Caught by the Scot

  “Perhaps nae, but ’tis all you have.” He softened his voice. “Come. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She bit her lip. “You’ll keep this in confidence?”

  “Always.” He would never betray her—not if he were flogged and keelhauled within an inch of his life. The strength of his feelings surprised him, though they shouldn’t—as she’d pointed out, they’d known one another for a long time.

  “I . . . this whole thing is . . .” Emotion caught her, and she took a deep breath before she whispered, “I wonder if I know what I’m doing.”

  Conner fought the urge to sweep her into his arms, though it cost him sorely. She was like a fawn in the woods, and he knew better than to move too quickly or risk startling her and sending her fleeing. He had to proceed carefully, or the moment—and she—would be gone. Perhaps forever.

  The thought burned like acid and he had to clear his throat before he said in a careful tone, “How so?”

  She clutched her reticule tighter, as if afraid it might disappear. “This elopement, Lance—all of it! I was certain I knew what I was doing, that this was what I wanted, but . . .”

  “Now you’re nae certain?”

  “I suppose everyone has such moments before they wed. And Lance is a stalwart, trustworthy man—and more. He cares for me, or seems to, and that’s a good beginning. But then things went wrong with this journey—the carriage, the accident, and then you showed up . . . and now I wonder if I should be here at all?”

  Hope warmed Conner. “So my coming here made things worse?”

  “Of course, because I—” Her gaze locked with his as the words froze on her tongue.

  “Because why?”

  She shook her head, her thick lashes lowering to obscure her gaze.

  She’s not telling me something. “Come, Thea. How did my arrival make things worse? Is it because we kissed?”

  A deep flush rose to her cheeks, but she turned her gaze to her reticule, nervously sliding her fingers through the fringe. “The kiss wasn’t— I’m not— You don’t need—” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

  He moved closer and placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face to his. “Tell me, Thea. Please. Why did my coming here make things worse?”

  She met his gaze, and something flickered in her eyes. She looked— What? Before he could fathom it, she mumbled, “No. No,” shifting as if to move away.

  He couldn’t let her go. If he did, she’d leave, and this delicate moment would disappear like foam upon restless waves. Without another thought, Conner bent and captured her lips with his.

  For a long second, neither moved. A jolt of heat sizzled through Conner as he savored Thea’s warm, soft lips. He kissed her again with more urgency, slipping his hand about her waist.

  She shivered once, and then melted against him, her reticule dropping to the floor as she slid one arm around his neck and grasped his lapel with the other.

  He deepened the kiss, teasing her lips over and over until, with a moan, she parted them. Her sweetness tormented his senses, awakening every fiber of his being. He plundered her mouth, tasting her, his body afire with each new discovery.

  Why had he never thought to kiss her in all the years they’d known one another? So many wasted, wasted years. Her kisses were tantalizingly delicious and now she was kissing him back, her tongue brushing his, rousing a passion so blindingly hot that he could only react. She took every act of his and reflected it back, with a thousand times more passion and sensuality.

  With her hand pressed to his chest, she had to be aware of his thundering heart. Surprised at the strength of his own reaction, he pulled her closer, and kissed her with every iota of his being.

  To his delight she pressed back, her body molding to his, her mouth opening greedily, her tongue touching his—

  She broke the kiss with a gasp. Flushed, her lips damp from their kisses, breathing hard as if she’d been running, she backed away, shaking her head. “No! This is wrong! I swore I’d never do this again and I—I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Thea—” He stepped toward her, determined to get her back in his arms.

  “Stay where you are.”

  He did as she asked, although it went against every instinct he had. “Thea, please. That was—”

  “A mistake.” Her voice shook, as did her hand as she brushed her fingers over her lips, a stricken look in her eyes.

  Her reaction cooled his passion instantly. “Lass, please. I dinnae mean to oopset you. ’Twas just a kiss—”

  She stiffened. “Just a kiss?”

