One Hot Scot (2 page)

Duncan Lenox waited, his hand outstretched. If this woman had been out riding with friends and lost her way, he was a French poodle, but whatever lies she told, one thing was obvious—she was alone and in distress.

“You’re—do you always go about naked, Mr. Lenox?” she asked, glancing from his hand to his face, her brown eyes wary.

“I needed a bath. I didnae expect to have a guest here.” He lowered his hand again. “Are ye going to join me inside, or nae?”

“No. I feel more … It wouldn’t be proper for me to be alone with a man inside his shack.”

It wasn’t precisely proper for him, either, but she didn’t hear him complaining, did she? “Suit yerself, then.” Hiding his amusement at her stunned expression, he walked into the shack and closed the door behind him.

He damned well couldn’t rescue someone who didn’t wish to be rescued. And he wasn’t sending anyone on to Lenox House who could possibly bring trouble with her. And this woman was trouble. He could practically smell it in the air. Half-naked Highlander though he might be, he knew the rules of propriety. He had the feeling he was about to discover just how remote this valley was and just how far Society could reach.

Of course she could be some married lady off on an odd adventure. That would save him one set of problems but introduce a whole other one—namely, her husband and what that fellow would do if he discovered them sharing a rabbit stew in a tiny cotter’s shack. He preferred to avoid
any
trouble, but that didn’t seem likely today.

Above all that, he couldn’t escape the sensation that he’d wandered into some faerie’s trap. When he’d surfaced in the loch to see a lovely sprite wrapped in his clan colors, her auburn hair touched by the breeze and her brown eyes facing the setting sun, for a bare second he’d thought … Well, he wasn’t certain what he’d thought, but it hadn’t made any sense.

He did know what his body had thought, and it had taken a moment to let the cold water put everything back in place again. She’d have run for certain if she’d seen that bit leading the way. With a glance at the still-closed door he pulled on an old linen shirt, then walked over to throw another piece of wood on the fire and pull off the kettle to make himself a cup of tea. That done, he set the stew back over the fire; if that scent didn’t tempt her to come inside, nothing would.

She seemed to think him part of the Fersen clan—or at least she had at first—and that idea had made her nervous. If she was tangled up with Bellamy, that made
him
nervous. But still, she clearly didn’t belong here in the Highlands, and if she was desperate enough to follow a nearly naked man to his doorstep, he couldn’t abandon her. Not even if leaving her standing there like Boadicea in the heather might have been the wiser decision.

All he’d wanted was to stop a few beasts from killing his calves, for the devil’s sake, and perhaps to do a bit of fishing. To be certain he’d never caught a Sasannach woman in Loch Shinaig before. Duncan glanced toward the door again. Perhaps she’d gone, after all. That would take care of a substantial number of troubles. And all he would have to do was not go looking for her.

The door rattled and opened. “You would truly have left me out there in the dark and the rain, wouldn’t you?”

So, the more difficult route, it was. He should have been dismayed and annoyed, but Duncan found himself smiling as he pulled down another tea cup and set it on the plank table. “I had a hunch ye’d come inside if ye wanted to. I wasnae going to drag ye in. Have a seat.”

Instead of doing that, she spent a moment looking around the small shack. A bed in the corner up against the side of the fireplace, the table, three chairs, two cupboards, and the corner by the door piled with gear for stripping and stretching deer hides during hunting season. Two windows, one looking north and the other west, were shuttered against the weather, and the single door stood opposite the hearth. There was nothing else inside except for a few bits and bobs that former residents had left behind and no one had bothered to dispose of.

“This is … small,” she said. “If you own Lenox House, what are you doing out here?”

“We’ve had some wolves chasing after our cattle. I’ve been tracking after them.” And he’d wanted a few days of quiet, but until he knew who she was and what she was doing in the Highlands, the details of his life at Lenox House could wait.

“You aren’t bamming me, are you?” she asked, worry crossing her features. “I read that there are no wolves left in Scotland.”

“Aye, I’ve heard that, as well. Old MacQueen of Findhorn claimed he killed the last of ’em near seventy-five years ago. Call them feral dogs if ye like, then, but someaught’s killing my cattle, and it isnae rabbits. I’m keener on stopping it than on naming the beasts that’re doing it.”

She took a breath, offering him a small nod. “So you truly are Duncan Lenox? And you’re only here to protect your cattle?”

