult and…”

He frowned, “Insult was not intended.” He reached to stroke her cheek.

She slapped his hand away, and he grinned before he set his blue eyes alight with playfulness, “Aye then, what is it lass, have ye a beau in the wings that might wish to call me out in the morning? Shall I give ye m’card to give to him?”

“I wish I did,” she snapped at him.

He laughed and eyed her, “I doona believe that ye haven’t a beau. Ye are too beautiful, or do ye frown them all away?”

She frowned at him, “Is it working?”

He laughed, “Aye then, I think I have yer measure. Ye wouldna let any other call me out, would ye? No, ye would call me out yerself before ye set anyone to do it fer ye.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that instantaneously curved her lips, “You got that right.”
Oops,
she thought again.
Modern slang won’t do.

Again he eyed her as though puzzled, but seemed to shrug it off as he inclined his head and said, “Right then, I repeat, sweet lass, I am most humbly at your service.”

“Charmingly said, but I think I know the only service
you
want to offer,” she said on a grimace.

He burst out laughing and then looked her over, “Indeed, I know ye are American, but lass, ye have a lively mind and
mouth
.” Saying this, he had her arms gently in his hands as he brought her close and pressed her breasts against his rock hard body. She didn’t struggle. She found she couldn’t struggle because she damn well didn’t want to. Everything about this man excited her and she hadn’t been ‘excited’ in a very long time.

Her eyelids got lazy and she felt that electric current she had experienced before when she looked at him. It shot through her and she swore she could feel the sizzle tinge her skin and light up her blood. She thought of Mellencamp’s song,
Hurt So Good
. This is what it hurt so good meant and it did, yes it did. He didn’t try to kiss her this time. This time his lips were at her ear and he murmured, “Exerilla Radley of America, ye have secrets as we all do, but lass, yers I’ll bet are worth the effort. I doona think we are not destined to meet over and over again…”

Exerilla’s heart began pounding against her chest, her mind began racing. ‘What was he saying? What did he mean? And most definitely,
what the frigging heck
?’

* * *

The main galley of the Red Bull was full to overflowing with gentlemen and to Exerilla’s way of thinking, all of them seemed more than a little festive, for a lazy spring afternoon. None of them looked like farmers. Farmers would be out tending their crops. Besides, from the way they were dressed, she took them for what they were,
gentry.

She overheard them talking and realized most of them were not locals. Apparently most of them were there for the cock fight that was scheduled to take place in the recesses of the inn’s rear courtyard that very evening. She winced at the thought.

Exerilla found a great many stares directed at her as she made her way through, but they seemed more curious than leering still, she did feel mildly uncomfortable. Lord Scotsman seemed to take umbrage, glaring at them till they hurriedly looked away as he led her to a private dining chamber.

It was as though he had taken possession of her as he gently steered her through and saw to her immediate comforts. She couldn’t deny being impressed.

She was in fact, aware of a very deep sensation of gratitude. Just what did a poor woman do when she was alone in this century and needed to stop for a respite?

He saw her within the chamber, saw her seated on a velvet cushioned chair near the low burning fire in the small hearth and stopped to touch her shoulder reassuringly. His blue eyes were alive with concern and his dark brows were drawn in a frown. “I am sorry, Miss Radley, I did not realize the inn would be so crowded at this time of day. The men seem to be enjoying a bit of sport but none will bother ye. More of a sporting tavern, ye see, as the stagecoach never really stops here.” He sighed. “It will all be over soon. Sir Jacob is mollifying the coachman right now with a bit of the ready and a hearty meal. That done, his horses rested, he will drive ye off to Dover to meet yer people with no more harm done.”

“That sounds like a plan but it isn’t, not for
me,”
she shook her head and sighed. “First of all, I can only wonder what those men out there think, seeing you escort me in here alone. In this day and age, things like that aren’t done. Secondly, ‘my people’ as you call them,” she had put the words in quote with her fingers. “Will not be there to meet me as I doubt they can just stay about the stagecoach depot and wait all evening.”

He frowned as she spoke and again she realized she would have to play her part a bit better. She was saved by a young serving girl who entered with a tray laden with refreshments.

“Ah,” he said as he poured a glass of wine, got on one knee and handed it to Exerilla. “A truce, Miss Exerilla Radley?”

He shook her to her core.

Everything he did, totally and completely caught her off her guard. She took the glass because she damn well needed it and said, “Oh please, get up.” She couldn’t prevent the tickle in her throat from escaping as she ruefully smiled.

“I’d rather pull you down here with me,” he said raising his eyes to hers before he started to rise.

They were interrupted at this juncture by a male voice at the door his lordship had left wide open. “Food! Damn, but you are a smart fellow, Hunter ole boy.’ Then, as the young man she knew to be Sir Jacob spied Exerilla demurely seated by the fire, he promptly turned a bright shade of red and lamely mumbled, “Oh…oh, well, hallo.”

“Jacob, allow me to introduce Miss Exerilla Radley to ye. The poor lass was Jerry’s prisoner during his harrowing drive and I am trying to make it up to her.” He inclined his head, “Miss Radley, Sir Jacob Cressly.”

Sir Jacob seemed overcome with guilt as he stammered incoherently and bent his head toward her in his attempt to apologize and finally managed, “Miss Radley, what you must think of us? I…oh well, what can I say? I do beg your forgiveness.”

He didn’t look much older than she was herself and she could see that he truly was embarrassed. She smiled and waved it off, “Well, it wasn’t
your
fault.”

“Uh-oh,” his lordship said ruefully. “Not
his
fault, but
mine?
I should like to know the road ye took to get to that one.”

“
You
are older and should have stopped your awful friend. Sir Jacob is probably my age, and no doubt has been allowed to think that other one is just a blood out for sport.” She turned to Jacob, “But you know, sir, that is not the way to look at it when you force people to endure your sport. One doesn’t engage in sport at others expense. Think about that.” She eyed him and although she thought that he looked sufficiently abashed, added, “It is all well and good to go out and have a jolly old time when you don’t drag unwilling people into your game. What you did was short of kidnapping.” She wanted to send her message home, for she could see he wasn’t a bad sort. She couldn’t figure out what he was doing keeping company with a creep like the one called Jerry Swit and for that matter, a player like MacTorry.