Never Tempt a Scot Page 15

  “Alan, where is Lennox and the maid?”

  “With Miss Hunt, sir. She was in a bad way, all shaky and sort of laughing, like she’d gone mad.”

  Brodie sighed and dragged a hand down his face. He supposed he’d been facing the same thing, though in a different way.

  “Do you need anything, sir?” Alan looked politely at Brodie’s bloody attire.

  “Aye, clean clothes.”

  “Of course, sir. Let me show you to your room.”

  Brodie followed the valet upstairs. “Has Lennox sent for a doctor yet?”

  “Yes, sir. Apparently there’s one not too far from here.”

  “Good.” Brodie began to strip out of his clothes, while Alan unpacked a fresh set of stockings, trousers, shirt, and waistcoat for him.

  Once undressed, he asked Alan which room Lydia had been taken to.

  “She’s next door on the right. There were plenty of rooms, so Mr. Lennox chose separate rooms for you, him, and Miss Hunt. Fanny will stay with her.”

  Brodie didn’t like the idea of staying a full day and night, in case those highwaymen had friends, but Lydia was in no condition to travel today. Besides, he would need a doctor to assess her injuries.

  He stepped into the hall and knocked on Lydia’s door. Rafe opened it and sighed. “There you are, I’ve been wondering if you ran off.”

  He stepped back to allow Brodie to enter.

  “How is she?” he asked in a quiet tone.

  Rafe nodded toward Lydia, who lay curled up on one of the two beds in the room, covered in blankets. “Better now.” Fanny was watching her eat a bowl of stew.

  Rafe and Brodie moved to the opposite corner of the room, so as not to be overheard by the women. “What happened to her?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Brodie admitted. “I found their camp just before dawn, but I canna tell what they did to her before I arrived.”

  “And the men?”

  “Dead. There were three men. Two were sleeping, but Lydia and one man were in the woods. I shot one. Your pistol is in my room. And I used a blade on the other two.” He wondered if Rafe would judge him for killing the men.

  “I’m glad you killed them,” Rafe said. “If I’d been there, I certainly would have.” He glanced toward the bed. “We’ll likely know more when the doctor arrives. She’s been asking for you, by the way,” Rafe added.

  Brodie stole another glance toward Lydia. “She has?”

  “Yes, I don’t think she wanted you out of her sight.” Rafe’s easy smile was softer than usual. The rakehell normally didn’t show his gentle side, but it was quite visible now.

  “I thought she wouldna want to see me again after I killed those men in front of her.”

  “I don’t think she’s worried about that, old boy. She’s worried about you. She said you were hurt.”

  “Only a scratch. I barely even bled. But she caught a knife to her arm, and she didn’t scream or cry. The lass is both bonnie and brave.”

  Lydia had finished the bowl of soup and was now speaking quietly to Fanny. She still looked pale, but her expressions were animated.

  “Why don’t you go over to her, Kincade? I’ll watch for the doctor’s arrival downstairs.” Rafe patted Brodie’s shoulder as he left.

  Brodie drew in a deep breath and walked over to the bed. Fanny turned at his approach. “You may sit if you wish to stay, or you may tend to anything you need to,” he told her.

  “Thank you, sir.” Fanny looked to Lydia. “Do you need anything, miss?”

  “Not for now. Thank you, Fanny.”

  The maid excused herself and left them alone.

  Brodie sat down beside her on the bed. “Rafe has sent for a doctor.”

  Lydia reached across the blankets, her fingers brushing against his. He turned his palm over, inviting her to touch him. It felt good to have her caress him, even in the smallest ways.

  “Lydia, I hope . . .” He choked down his fear and continued. “I hope you can forgive me for killing those men. I shouldna have done that.”

  She continued to move her fingertips over his palm in soothing patterns as her lovely blue eyes fixed on him.

  “You were trying to rescue me. They would have killed you, Brodie. I don’t need to forgive you. I only hope you can forgive me for putting you in such a position. You came for me. You didn’t have to.”

  The brave, bonnie lass.