  “Aye. And a damned guid one, too.” His body was still afire, his brain muddled by the kisses, the softness of her lips, the look he thought he’d seen in her eyes— God, what had just happened? “Your kisses are as beguiling as the sea, unlike any I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a guidly bit of experience.”

  He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

  Displeasure flashed through her eyes. “Oh! So not only was it just a kiss, but now you’re bragging that you’ve kissed so many other women.”

  Good God, had he said that? She had him so muddled! “That’s nae what I meant.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve kissed dozens, perhaps hundreds of women. Haven’t you?”

  How did he answer that? If he said nae she wouldn’t believe him (and with reason), and if he agreed, he looked a loose-moraled fool. Best to proceed cautiously. He spread his hands wide. “I’ve kissed my fair share, but—”

  “Your fair share.” She looked disgusted with herself. “What was I thinking? I’m a fool.”

  “You’re nae such thing, and you know it. Lass, you’re making much oot of nothing. What’s important is what just happened; we’ve fire between us. Admit it.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter; I’m engaged. I made a commitment. That may not mean anything to you, but it does to me and I cannot—will not—allow this to happen again.”

  “You said you were having second thoughts,” he hurried to point out.

  Her face pinkened yet more. “I was a fool to admit that to you. But it’s only normal, I’m sure. And that—that kiss just confirmed it. Lance is the right man for me.”

  “Bloody hell!” Conner raked a hand through his hair. “Thea, that kiss dinnae prove a damn thing aboot you and Lance. ’Twas aboot you and me. And you have to admit ’twas worthwhile. To be honest, I dinnae expect you to be so guid, nae after the last time—” Her expression froze his tongue in place, and he could have kicked himself. Guid lord, that kiss has turned me into a bloody pumpkin.

  He threw up a hand before she could speak. “I worded that poorly. I just meant the first kiss—while excellent—was nae as guid as these last ones. You were a bit new then, but you’re a quick learner and—” He winced at the fury he saw in her eyes. “Och, I’m making a mess of this.” He shook his head helplessly. “You set me afire, lass. I dinnae expect that.”

  “You should stop talking.”

  He nodded, unable to disagree. Yet he couldn’t stop looking at her with a new awareness. Had her brown eyes always been so thickly lashed? Her mouth so beguiling? Her hair so silky soft that he longed to unpin it and sink his fingers in those golden brown strands?

  Her eyes flashed as if she’d like to strike him, yet all he could think about was how delectable she looked. “I vow, it’s as if I never knew you,” he said softly.

  She sent him a flatly irritated look. “You knew me; you just didn’t pay attention. I was like a—a piece of furniture. You never really looked at me, did you?”

  “I paid attention to you,” he protested, a little surprised by her vehemence.

  “Really?”

  How could any man answer such a disbelieving look? “Aye. And I’ve always been there when I knew you needed it. Did I nae come to you in Italy when your mother was so ill that you and Derrick thought her as good as gone? And what aboot the time Sergeant Tibbs died? As soon as D
errick told me what happened, I traveled three hours in the rain to come and help.”

  A flicker of sadness crossed her face. “He was the best cat ever.”

  “He was. And it was an honor to be the one to bury him for you.”

  “Under the yew tree in the garden.” A sad smile softened her expression. “You gave a lovely eulogy.”

  “He deserved one. He was a guid cat, even if he did bite.”

  Her lips quirked. “He never liked you.”

  “I liked him in spite of that,” Conner admitted grudgingly. “I’ve never seen a cat fetch before or since.”

  She started to reply, but caught herself and instead turned away, her shoulders sagging as she dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, Conner, what are you doing?”

  “I think you know.”

  “I do know. And it’s wrong.” She dropped her hands to her sides, facing him with grim clarity. “You must leave. Go, find this woman you were telling me about, and settle your inheritance.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll marry Lance. It’s what I’m meant to do. I’m certain of it now.”

