Seduced By A Scot. Julia London

this how you’ll take your leave, then? Without so much as a fare thee well?” he’d shouted at Miss Darby as she strode toward Nichol.

      She ignored him. Did not pay him the slightest heed. This woman. Nichol didn’t know if he ought to be appalled by her lack of civility or impressed with her courage to stand up to Rumpkin. And to him, for that matter.

      She arrived before him and dropped her bag. He glanced at her shoes. Silk, by the look of it. “Those will no’ do for a long journey, Miss Darby,” he said, nodding in the direction of her feet.

      “They will have to do, Mr. Bain. They are all I have. When I was banished from the home I’ve known for a dozen years, I was no’ permitted the luxury of time to consider all that I might need, aye?”

      Nichol’s opinion of Garbett was rapidly deteriorating.

      “Is this it, then? After feeding you and putting a roof over your fool head?” Mr. Rumpkin demanded.

      Miss Darby looked up at the sky, at the dusting of snow that was beginning to fade away. She looked at Nichol, then at the groom. “Where is the carriage?”

      “Carriage!” Mr. Rumpkin said with a sputter. “You think too highly of yourself!”

      Miss Darby looked at Nichol.

      “No carriage,” he said simply.

      She studied the horses, then young Gavin in his saddle.

      “Where is the maid? Surely I’m no’ to travel without a female companion.”

      “I’m afraid Mr. Garbett’s resources did no’ allow for a maid. We’ll be but a day.”

      Her eyes widened with alarm. “Where is my mount, then?”

      Nichol patted the rump of his horse.

      Miss Darby stared at the horse, then at him. Her mouth dropped open. She looked at the groom again, but the lad studiously avoided her gaze. “Do you mean I am to ride with you?” she asked incredulously. “Without chaperone or a lass?”

      “Aye.”

      “You never said I would ride with you, on the same horse!”

      Nichol bowed his head. “Quite right you are. Allow me to correct the oversight—you are to ride with me, on the same horse. Without chaperone or a lass.”

      She gasped. “I will no’!”

      “Och, I knew she’d no’ go,” Mr. Rumpkin said. “Too lazy, she is. She’s had it easy.”

      With that remark, something flashed in Miss Darby’s brilliant blue eyes. She slowly turned and glanced at the offending man over her shoulder, muttered something that sounded French, then picked up her bag. For a moment, Nichol thought she meant to return to her room at the top of the tower, but she suddenly threw the bag at him.

      Nichol caught it with one hand. She stomped forward, presenting herself to be seated on the horse. How odd, Nichol thought, that at this moment, he was having to fight a small smile. Her defiant spunk amused him.

      “What’s this?” Rumpkin demanded as Nichol lashed her bag onto his horse. “You mean to go with him, then?” he demanded of Miss Darby. “Have you any idea the sort of talk you will cause if people see you riding off as if you were a dead fox draped across his lap?”

      Miss Darby looking imploringly at Nichol. “Will you please be quick about it?”

      He cupped his hands and bent at the waist to give her a lift. She slammed her foot into his hands, and he vaulted her skyward. She landed lopsidedly on the saddle and cried out with alarm, but managed to catch herself before she slid off the other side and landed on her bottom.

      “Go on then, ride out of here like the slut you are, aye?” Mr. Rumpkin shouted.

      Nichol turned, walked calmly to where Mr. Rumpkin stood swaying to keep his balance. He caught him by the open neck of his shirt. “You’ve caused enough harm, aye? No’ another word, sir, or I shall put my fist in your mouth and shove it all the way down your gullet to make sure you never utter another word again.” He shoved Rumpkin away, and the man stumbled backward. He was drunk enough that he went down onto his arse with a great thud.

      “You’ll no’ treat me in this way!” he screeched, but made no move to pick himself up. “You will compensate me for the broken window, that you will, or I’ll have the proper authorities searching for you ere you leave Aberuthen!”

      Nichol walked back to the mounts, put his foot in the stirrup and launched himself onto the horse, directly behind Miss Darby. He hitched the horse about and nodded at Gavin. They trotted out of the drive while Mr. Rumpkin dumbly watched them go.

      Miss Darby did not look back once.

      “Donna sit so close,” she said, and wiggled, trying to put some space between them. “I donna want to be so familiar with you, aye?”

      “Do you want to be difficult?” Nichol asked casually.

      She snorted. “You may depend on it, Mr. Bain.”

      “Good,” Nichol said, and spurred his horse to canter. “I like a challenge.”

      She shot him a look over her shoulder. He arched a single brow and smiled. Her gaze moved quickly over his face, and then she abruptly turned, shifting her body forward so she would not touch him. But the horse was moving too fast, and she would bounce right off. Nichol put his arm around her waist to hold her in place.

      “I beg your pardon!” she said angrily. “Is this part of Mr. Garbett’s scheme, too? Did he think I deserved to be carried off like so much luggage?”

      An actual response to her question did not seem necessary, particularly when she immediately asked another question.

      “Where are we going? It will be dark soon. You canna mean to carry on in the dark.”

      His hope was that they would reach Crieff before it was too dark, but before he could answer, she said, “It is apparent that I’ve traded one wretched situation for another, is it no’?” Nichol sensed she had asked her question of the heavens, and not of him. He was right.

      “I will be forced to ride like a hostage across all of Scotland and for what? Another man who might abuse my sensibilities?”

      “You have my word I will leave your sensibilities verra much untouched,” he said.

      She clucked her tongue. “You will pardon me for no’ believing you, Mr. Bain. In my experience, a man’s word is hardly reliable. Mr. Garbett once vowed I would always have a home with him, and yet, here I am, cast out. In the dark,” she added, looking about with a wee bit of nervousness.

      Nichol didn’t say anything to that, but it was true that he might know more about being cast out of a home than he was willing to share.

      “I know what you think,” she continued. “But on my honor, I didna kiss that man. You canna know how impossible it is to breathe when no one believes you. What motive would I have to lie? Och, but I hardly expect you to understand,” she said with a shake of her head.

      Nichol opened his mouth to argue that perhaps he could, but Miss Darby barreled on. “I canna be blamed that, on the rare occasion I was included in a gathering or a call with Sorcha, that gentlemen often looked to me. I never invited it and did my best to avoid it, on my word! But gentlemen believe themselves to be irresistible to the fairer sex and canna possibly believe that a lass would no’ desire his attention, and seek to right that wrong. Even when a lass’s lack of desire is clearly stated, aye? Mr. Cadell was the worst offender! I was quite clear that I didna want his attentions, that he was no’ to touch me, that I would scream if he did, and do you know what he said? He said, ‘You donna mean that,’ and put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me against the wall and bloody well kissed me.”

      She paused, cast a quick glance at Nichol over