One Hot Scot (3 page)

“After the wedding my aunt’s husband’s parents held a large party. Lord Bellamy and a great many other peers were there. I knew Lord Bellamy from London, and so when he asked me to dance, I agreed. He was always very pleasant and even if he had something of a reputation for being a fortune hunter, he seemed … harmless enough.” She frowned. “I didn’t even think about that. It was simply nice to see someone I knew.”

Julia cleared her throat. Whatever stupidity had gotten her here, it was far too late to do anything about that. Now she needed to get out of this situation. “We danced, and he said how pleasant it was to see me there and wasn’t the weather lovely. Then he stumbled, and said he felt light-headed. I—stupid thing that I am—I helped him out to the balcony. The next thing I knew someone had put a cloth over my face. I awoke in a carriage with my hands and feet bound, and Bellamy sitting across from me asking just how much money I would be worth upon my marriage.”

Duncan muttered something beneath his breath. She couldn’t quite make it out, and she wasn’t even certain it had been in English, but it sounded rather deadly. His hand tugged her closer, and then he pushed her sleeve up a bit. After three days of being unbound the bruises and scratches had begun to fade, but they were still there. “Did he hurt ye?” he asked, very quietly.

“No. When we arrived at Bellamy Park, he untied me, showed me to a very nice room, and told me that I was now utterly ruined and that he’d left behind a note saying we’d eloped. He would give me a day or two to decide to behave, and then he would have us married.” She gave a bitter chuckle. “Evidently he didn’t want an unwilling bride at the church. Just one who’d realized that she had no alternative if she ever wanted to show her face in public again.”

“Bastard.”

Julia slammed her free fist against the table. “And it would have worked, because I flirted with him, and people saw it. And because I put my arm around him while we walked to the balcony.”

“But ye’re nae married to him, I assume.”

She lifted her head again, meeting his gaze. “No, I am not. I decided I would rather be ruined than married to that man and allow him to get a penny of my money.”

“Well. Good fer ye, Julia. Ye showed a pound of spleen, running oot into the Highlands with nowhere to go and nae idea where ye were.”

“I don’t know whether it was spleen or idiocy, but at least it was
my
choice.”

“Aye. Nae a pleasant Christmas gift at all, though.”

“Not particularly.” So now he knew her story. She watched his face carefully, looking for any sign that he would help her, or put her out in the rain, or worse, see her as an opportunity for himself. After all, while she hadn’t said just how wealthy she was, she had told him that an aristocrat had been willing to kidnap her to claim her money. Unless he’d missed that bit—an act of providence about which she wasn’t willing to wager.

Abruptly he pushed to his feet. “Do ye play chess?” he asked, walking over to one of the cupboards and pulling open a door.

“What?”

“Chess. Do ye play it?” As she watched, he pulled down a wooden board and a small box and returned to the table.

“I … A little, I suppose. I haven’t played in years. Why are we going to play chess? I told you my story, and you said you would help me if I did.”

He grinned as he resumed his seat. “Well, we’re nae going anywhere tonight. We’ll head for Lenox Hoose in the morning, if the rain lets up, and then we’ll figure oot a plan.”

Duncan could tell from her expression that she would rather they came up with a plan tonight, but for the devil’s sake, he needed a moment or two to consider what she’d told him. Whatever dastardly thing Bellamy had done, the earl was not a man to be taken lightly. This was the sort of thing that began clan wars, one man taking in another’s woman—whether the woman in question had any wish to be where she was, or not. And of course beneath all of that logic, he very much wanted to hunt down Bellamy and put a hole or two through him.

She kept looking at him with those pretty brown eyes of hers. “What?” he finally asked, pausing as he set up the chessboard.

“We’re going to stay here tonight? The two of us?”

“Aye.” He grimaced. “I take yer meaning, lass. Ye’ve naught to fear. Ye can have the bed. I’ll be sitting up, just in case.”

“You mean in case Bellamy comes looking for me here.” Her expression didn’t alter; the thought had already occurred to her, then. “Just how likely is that to happen?”

“I’ve nae idea. There’s a great deal of land between Bellamy and here, but I reckon he’d prefer to look in more obvious places, because it’s easier. And because it’s storming outside.”