  Dammit, how had they gotten to this? He’d thought she had changed her mind, but now she seemed firmer than ever in her resolution to marry the squire. “You have doubts about Lance.”

  “I did, but no more. I will not hurt him.” She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself, her eyes soft with regret. “If only you hadn’t come. Having you here is—difficult.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I wish you hadn’t found me. Lance is my future. I must embrace that fact.”

  “Your future? Then what am I?”

  “The past.”

  The words struck him like a ship’s bow, ramming straight through his heart. He looked at her mouth, still damp from his kiss, and he firmed his jaw. “Present or past, I’m here now. And it would be wrong if we dinnae discover why we react so strongly to one another.”

  “I will not hurt Lance. I cannot.”

  Dammit, she was so bloody stubborn. And if he kept pressing, it would only set her more firmly in her decision.

  Gritting his teeth, he threw up his hands. “Fine! If you’ll nae have me, then I’d best return to thinking of someone else.”

  Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Was there someone else? Or did you just say that to get me to lower my guard?”

  “Lass, as beautiful as you are, if you say nae, then nae it is.” He rubbed his neck, thinking quickly. “If you’ll nae have me, then I’ll go north to . . .” Bloody hell, who lived in the north? He only knew a few families in that direction with marriageable daughters and— Ah. “Wentlow Manor.”

  She blinked. “Wentlow? The Lambert family?”

  The Lamberts were friends of the Cumberbatch-Snowes, and during some of Conner’s visits he’d met the family—a son Derrick’s age and four daughters, all a bit younger than Thea, and quite pretty in a vapid sort of way. At the time Conner had thought them just a pack of gigglers, but they were well born, and not unpleasing. It was the best he could do, considering the circumstances. “Aye,” he repeated grimly, “the Lamberts.”

  “I see.” She pressed a hand to her stomach as if to still a sudden roil. “Which daughter will you court?”

  “Whichever will have me.”

  Thea gaped at him. “You don’t have a favorite?”

  He thought about it. “I suppose the tall one would be a guid choice. She dinnae talk as much as the others.”

  “That’s— I can’t even— Conner, that makes no sense. You’d pick a wife based on her lack of conversation?”

  “Why nae? If I cannae have you, I dinnae care who I wind oop with. But I dinnae wish to listen to idle chatter all day, so a woman who’ll nae talk would be best.”

  “Conner, no! You don’t know the Lamberts, any of them, not really.”

  “You are marrying someone you barely know.”

  She flushed. “I know Lance better than you know Letitia.” She rubbed her temples as if they ached. “I cannot believe this. You’re going to offer for Letty?”

  “Why nae? She always flirted with me—they all did.”

  “The Lamberts are known for that.”

  “So she’ll be guid at it, if she’s been practicing. And as her family is in need of financial assistance, they’ll welcome my suit.” Eagerly, which is why Conner had vowed to never cross the threshold of Wentlow Manor without a guard.

  But all Thea needed to know was that he had his sights set elsewhere, which should assuage some of her fears. “I’m sure this Letty and I will make a decent marriage, if nae the best. She seemed very biddable, which is guid, too.”

  Theodora felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, removing the last lingering bit of passion that had roared through her at Conner’s kisses. “I’m surprised you’ve singled out Letty. She may not chatter like her sisters, but you said the hair on her chin was unacceptable.”

  Conner frowned. “I dinnae remember any of them had hair on their chins.”

  “Letty did,” Theodora said firmly, wondering if she should feel remorse for telling lies about people she barely knew.

  He shrugged. “Then I will go for another one. The buxom one, what was her name?”

  “Lenora.”

  “I’ll court her, then.”

  “You used to call Lenora ‘Loud Lenora,’ I remember that, for I begged you not to do so within her hearing.”

  “Och, so I did. She talked as if her words were afire and she was trying to outrun them. That will nae do.” He grimaced and rubbed his neck. “Och, this is a pain. What aboot the short one?”

  “That’s Lydia.”