  “The men who took you brought their fates upon themselves, lass. You have no blame for that.” His gaze drifted down to her arm. “Does it hurt much?”

  She blinked, as if he had broken some spell. “Does what hurt?”

  “Your arm.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “Not too much. Mr. Lennox gave me a stout glass of brandy.” The sight of her smile fairly stole his breath. “And I do mean stout.” She opened her other hand to indicate the size of the glass, and he couldn’t resist chuckling.

  “Rafe’s answer to everything is a good drink.”

  “I think he’s quite right in this case.” Lydia lay back and winced.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I think I have some twigs in my hair from sleeping on the ground last night.” She brushed at it with her good arm a little. “Brodie, could you . . . ? That is to say, would you mind very much if I asked you to comb my hair out? I meant to have Fanny do it, but I forgot.”

  Brodie had never been asked by a woman to brush her hair before, and if any other woman had made the request, he would have thrown back his head and laughed. But for Lydia? At that moment, he would’ve done anything she asked.

  “Aye. Where’s your brush?” He looked around the room until he found her luggage.

  “In the smaller valise.” She pointed to the case next to the large trunk.

  He dug through the contents until he found the hairbrush and a mother-of-pearl-handle comb. He held them both up to her, utterly baffled as to where to start.

  “The comb first, and go gently, please. I suspect it’s in quite a mess.” Lydia sat up and turned her back to him. She searched for pins, removing them before he started. Brodie carefully began to use the comb to thread the tangles loose. He did find a surprising number of twigs and bits of leaves in the silken strands.

  “Lass, I think you hid half the forest in your hair.” He added another twig to a growing pile on the table beside the bed.

  “It was a very bad night of sleep.”

  “I imagine it was. Cold ground, no blankets or pillows, no feather-tick mattress. Just hard, unforgiving earth,” he said.

  “It sounds like you’ve slept like that before.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and he was entranced by her profile. She was lovely beyond measure. Lovely in a way her sister would never be, and it was only partially to do with her looks.

  “My father used to be rough with me and my siblings. I spent many a night sleeping in the woods. If he couldna find me, he couldna hurt me.” It was one of the things he did often back then. Run away and hide from anything that could hurt him. His father’s abuse had made him a coward, and he would always hate his father for that.

  “Oh, that’s awful.” Lydia tried to turn around to face him. He gently urged her to stay still so he could brush more tangles out. Her hair was smoothing out into a glossy golden waterfall down her back.

  “The old man is dead. I no longer need to fear him,” he said quietly.

  Lydia did turn then. “That doesn’t mean that what he did to you didn’t leave a scar. Our hearts carry scars as much as our bodies.”

  She was wise for one so young, and he realized more than ever that he had ruined this good young woman’s life all because of his temper and his pride. Now she was giving him compassion when he least deserved it. His face heated, and when she noticed, her head tilted to the side as though she was puzzled by his reaction.

  “Lydia . . .” He started to speak, but the door opened and Rafe entered with a doctor behind him. Brodie wasn’t sure whether he was frustrated or glad for th
e interruption.

  “This is Dr. Jacobs.”

  “I was told this young lady is my patient?” The Scottish gentleman raised a pair of pince-nez to his nose and approached the bed.

  “Aye. This is Miss Lydia Hunt,” Brodie introduced her.

  “A pleasure, Miss Hunt.” The doctor made a short bow, and Lydia thanked him. “Though I do hate to meet lovely young ladies under such circumstances. Gentlemen, you may go, unless the lady wishes for you to stay. But I urge you to leave, in case I must make delicate inquiries.”

  Brodie and Rafe stepped into the corridor, where Fanny was already waiting. She was nervously twining her fingers in her apron and watching their faces for news.

  “Fanny, would you go and keep the lass company?” he asked the maid. “I dinna want her to be alone.”

  “Of course, sir.” The maid rushed inside and closed the door. Brodie wanted to be in that room with her, but if he learned of any other injuries that he hadn’t noticed, it might bloody well kill him.