She nodded, and another lock of her auburn hair came down from the disheveled bun at her crown. “And a man who kidnaps a woman rather than actually attempting to woo her would prefer the easier way.”

“Precisely.” He liked that she had a logical bent to her thinking; most other lasses would either be in a fair way to panicking all over again or would have given up when they lost the horse. If they’d had the courage to run at all.

“What if he does come?”

Duncan drew a breath. What he wished to do wasn’t even close to being the wiser course of action, but he needed to use his brain rather than his fists. “Honestly, I’d prefer if I didnae have to fight him,” he said aloud. “When two men from … unfriendly clans get into a brawl here, it can have ramifications.”

“So you’ll simply hand me back to him?” She stood, her chair falling over backward behind her and the knife he’d given her in her right hand. “I won’t allow that!”

“Perhaps ye’ll let me finish what I was saying before ye stick me, Julia. If ye dunnae mind.”

“I wouldn’t stick you. I would stab
him
.”

He couldn’t help grinning at that. “I’m all reassured, then.” Moving slowly on the chance that she would forget what she’d just said and stab him anyway, he stood up and walked toward the bed. Taking the short footboard in his hands, he shoved the thing sideways.

Straw covered the floor there, as it did everywhere else. Brushing a bit of it aside, he found the indentation in the floor, dug his fingers into it, and lifted. “If he does come calling, ye’ll hide in here. I’ll nae suggest ye spend the night in here, though, because it’s a wee bit cramped. And dark.”

She walked up to where he crouched and bent forward to peer into the dark, wood-lined hole about the size of the bed that hid it. “Why do you have a priesthole in your floor?”

“My great-grandfather and most of his cotters were Jacobites. So I suppose it’s a Jacobite hole. If any Sasannach soldiers came ’round, most cotters had a place to hide bonny Prince Charlie’s followers, if need be.”

She nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder as she leaned closer. “Would Bellamy know about it?”

“I doubt it. The hole’s been there a hundred years, nearly. I’ve kept it repaired because … Well, because I’m a cautious lad, and I have sisters.” He could feel her chuckle through her hand. It sent an interesting warmth running beneath his skin. Sternly he pushed the sensation away. She was likely to be enough trouble without adding lust into the mix.

“Is the hole to hide you, or them?”

He dropped the wood cover back over, scattered the loose straw to show her how well hidden it lay, and pulled the bed back in place over it. “They know aboot it, so it wouldnae do me much good. I have been tempted though, on occasion.”

“How old are they? Your sisters, I mean,” she asked, following him back to the table.

“Sorcha’s sixteen, Bethia’s thirteen, and Keavy’s just nine. Sorcha turned into a banshee aboot a year ago, so I reckon I’ve got a year or two of sense left from Bethia, and hopefully half a decade from Keavy.”

When he finished setting up the chess pieces and looked up at his guest, the lass was smiling at him. “You’re very fond of them, aren’t you?” she said.

“They’re my sisters. I love them. They’ll have me mad as a hatter and white-haired as a winter rabbit, but they and Grandmama Maevis are my only family.”

“I think I was luckier today than I ever realized,” she said after a moment, her smile fading. “I am quite aware that I might just as easily have stumbled across another Hugh Fersen or his ilk. Thank you, Duncan Lenox.”

“Dunnae thank me til ye’re safe with yer family.” He realized he was staring at her mouth, and cleared his throat, shoving the board in her direction. “White or black?”

“Black,” she answered, turning the chessboard so the white-painted wood pieces were aligned in front of him and the black ones toward her.

He shifted a pawn out and sat back to watch her. What was he going to do with her? The easiest, safest thing for him and his sisters would be to return Julia Prentiss to Bellamy. A man with sisters would have to be damned to ever do such a thing, though. Just the idea of someone dragging off one of his bonny girls made him ill and angry. No, not angry. Blood-boilingly furious, more like. And surprising or not, it was an easy thing to muster the same emotion when he imagined this lass in Bellamy’s grasp.

The next best option would be for him to put her up on another horse and escort her back to Aberdeen immediately. That, though, would leave Lenox House vulnerable should Bellamy come looking for her—or for a substitute bride, if he was frustrated enough. Lord Glengask would have been a help, if he hadn’t been in London chasing after his younger sister. Bear MacLawry was a possibility, but Glengask’s youngest brother was as likely to start a fight with Bellamy as to resolve the situation.