“Aye. And this is my land. I’m here after wolves or dogs or rabid rabbits, and I’ll nae harm ye, lass.” Whatever had her so skittish, he could only reassure her with the truth. He sat in one of the chairs pulled up to the table. “But that’s all ye’ll get from me until ye tell me someaught aboot yerself.”

He poured himself some more tea, which he decided was the most nonthreatening thing he could do. But he didn’t need to be looking at his guest to know she still hesitated. Whatever had happened to bring her here likely wasn’t pleasant. Finally, she sat in the chair across from him. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t come across you, then. I’m quite … lost, really. So thank you.”

“Ye’re welcome.” Duncan nudged the pot of tea in her direction. “That’s nae much information, though. I’ll start for ye, shall I? Ye’ve a fear of the Fersens. Bellamy in particular. I’ve a keen suspicion ye were nae oot riding with friends. Nae in that dress. In fact, I think the only truth ye’ve spoken is that ye’re lost.”

Pretty brown eyes, almost black in the dimmer light of the shack, widened. “You’re … more observant than I realized,” she said after a moment.

“Ye mean I’m less stupid than ye hoped. Do ye care to tell me what’s happened to ye then, lass?”

“I’m afraid I don’t trust you enough for that, Mr. Lenox.” Her hand shaking a little, she poured herself a cup of tea and dumped two lumps of sugar into the brew.

Wealthy, then, though he’d thought so from both her gown and her manner of speech. A poor lass would have been excited to see the sugar and used too much. This one used it without even thinking about it. “Call me Duncan,” he said, and reached down to pull the knife from his boot. Before she could do more than gasp, he set it down on the table and pushed it toward her, hilt first. “Does that help yer trust?”

She ran her finger across the flat, carved hilt of whalebone then pulled it into onto her lap. “Prentiss,” she supplied with a hesitation so slight he almost didn’t notice it. The way she kept her gaze directly on his face the entire time didn’t help his concentration, either. “Julia Prentiss.”

The name meant nothing to him. He didn’t spend much time reading the London newspapers, though, and even less perusing the Society pages, so she might have been the Prince Regent’s cousin and he’d never have known it. “Well, Miss Prentiss, would ye care for some rabbit stew?”

“I am a bit hungry,” she conceded. “You do your own cooking?”

“Here, I do. At Lenox House I have a cook. Mrs. MacDavitt,” he replied. “But I’ve yet to poison myself.”

“It’s just you at Lenox House, then? No … wife or family?”

“I answered yer question,” he countered, rising to find two bowls and ladle a generous serving of stew into each of them. “Ye tell me someaught aboot yerself.”

“I didn’t agree to this game.”

Water began tap-tapping at the windows. “Fine. I’m accustomed to solitude here, anyway.” Handing over a bowl, he seated himself again and dug into his supper.

A moment later she picked up her spoon and began eating. She had long, delicate fingers, he noticed, pretty, well-manicured hands despite the dirt currently under the nails. A proper lady’s hands. So what the devil was she doing alone in the middle of the Highlands? He could order her to talk, he supposed, but handing her a fright wouldn’t help either of them. No, she wanted to feel safe. And so he would be patient. To a point.

For several minutes they ate in relative silence while the storm came closer, the rain heavier and the thunder approaching like a giant’s footfalls. “If I needed to send a letter to Aberdeen, could you assist me with that?” she finally asked.

Duncan kept eating.

“I asked you a question, Mr. Lenox.”

“Duncan,” he corrected, and shoveled in another mouthful.

She gave an annoyed-sounding sigh. “Could you help me get a letter to Aberdeen, Duncan?”

Pushing back in his chair, he reached for a bowl of salt and then scooted up to the table again. “This isnae a soft summer shower,” he observed. “A good thing ye’re here tonight and nae ootside.”

Miss Prentiss set down her spoon, none-too-gently. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Ye didnae answer mine. I told ye the rules. Ye’re the one didnae wish to abide by them.”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “And I told you that I’m not playing.”

He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips. “Then I suppose we’re at an impasse, Miss Prentiss.”

CHAPTER TWO

Duncan Lenox was quite possibly the most stubborn man alive. Surely any true gentleman would immediately offer aid to a young lady as completely alone as she was. And yet there he sat, devouring his third bowl of rabbit stew and eyeing her with a damnable twinkle in his eye, as if he had nothing better to do than aggravate her.