  “I think you’re the one in need of a brandy now.” Rafe nodded his head to a door across the hall.

  “I certainly am.” Brodie followed his friend, but his mind and thoughts were still with Lydia.

  13

  Lydia held still while Dr. Jacobs unwound the bandage from her arm. He made a face as he saw the thick, clotted blood in the oozing wound.

  Fanny put a hand to her lips. “Heavens.”

  “Heavens indeed,” the doctor said as he began to dab a cloth soaked in alcohol around the wound. Lydia hissed as the alcohol stung.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Miss Hunt, I’m afraid I must inquire about the nature of these injuries and how you came by them.”

  As Lydia told him the story of her abduction, the doctor nodded.

  “We’ve had trouble recently with a pack of brigands in the area. They search for travelers, especially English ones, who they believe are easy prey.” The doctor re-bandaged her wound and cinched it tight. “You must change this bandage daily. Clean it with alcohol. I didn’t stitch you up, but if the wound doesn’t begin healing by the time you reach Edinburgh, have a doctor do it there. You’re lucky the blade was sharp and the cut was shallow and clean.” He carefully examined her face in the light. “Did those men hit you as well?”

  “Yes, only once.” She touched her still tender cheek.

  “Did they injure you anywhere else? I know the subject may seem impolite, but you must tell me if they forced themselves upon you.” He paused before speaking in an even more gentle tone. “Sexual violation can do great damage to one’s body and one’s mind.” The doctor’s words made Lydia want to cry for some reason.

  “No, they did not. I was fortunate.” She wiped away tears. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually so silly.”

  The doctor patted her hands. “There is nothing silly about being upset and scared. You have been through a terrible ordeal. Many ladies would be understandably upset, as would many men. Let your maid take good care of you. No heroics, eh? I know ladies hide their hurts far better than men.” He chuckled. “You may be the fairer sex, but you’re also far braver when it comes to managing pain.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Lydia managed a smile for him.

  “No traveling today. I’ll tell the gentleman you are traveling with that you’d better rest until tomorrow.” He collected his tools and tucked them back into his worn black leather bag before he left the room.

  “What can I do, my lady?” Fanny asked. “Would you like a hot bath?”

  “A hot bath would be nice. I feel dirty.” Dirty all over. She hadn’t been truly hurt by those men, not in the way the doctor meant, but she still felt damaged in some way, and she needed to scrub her skin until she was pink from it.

  “I’ll have a bath made ready, then.” Fanny moved the changing screen to cover the copper tub in the corner of the room and left to have water brought up.

  Lydia had only just settled back into the bed when Brodie entered.

  “I’ve spoken to Dr. Jacobs. He told me you need to rest today.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you had plans to arrive in Scotland sooner.”

  He waved a hand. “’Tis no matter.” He paced the room slowly, every now and then his gaze turning back to her on the bed. “Fanny says you wish to bathe.”

  “Yes.” Lydia wondered what was bothering him.

  “Good. A bath would be good for you.”

  Fanny soon returned and supervised two lads bringing in buckets of steaming water. When they were done, Brodie gently but firmly pushed the maid out the door.

  “Thank you, Fanny. I shall help her.”

  “Oh, Brodie, really, you mustn’t,” Lydia sighed.

  “Why not? I put you in this mess, lass. Have you forgotten?” He came over and helped her out of the bed. She could walk—at least she thought so—but her legs suddenly gave way, and she crumpled in his arms.

  “Why can’t I walk?” she asked in a frightened whisper.

  “It is a surge of blood. It can take a while to happen. You feel fear and you escape, and then when you are safe, the fear catches up to your body and you are weak for some time.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the day my father gave me those scars on my back, I ran away from home. I managed nearly two hours before I stopped running. When I realized I was safe, I collapsed. My legs couldn’t hold me up. Every part of me was shaking like an autumn leaf. One stiff breeze could have plucked me from the branch and carried me away.”

