School For Heiresses 3- Beware A Scot's Revenge (10 page)

“The more famished you get, the less trouble you’ll give me.”

She glared at him.

“With you too weak to run off or fight, I should be able to—”

“Oh, give me a sandwich, curse you.” Leave it to a beast like him to call her bluff. And to hit on the one reason she
should
eat.

Eyes gleaming with triumph, he handed her another packet, then continued searching his knapsack.

“There’s apples, too.”

She removed her gloves, unwrapped the packet, then laid the paper primly out on her lap to use as her plate. He stopped rummaging to watch as she meticulously tore the sandwich into more manageable pieces.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“What the devil are you doing?” he asked.

“Eating the sandwich.”

“No, you’re not. You’re dissecting it.”

She popped a piece in her mouth, chewed it ten times, then swallowed. “This is how I eat a sandwich, sir.”

“Why?”

Years of habit. Mama had taught her to eat that way because of her tendency to wolf her food. But why tell him that when she could annoy him instead? “This is how civilized people eat. But of course, a man like you wouldn’t understand.”

She had to suppress her smile when he scowled. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re being abducted. It isn’t the time to be worrying about yer proprieties.”

“Good manners are always appropriate. Indeed, the true measure of a lady is how she behaves in the most difficult of times.” When he snorted, she said, “I assume you were taught something similar in the army, to cling to discipline no matter what. Though you’ve clearly ignored
that
training in recent years.”

“Ah, yes, discipline,” he said with clear sarcasm. “The English word for ‘stand and be killed if we say so.’ ”

She eyed him askance. “Isn’t that what all soldiers do?”

“Soldiers fight. But when there’s no way to fight and your commanding officer—” He cursed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I could try,” she pointed out.

He sat back and changed the subject. “So that’s what they taught you at yer fancy school, is it?” He flicked a hand to indicate her makeshift plate. “How to eat a sandwich like an English lady?”

With a sigh, she picked up a piece of sandwich. “Among other things.”

“Like what?”

“How to sing,” she said pointedly. “How to address one’s betters, how to walk, how to speak French—”

“How to catch a husband.”

She arched one eyebrow. “How to catch the
right
husband. Mrs. Harris was determined that we learn to distinguish a scoundrel from a gentleman.” Her voice turned bitter. “Though apparently I didn’t learn that lesson very well.”

He stared at her, something almost like guilt crossing his features. When she grew uncomfortable and broke the glance, he returned to hunting through the knapsack. As she finished her sandwich, he set an apple atop her improvised plate.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
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 toScotland . 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 toLondon 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

T
hree hours passed, during whichLachlan 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.

Lachlanlet 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.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
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 herHighland 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 theHighlands .

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 toLondon ways she’d become, how used to living high and free off her father’s ill-gotten money. These days only the very rich ofScotland , 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 fianc?e 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?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

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

“A clanswoman learns early on not to pay such things any mind. Many aHighland 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 toScotland 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
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
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 staredVenetia 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.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html