Perhaps he didn’t have anything better to do, but she certainly did. Julia took a deliberate swallow of tea. “Mr. Lenox, I require your assistance. That should be all you—”

“Duncan,” he interrupted.

“Duncan, then, for heaven’s sake. I need to get word to Aberdeen, as soon as possible.”

“And I can see that ye do so, once we get to Lenox House. After the storm passes.”

“I’m willing to get wet in order to reach civilization.” In her world, civilization meant safety—or at least a place where people knew the rules and minded them.

He snorted. “‘Civilization’,” he repeated. “At Lenox House? Ye definitely arenae from around here.”

“Which means I have even more urgency to get word to Aberdeen.” For God’s sake, if he’d realized she hadn’t been out riding, that she had nowhere else to go, that she wasn’t dressed for the Highlands, why didn’t he also see that she needed his assistance?

Duncan eyed her, light green eyes speculative. “Have ye ever played a game called ‘questions’?” he asked.

“The children’s game where someone thinks of a thing and the others guess what it is? Yes, of course. But I’m not playing it with you if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I’ll just guess some things anyway, and if ye like, ye can tell me if I’m correct or nae.”

“I’m not playing,” she repeated, turning her gaze back to her rather delicious stew.

“Ye were in Aberdeen to meet yer future husband,” he said anyway.

“No.”

“Ye were in Aberdeen,” he amended, “on holiday.”

“You’re wasting time. If you want to be rid of me, it’s as simple as escorting me to Lenox House, giving me a pen and some paper, and sending out my message.”

“Ye were at a soiree,” he went on, clearly intending to ignore her interruption. “A fancy one, with dancing. I can tell that because ye’re nae wearing riding boots or walking shoes.”

“Hurray for you, Mr. M– Duncan.”

“Ye met Lord Bellamy at this party. Ye thought him a handsome lad, and so ye went off to kiss him, and then he promised ye a fine life if only ye’d come away with him to Bellamy Park, and ye—”

“I did no such thing!”
Of all the nerve
. “Stop talking, will you?”

Abruptly he sat forward, all trace of humor gone from his eyes. “Very well, lass. Since ye willnae give me yer circumstances, I’ll give ye mine. I’m allied with the MacLawrys. Most of them—the clan chief and his family—arenae here at the moment. My property edges onto Fersen land. We dunnae like each other, the Fersens and me. I stay oot of all the clan politics and rivalries as best I can, though, because Glengask and my nearest kinfolk are aboot seven miles away. And because I have nae brothers or cousins or uncles beneath my roof to take a stand with me. I
do
have beneath my roof three younger sisters and a grandmother I’ll nae allowed to be harmed or bartered for anyone’s favor.” He leaned closer still, pinning her with his direct, forest-tinted gaze. “So now I’ll ask ye again, Julia Prentiss. What sort of trouble are ye bringing to my door?”

Oh, dear
. She should have kept walking. She should have kept a tighter hold of her horse and kept riding to … wherever it was she’d been heading. And she should have asked for a new hat for Christmas. Then none of this would be happening. “I didn’t mean to bring you trouble,” she said quietly, the quaking that had been unsettling her insides for the past hours and days finally pushing her toward tears. “It found me. And maybe it was my own stupid fault, but—”

He reached out, grabbing her hand. The spoon she held clattered to the tabletop. “What happened?” he repeated, his voice quieter.

She had to tell him. However reluctant a hero he might be, her need for assistance remained. And she simply wasn’t daft enough to go out into the storm in the middle of the night and hope for a more enthusiastic rescue. “I was in Aberdeen,” she conceded, “with my mother and my sister. We were there for my aunt’s wedding. We weren’t going to attend, because it’s the Season in London and because it’s so far from home, but I told my parents that all I wanted for Christmas was a holiday in Scotland. I very much enjoy the writings of Walter Scott.” She blinked, realizing she was blabbering.

His expression, though, didn’t alter. “And?” he prompted, still holding her hand.

After what she’d been through, his grip should have dismayed or frightened her, but it didn’t. His fingers were gentle, and she knew she could pull away if she chose to do so. A comforting touch … Perhaps she was being a ninny, but it was welcome.