The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3)

The Care And Feeding Of Your Captive Earl

What Happens in Scotland

Kate McKinley

A Lady’s Rules of Etiquette When Kidnapping a Gentleman:

1. A lady must obtain a small vial of laudanum and a sturdy length of rope.

2. Once subdued, the gentleman should be bound securely.

3. At no point should the lady leave a sharp implement within the gentleman’s reach.

4. Should rule #3 be neglected, the lady must prepare for things to go dreadfully wrong.

5. In such a case, a lady must keep her countenance and under no circumstances should she submit to his charms and surrender her heart…

Miss Gwendolyn Wilbraham is far more skilled at needlework than she is at kidnapping. But when her best friend begs her to distract the new Earl of Hastings, she reluctantly agrees. Regrettably, the earl is just as clever as he is handsome and before long, he is free of his restraints and not at all pleased…

As one of London’s most notorious rogues, Matthias Hart often finds himself in curious situations. Though he has never woken up drugged, bound, and hidden away in a remote Scottish cottage. Normally, he would welcome such a diversion, but his beautiful captor is young, witty and all-too-innocent. When he finally frees himself, all he wants is revenge and her complete surrender…

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CHAPTER ONE

Scotland 1815

The first thing Gwendolyn Wilbraham became aware of was the piercing white sunlight streaming in through the window. Then the headache. Most
especially
the headache.

Groaning, she blinked open her eyes and attempted to sit up in the bed. Only, there was something preventing her. Glancing down, she saw a hand gripping her breast through the fabric of her dress. Following the length of the arm with her gaze, her eyes fell upon the man who held her so intimately.

Matthias Hart.

Oh, dear heavens.

He was sleeping on his side; half draped over her—fully clothed, thank goodness—his face nestled in her hair. She was trapped.

With a deep breath she attempted to slide out from under him, but that only seemed to rouse him.

“Mmmm,” he moaned, shifting his position to close the small gap she had created between their bodies.

Sweet heavenly Lord. How did she get herself into this?

She struggled to remember the events of the previous night. Much of it was hazy. They were in Gretna Green, she knew that much. She, Matthias, and her maid, Emily, had arrived midday, just in time to prevent her best friend, Evelyn, from marrying Stephen.

That night—last night—the entire party had retired to the inn’s taproom and ordered drinks. She remembered the first two toddies, but after that…nothing.

She glanced down at Matthias. Heaven only knew what they had done. But they were both clothed, so she resolved not to panic. Not directly, at least.

“Matthias,” she whispered harshly.

No response.

“Matthias,” she said again more loudly, shaking the arm that was stretched over her. “Wake up.”

Groaning, he rolled onto his back, away from her. She was free. So she did what any gently bred lady would do: she snatched the pillow out from under his head and whacked him in the face with it several times—hard and mercilessly.

He cursed under the onslaught, springing out of the bed. “Christ, Gwen! What the devil was that for?”

She dropped the pillow and glared. “Clearly you failed to notice where you are.”

He blinked at her.

“You are in
my
room!” she supplied. “With your hand on my”—she made circular motions in the vicinity of her breasts—“
intimate
area.”

He squinted and glanced around the room. “No, you are in
my
room. There is my trunk, right there by the door.”

She squinted as well, taking in the details of the trunk. The gold letters MH were clearly monogrammed on the front.
Drat.

“That is beside the point,” she said.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and titled his head back. He wore only his shirt—un-tucked and open at the collar—breeches and boots. She was not afraid to admit—to herself, at least—that he was more handsome than he had any right to be. He looked mussed and untamed. Utterly wild. And that did something strange to her.

Rubbing his temple, he sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened last night?”

She pushed out a breath. “I was relying on
you
to remember. After all, this would not be the
first
time you have awoken in a strange room with a lady.”

He turned and glared at her. “And you are an authority on my liaisons, are you?”

She scoffed at his contemptuous tone. “Your
numerous
conquests are quite legendary. Anyone who reads the gossip columns would be qualified to give a lengthy lecture on the subject.”

Every week, it seemed, the gossip rags reported on his various exploits. Last week, it was reported that he had catapulted himself out of Mrs. S—’s second-floor window to escape her rampaging husband.

The stories were
quite
ridiculous. But there was a grain of truth to it all, surely.

Standing, he tucked his shirt in, found his waistcoat and jacket and put them both on. Unshaved and without his starched cravat, he looked quite rough. Not at all like the refined gentleman he was in Town.

“Where are you going?”

“
We
are going to find the others,” he said, buttoning up his jacket. “Once I have conquered the business of transportation, we will set off for London directly. With a turn of fortune, we will be back in Town and I will be deep in my cups by tomorrow week.”

Yes, perhaps that was sensible. Gwen had not yet been within the boundaries of Scotland for a full day and already she was quite happy to leave it behind.

Gwen tidied herself as well as she could. Her lady’s maid had traveled with her to Scotland, but heaven only knew where she was this morning. In the room they were meant to share, perhaps? Doubtless she was beside herself with worry.

“I must find my maid.” She pursed her lips. “If only I could remember where my room is located.”

She had never seen it, in fact. Matthias had made the arrangements and Emily had seen to her luggage. But before Gwen could retire to her room, she had gotten utterly foxed—at least, that was what she surmised, given the evidence.

“It is next door,” he said. “Evelyn’s room is across the corridor.”

“Oh! Excellent. I will see to my maid while you see to the transport.”

Lips pressed together, he nodded once and they went their separate ways.

But Emily was not in their room as Gwen had hoped. Indeed, the bed looked untouched—and the trunks had not been unpacked. But if Emily wasn’t here, then where in heaven’s name was she?