  He spoke softly about such a violent pain from his past as he walked her to the tub behind the screen. Before she could protest, he removed the chemise from her body and set her down in the tub as though she were a child. He knelt down beside her; his eyes were fixed on her face as he helped her bathe. She scrubbed vigorously until her skin reddened. Brodie caught her hand that held the bathing cloth and stopped her.

  “You can’t wash away bad memories,” he said.

  “I know,” she murmured.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She hesitated but then did as he asked.

  “Picture those men, see them on the ground. Now see them vanish. See the clearing vanish, but the land remains. Imagine rolling green hills and diamond-bright skies. Wee sheep bouncing over the grass, a frisky collie chasing them, birds singing in the woods . . .”

  She saw all of it. It was like that moment this morning when she’d seen Brodie emerge from the mist into the brigands’ camp, just like he had said before when he’d spoken of the deer in the Highlands. He was a child of the mist, vanishing and appearing as he wished, only this time he’d emerged from the fog to save her. And that was truly all she’d ever wish to see again of this morning’s events. Brodie Kincade, coming to save her like an ancient warrior.

  Oh heavens. Was she falling in love with him?

  “Feel better, lass?” His hand cupped her chin, and she opened her eyes. She was lost. There was no other word for it. A knot rose in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She merely implored him with her eyes to give her what she needed most in that moment. Him.

  He leaned in over the tub, his fingers tickling her throat as he touched her. Her body hummed, and soon the hum turned to a passionate throb of need that she’d never experienced before in her life.

  “Yes . . .”

  “Yes?” He seemed confused.

  “I feel better when you touch me. Please don’t stop.” She slowly rose from the bath, and he moved at the same time, reaching for a long cloth to wrap around her. She stepped from the copper tub and into his arms. He pulled her to him, almost roughly, but he seemed to catch himself, and his hands gentled.

  “I’m sorry, lass, I dinna mean to be rough like this. ’Tis just that I want you so much.” His face turned a little red, and he pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

  “I want you too,” she admitted. “So much it hurts.”

  He exhaled a shaky breath. “I shouldna take y
ou, lass. I’ve done nothing but put you in danger and hold you against your will. You canna want me or this . . . not now.”

  “Shouldn’t I decide that?” she challenged in a whisper. “You haven’t been a gentleman, and now is certainly not the time to start. You promised me wicked things,” she reminded him. His gray-blue eyes darkened with passion, and she was lost all over again to this devastating man.

  “I did promise that.” His lips curved in the slow smile that undid her.

  “Then you had best deliver it, Scot,” she teased. “I’m here . . . I’m willing and begging you.”

  “Never tempt a Scot, lass,” he warned. His eyes glowed like diamonds submerged in dark pools.

  “Oh?” She slowly pulled the cloth away from her body, and he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down upon it with surprising tenderness, and she did her best to resist the urge to cover her body. She had never been fully naked with a man before. She’d never been anything with a man before, and this was exciting and frightening.

  Brodie swept his gaze over her body, bold and unapologetic. “You are more bonnie than I could’ve dreamed of, lass.” He stared at her for a long moment, and her heart raced as he began to undress. She took pleasure as he bared his body to her, for her. His strong arms flexed as he stripped down to nothing but his bare skin. Then he came toward her again.

  Lydia swallowed nervously. How could he seem bigger when he was naked? Surely it couldn’t be possible, yet it was. He crawled onto the bed toward her and caged her beneath him. She melted in pleasure as he kissed her, long, slow, and deliciously open-mouthed. She adored the way he kissed, like he was hoping to get slapped for it. It was wicked, just as he was, and she couldn’t get enough.

  She raised one of her hands to his chest, wanting desperately to touch him. He didn’t stop her. His skin was warm, and his muscles moved beneath her palms as he shifted his weight and settled on top of her. She parted her legs to allow him to settle into the cradle of her thighs. It was the oddest sensation to both want him inside her and to be afraid of it, but Brodie seemed to be in no hurry. He continued to kiss her leisurely, nibbling on her lips until she almost giggled. Somehow in that moment as they kissed and before he claimed her fully, a delicate invisible thread was spun between them by some ancient cosmic weaver.