No, having her send her letter asking for her kin to come and fetch her and keeping her hidden in the meantime was the only solution that made any sense. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was pretty as summer and brave to boot. It had nothing to with the fact that she was more than likely ruined, and that he wasn’t … content with the idea of sending so unexpected a female away. It was, quite simply, the correct thing to do.

“I believe it’s your move, Duncan,” she said, shaking him out of his thoughts.

That it was. He shifted another pawn, making a wall, and for a time they sat and played and talked about nothing more pressing than the weather and Scottish weddings. She could likely use the time to gather her own thoughts, and the devil knew he had some things to consider, as well. She was a piss-poor player, but he didn’t much mind that. When he played against Keavy, he made certain she won often enough to keep her from getting discouraged.

“Ye said ye were here with yer mother and sister,” he finally asked. “What of yer father?”

“He stayed in London for the Season. He’s … a viscount. Lord Prentiss. So he has to attend Parliament. And he said that while Scotland might be my idea of a gift, he would prefer a quiet household for a few weeks.” She looked from the chessboard to him. “What of your parents? You said you had a grandmother.”

“Aye. Grandmama Maevis. She’s my father’s mother. Both my parents died aboot seven years ago, when the fever came through one winter.”

“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry.”

Duncan shrugged, watching her fingers fiddle with a rook. “They went together, as they would have wished it. And I was already two-and-twenty, so the lasses had someone to look after ’em.” At the time he hadn’t been nearly as circumspect, but she didn’t need to know that. When she moved a pawn to block his knight, he countered with a bishop. “How old is yer sister?”

“Elizabeth? She’s sixteen. That’s the one thing I’m grateful for—that Bellamy snatched me rather than her. She’ll still be able to have her debut and dance and flirt, as any young lady wants to do.”

“But none of that’s left for ye? Ye’re what, nineteen? Hardly on the shelf, lass.”

“I’m one-and-twenty, and I’ve been missing for five days. And I was last seen in the unchaperoned company of an unmarried man. There was also the elopement letter he left on my behalf. We cannot forget that.” Her fingers curled around the rook as if she wanted to choke the life out of it.

He could hardly blame her for that. “But if ye yell to the world that ye were taken against yer will, willnae that make a difference?”

Julia grimaced, releasing the rook in favor of a knight. “Some, perhaps. I’m still marriageable because of my dowry. But I’ll be looked at askance and whispered about, and other ladies won’t invite me over for tea.” A tear ran down one cheek, and she brushed it away. “I can manage the gossip, as long as it doesn’t hurt Elizabeth.”

“Ye shouldnae have to manage it at all. None of this was yer doing, for St. Bridget’s sake.”

“That, Duncan, doesn’t really matter. Thank you for saying it, though.” She picked up a black knight and showed it to him. “Did you think this would be you today?”

He chuckled. “A black knight? Nae a white knight?”

She grinned back at him. “Well, you were naked.”

“Aye. That I was.” Meeting her gaze, he shifted another chess piece. In all honesty, he wasn’t certain which one it was or if the move was even legal.

The door behind him rattled, the entire wall shuddering beneath a hard fist.

Christ in heaven
. He jumped, and Julia sucked in a breath as though she thought it might be her last. “It’s barred,” he reminded her, scooping the chess pieces up and tossing them back into their box. Grabbing both them and the board he strode to the bed and pushed it aside, then lifted the trap door and tossed the game pieces into the hole. “In with ye,” he whispered, taking her fingers to help her down. They shook in his big paw, and he squeezed a little. He handed down her nearly empty bowl of stew and her teacup, then smiled encouragingly at her.

The sight of large brown eyes gazing up at him as he closed her into the darkness would stay with him forever, he thought, scattering straw and moving the bed back. As a louder, more insistent pounding began at the door, he shoved back the bedcovers, stripped out of his shirt, and dumped it into the chair Julia had occupied a moment ago. Then he pulled off one boot, ruffled his hair, and stomped to the door.

“Dooley, I told ye to…” He trailed off as Hugh Fersen, the Earl of Bellamy, glared at him. “Bellamy? What the devil are ye doing here?”