Worry gnawed at Gwen as she quickly salvaged what was left of her hair and donned a shawl to shield her against the glacial Scottish air.

Matthias appeared in the open doorway. “We have a problem. We must find Evelyn at once.”

A
new
problem?

“What is it?” Gwen asked, but Matthias was already across the way, knocking on Evelyn’s door.

“Evelyn! Are you in there?”

As the seconds ticked by with no answer, Gwen’s anxiety grew. Why wasn’t she opening the door? Was she ill?

Then a voice hissed on the other side of the door, clearly audible. “It’s Matthias. Blast!”

“We can hear you cursing. Open the door, for goodness’ sake!” Gwen shouted, not caring if the entire inn heard their discourse.

“One moment!”

Matthias was not waiting. He tried the latch and pushed the door open easily. The sight that greeted them made Gwen gasp in shock.

Evelyn’s skirts were cast over her head as she straddled a handsome young gentleman. And what’s more, their legs were manacled together by a long chain. Shoving her skirts aside, Evelyn looked up at them both and smiled. “Oh, good morning,” she laughed. “Was that you at the door, Gwen?”

Gwen blinked several times, frozen in disbelief. What in the name of all that was good and holy had they walked in on?

Matthias sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good God, your brother will run me through with the first blunt object within reach. I’m standing here dead, as we speak.”

Evelyn stood, swatting at the dirt that clung to her skirts. “It isn’t what it looks like.”

Gwen looked at the manacle, then at the gentleman, then back at Gwen.

“All right, perhaps it’s precisely
what it looks like, but I can explain.” She placed her hands on her hips and seemed to struggle with the words. “We were…you see…” She huffed out a breath. “Never mind. Perhaps I
can’t
explain.”

The man manacled to Evelyn stood.

“Aren’t you the blacksmith?” Matthias asked.

Gwen looked at him a bit more closely—his tall frame, his strong features. He
was
the blacksmith!

“Aye.”

Matthias’s gaze fell to Evelyn. “Eve, what happened last night? The truth, if you will. I’d like to know if I should go searching for pistols and a second.”

“I don’t know what happened. We woke up like this, but I’m relatively certain
nothing
happened. Well, nothing of any real consequence, in any event. Except…It appears we’ve accidentally gotten married.”

It felt as though all the blood had drained from Gwen’s body. What in had Evelyn
done
? This was disastrous.

“Tell me you are joking,” Matthias said.

Evelyn took a piece of parchment from the blacksmith’s hand and handed it to Matthias. Gwendolyn rose on her tiptoes and glanced at the parchment over Matthias’s shoulder. It was a marriage certificate—with Evelyn’s signature clearly visible. “Good God, Evelyn, how can you
accidently
marry someone?”

“With great ease, it would seem. I suppose that’s the point of coming to Gretna Green in the first place. Marrying easily. Apparently strangers need only sign a document to be considered married in this country.”

But surely this could be remedied. “Well, what are you going to do? How does one even begin to dissolve an accidental marriage?”

“Dissolving the marriage isna an option,” the blacksmith said.

“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked. “Surely
something
can be done— perhaps petition for an annulment or some such formality.”

The blacksmith shook his head determinedly.

“You are telling me it’s hopeless? That I’m leg-shackled—
literally—
to a man I don’t even remember marrying?”

“That sounds about right,” he said.

“I’m afraid I have another bit of bad news.” Matthias ran his hand through his wavy blond hair. “It appears Stephen is missing. I’d let the cur rot, except we believe he may have Gwendolyn’s maid with him. The barkeep saw them…leave the taproom together last night.”

Oh, dear God, could things possibly get
any
worse? First, she’d woken up to Matthias offensively groping her person, then she’d found Evelyn married and manacled to a
complete
stranger, and now Evelyn’s fiancé (or was he now her
former
fiancé?) had absconded with Gwen’s maid.

Perfect. Just…
perfect
.

Evelyn looked a bit shaken. “Don’t assume the worst. Perhaps they’re together, but that doesn’t mean anything indecent has happened.” Then her suspicious gaze turned to Gwen and Matthias. “Where were you two last night?”

Gwen darted a glance at Matthias before looking away awkwardly.

“I don’t remember much from last night. I woke up in my room—
alone
, of course.” With her heart hammering against her ribs, she glanced down at the floor. “And when I awoke Emily was missing. Though, in truth, I suspect she never returned.”

“Well, we must find both her and Stephen. They could be injured for all we know.”

Matthias released a breath. “There was a tussle outside of the inn, and someone pulled out a pistol. The barkeep thought he saw a man of Stephen’s coloring and build confront him, and…”

Evelyn straightened.
“And?”

“And he was shot.”

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive. At least the last time I saw him. He took off after the surgeon saw to him,” Matthias said tightly.

Panic gripped Gwen. Was Emily injured as well? She could never forgive herself if something happened to her maid.

“And what of Emily?” Gwen asked. “Was she injured?”

Matthias shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t understand,” Evelyn said. “How is Emily involved in any of this?”

It was a fair question. Emily was not acquainted with Stephen—at least, Gwen didn’t
believe
she was. Though she considered herself a friend to Emily, as well as an employer, Emily spoke little of her personal life.

“It’s possible Emily may have tried to come to his aid and became unwittingly embroiled in the conflict. They were seen entering a carriage headed north, toward Glasgow.”

“Why would they flee to Glasgow, of all places?” Evelyn asked.

The blacksmith cleared his throat. “There’s a hospital there—the Royal Infirmary. If Stephen has been shot, then that’s where they’re headed. It’s the only place this side of Scotland that’s capable of treating an injury of that nature.”