Claiming His Defiant Miss. Bronwyn Scott

eyes blazing as she aimed a gun at his chest.

      Liam swung up on Charon and set off down the road. Presumably, he’d find her in town. It would be best for her if he did. He couldn’t scold her publicly there. That would have to wait until they were alone and, if she was lucky, his anger would have cooled into something more rational. But heaven help her if he overtook her on the road with his temper still seething.

      Liam pushed Charon into a fast canter, hoping his estimates were accurate and there was no way Cabot Roan could be in Scotland yet. By his calculations, he had approximately a two-week margin give or take a few days before the threat became real; five of those days were already spent in travel. He was banking on London. Roan would look for May there first, which would slow him down, but which would also ultimately reveal her location. Someone in London would know where she was. Despite what May believed, Roan was coming, it was just a matter of when. If his calculations were wrong, however, Roan and his men could be here any day.

      He wasn’t willing to chance it by letting May roam free and unprotected. It infuriated him she was willing to take that chance. She had blatantly chosen to ignore him just for spite. He knew very well why she’d done it; to prove to him she didn’t need him, had never needed him, that he hadn’t hurt her, that indeed, he had been nothing more than a speck of dust on her noble sleeve, easily brushed off and forgotten. But that wasn’t quite the truth. He had hurt her, just as she had hurt him. They were both realising the past wasn’t buried as deeply as either of them hoped.

      To get through the next few weeks or months they would have to confront that past and find a way to truly put it behind them if they had any chance of having an objective association. The task would not be an easy one. Their minds might wish it, but their bodies had other ideas. He’d seen the stunned response in her eyes yesterday when she’d recognised him, the leap of her pulse at her neck even as she demanded he take his hand off her. Not, perhaps, because he repulsed her, but because he didn’t.

      Goodness knew his body had reacted, too. His body hadn’t forgotten what it was to touch her, to feel her. Standing behind her in the yard, watching the doctor leave had been enlightening in that regard. He wasn’t immune. He hadn’t thought he was. He had known how difficult this assignment would be. His anger this morning at finding her gone proved it.

      Anger. Lust. Want. These emotions couldn’t last. A bodyguard, a man who did dirty things for the Crown, couldn’t afford feelings. Emotions would ruin him. Once he started to care, deeply and personally, it would all be over. He thought about the rules he’d attempted to put in place, definitely fragile and already under attack. He chastised himself for making basic, careless mistakes. He’d charged out of the stables, thinking only to get to May as soon as possible. He’d not taken time to consider the road where the land was hidden from view behind tall bushes or around corners or up an incline.

      If anyone had been lying in ambush, he would have been an easy target. The man on the passing wagon could have simply picked him off. If he was going to be successful, he had to treat May as he would any other assignment and that meant with a firm hand and objective detachment. She was a job, nothing more, not his past, not his future. Just his job.

      * * *

      The village was busy, considering today was not market day. Liam would have preferred it to be less so. People milled in and out of shops, or stopped to stand in front of a window and admire a display. Liam quartered all the busyness with his gaze, taking the street in section by section. He was familiar with it now, having travelled it to retrieve the doctor yesterday. His professional’s eye saw the alleys between buildings where someone might lurk undetected. He saw a heavy dray moving down the street slowly and obtrusively, blocking traffic. On purpose? his expert’s mind wondered and his pulse quickened, alert to trouble. Then he saw her.

      To the casual observer, she looked like any other countrywoman, dressed as she was in a forest-green wool, a blue-and-green plaid shawl wrapped about her, a basket on her arm, a bonnet on her head. It was remarkable, really, how well she blended in. Who would guess she was the daughter of Albermarle Worth, granddaughter to an earl on her father’s side? But Liam would never take her for just another pretty country miss. The way she walked was unmistakably May. May moved with purpose, with confidence, a step faster than other women.

      With grim determination, he strode stealthily through the crowd. At the corner, he made his move, coming up behind her, a strong hand about her waist, trapping her against him, his grip steering her into the dim privacy of the alley. In two steps, before she could even think to scream, he had her alone up against the alley wall, a hand over her mouth, their bodies pressed together. Closeness was a matter of protection for him. The closer May was, the less she could hurt him. May wanted to fight, he could feel her body primed for it. She was furious, wanting to strike out with her fists against his chest, a kick to his knee, but at this distance there was no chance.

      ‘What are you doing? You scared me!’ To her credit, May was a pale virago. He had succeeded in frightening her and that had been his intention.

      ‘I’m showing you how easy it would have been to have stolen you away, with no one on the street any the wiser,’ he growled into her face. ‘Did you see how none of your fine villagers noticed you slipped off the street? How none of them thought to come to your assistance?’ He let her go and stepped back out of range.

      May glared. ‘How dare you pull such a stunt after everything that has happened? I have my brother on my mind and Beatrice, too.’

      ‘All the more reason you need me. You’re distracted.’ He would not let her push the blame in his direction. ‘I’m not the one pulling the stunt, May. I’m not the one who left home without an escort.’ Perhaps his lesson was harsh, but it was needed. Mixed with his anger over her disobedience had been a certain amount of fear. ‘What were you thinking to leave without me?’

      She didn’t need to answer. He knew what she’d been thinking. Liam took her arm and pulled her out of the alley. ‘Walk with me. We can finish your errands, together.’

      Back on the street, Liam inclined his head discreetly towards a man leaning against the wall of the inn. ‘Do you see that man over there, the one with the hat pulled low over his face?’

      He felt May stiffen beside him. ‘Is he...?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. But she was worried. Good. He needed her scared. He needed this to become real for her.

      ‘No, he’s not, but how would you know? Did you even notice him?’ Liam went on, ‘Most people don’t notice anyone out of place until it’s too late.’

      ‘Most people don’t need to notice,’ May retorted.

      Liam slid a sharp glance her direction. ‘Do you think you’re most people, May? Because if you do, that is your first mistake. You are the granddaughter of an earl, the daughter of a wealthy and powerful man in Parliament. Your father is deep in the government with opinions that some men find unpopular at best, dangerous to their own livelihoods at worst. You are in constant threat of being made a target for other men’s ambitions. You cannot afford to think of yourself as “most people”.’ Neither could he. That had been his mistake back when he’d been barely out of adolescence. He’d seen plenty of the world in those days, a slum-raised kid couldn’t help but see it in all its roughness, all its darkness. But he’d never seen a world like hers. Despite what reality had taught him about the gulf between people like the Worths and people like him, he’d been ill-equipped for it and for her. He’d been cocky, full of his street smarts and he’d reached so far above himself he hadn’t even understood how far it was.

      May gave a toss of her head. ‘I refuse to live life gaoled by my fears. I cannot spend my days second-guessing the motives of everyone I meet, or seeing danger around every corner.’ Like he did, that was quite obviously implied, just as it was implied that such behaviour was a slur on one’s character.

      ‘Thank goodness you don’t have to, then. That’s what people like you hire people like me to do for them.’ The careless words slipped out.

      May stopped, hands on hips and faced him, studying him until he couldn’t take