  “Lydia, then.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’d best remember her name, or I’ll end oop with the wrong one and find myself shackled to a chatterbox or worse.” His gaze dropped to Thea’s mouth. “I wonder how Lydia will kiss? Nae matter. If she does nae do it weel, then I’ll teach her.”

  A hot flash of jealousy sucked Theodora’s breath away. The strength of it shocked her, making her wonder how she’d ever thought she could easily purge him from her life. She should have been relieved that he was setting his sights elsewhere, but all she could muster was a brittle, “I hope you’ll be happy.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I will have kept the Douglas fortune from the Campbells. That will have to be satisfaction enough.”

  “Yes, but—” The sound of the coach rattling into the inn yard made her glance at the window. “There’s Lance.” She and Conner were out of time. She wished miserably that she knew what to say to turn him from his disastrous path, but she had no words. Nothing but a nauseous certainty that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

  Conner’s gaze swept over her with obvious regret. “That’s it, then. Good luck, Thea. I wish you the best.”

  She struggled to find words, but none would come. After an awkward moment, Conner bowed and—with a final lingering look—left, his steady footsteps fading as he walked down the hall and went outside.

  Theodora went to the window and watched as Conner greeted Lance and the new chaperone, a small woman so enveloped in an overly large pelisse and bonnet that it was impossible to make out her features.

  Theodora’s mind raced, her heart sick. What a coil! She’d expected to be happy and excited about her elopement, but all she could think about was Conner’s error in marrying one of the Lambert chits. And added were those tempting, forbidden kisses. Why didn’t she feel that same passion with Lance?

  But I haven’t kissed him. Perhaps that is why. Whatever the problem was, she had to figure it out soon, or there would be no turning back.

  Sighing heavily, she picked up her reticule from where she’d dropped it on the floor and made her way to the inn yard.

  10

  Lance brightened as Theodora joined him by the coach. “There you are!” He lowered his voice. “Miss Simmons seems charming.”

  Theodora’s new traveling companion stood b
y the coach talking to Conner, peering up at him with a mixture of awe and amazement. Dressed in a faded pelisse with a straw bonnet that framed her pretty face, the chaperone was much younger than Theodora had expected. Small and wren-like, with dark brown hair that curled about a heart-shaped face and soft blue-gray eyes, she wore a perpetually startled expression, as if she expected harshness from the world at large. “Miss Simmons appears quite young. She can’t be more than eighteen.”

  “She’s twenty-three, although I would not have credited it when I first saw her, either. She seems younger because of her mannerisms.” Lance watched Miss Simmons a moment, his expression softening into a smile as he confided, “She reminds me of my sisters, who’ve had such sheltered lives that they seem younger than their ages.”

  Theodora added drily, “Unlike me, who seems much older than my age because I’ve never been ‘sheltered.’ ”

  He flushed. “No, no! I never said—”

  “Oh, Lance!” She laughed, amused at his obvious alarm. “I was only teasing, although I’m sure I was never young for my age. With Papa dragging us from one end of the world to the other, and Mama always too ill to tend to things, I undertook a lot of responsibility at an early age. But I enjoyed it.”

  Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Meanwhile, the opposite seems to be true for Miss Simmons. She was thrust into the world before she was ready. From something she let fall when she introduced herself, I believe that while her brother would like her to remain with him, his new wife is determined that should not be the case.”

  “No! And that wretched woman has pushed the poor girl out of the house?”

  “The sister-in-law was almost gleeful when she discovered I’d come to fetch Miss Simmons. It was deuced awkward.”

  “Oh dear.” Aware that her own favorable circumstances were a matter of chance and birth, Theodora was always sympathetic to the plight of single women who’d been forced to find a position in order to make their way. There were so few respectable jobs available to women, and even fewer where they were not improperly importuned by their employers. “I was so dreading having a chaperone that I never thought if the position would be advantageous for the lady in question. I feel quite selfish.”