Chapter 4
“Let me go, you barbarian!”
In a split second, Magnus pulled the blade from that milky white neck and leaned back in his seat as he contemplated the stowaway.
Her hair had tumbled loose from her time in the carriage, and with her pale pink dress and doe-eyed expression, she looked like a damsel in distress.
Magnus had a feeling she was anything but.
“Does Laird MacIrvin ken ye’re here?” he asked as he watched her small hand come up to touch her throat as though to ensure no damage had been done.
He swiftly sheathed the knife as those sharp blue eyes followed his movements. Her shoulders relaxed a little as soon as the blade was hidden from view.
The phoenix hoisted her feet onto the seat beneath her and huddled into the corner of the carriage, cowering away from him.
She may look frightened, but her fiery nature burst free when she opened her mouth.
“If he knew I was hiding in his carriage, would he not have dragged me out of it? I am a lady. I do not need anyone’s permission to do what I want,” she scoffed as though the idea that she followed orders was absurd.
Magnus suddenly had a vivid image of her taking orders from him.
He imagined pinning her against a wall in his castle, telling her in no uncertain terms who was in charge.
He felt himself harden in his trews as he pictured her looking up at him through those long, pale lashes, waiting for his next command.
He shifted in his seat and leaned further back, allowing her to calm herself following his rude assault.
“And what is it that ye want, M’Lady? A trip through the Highlands in the dead of night? I fear the views will disappoint ye.”
She sniffed, her dainty feet coming out from under the hem of her dress as she lowered them gingerly to the floor, keeping her eyes on him at all times.
He was well aware of their size difference; it was hard to miss in such a small space. If he could have made his lumbering body any smaller to put her at ease, he would have, but his head was brushing the top of the carriage as it was.
“Would that be so bad? I heard that your clan has beautiful beaches,” she said, tipping her chin up toward him.
He nodded. “Of course, it does. It is on an island, lass,” he stated, the same thread of amusement lacing his words.
“Oh yes, of course,” she said hurriedly. “I knew that, Laird…”
He waited expectantly as she tried hard to recall his name, her brow furrowed in concentration. After all, she’d had quite a night of it; he could not begrudge her forgetting some details.
“MacWatt,” he stated before asking the question he had been dying to get the answer to all night. “And ye are?”
“Lady Leah Anderson,” she replied, her fingers running through her hair as she pulled it over her left shoulder. A nervous tick, it seemed.
She appeared to be on the edge of leaping from the carriage or tying herself to the seat. The lady was clearly in two minds as to whether spending more time with him or escaping was the priority.
Magnus considered the scene he had witnessed between Lady MacIrvin and the Englishman. The man had been demanding to see his ‘daughter,’ who he had traveled to Scotland to collect. And now Magnus found an English girl hiding in his carriage.
It did not take him long to put two and two together. That pompous oaf was this girl’s father.
“So, Lady Leah Anderson, what are ye doin’ in me carriage?” he asked, wondering what excuse she might give.
Their eyes met and held, and he forced himself not to look away.
She glanced around at the carriage interior. “Is this not Laird MacIrvin’s carriage?”
“Dinnae change the subject. And dinnae lie to me. I’ll nae take kindly to it, what with me being a barbarian and all.”
To his surprise, revealing that he had overheard her unpleasant description of him did not embarrass her. She looked out the window at the shadowy hills on the horizon, the reflected moonlight on a lake the only thing that could be seen through the blackness of the night.
“I only hid here for a short while. I was tired and needed to rest. I didn’t realize it would be used this evening, or else I would never have climbed in.”
“So… ye wanted to have a rest under the seat?”
“It’s an English thing, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Wrong answer, lass. I’m afraid we barbarians ken a great deal about the ways of the English and why they choose to do the things they do. I’m takin’ ye back to MacIrvin Castle.”
“Please.” Those expressive blue eyes were wide and desperate. “Please don’t take me back there. If you do, something terrible will happen to me. Something I cannot prevent.”
“That isnae me problem. What do ye think will happen to me if they find out I’ve kidnapped ye in a borrowed carriage from me host?”
“You care more about saving your own pride than a lady’s reputation?”
“Aye, I guess so.”
“You’re a brute.”
He grunted. “Aye. That too.”
He studied her for a short while, trying not to focus on her breasts as they rose and fell in her agitated state. She was truly scared of something, that was obvious.
“And how do ye ken nothin’ bad will happen to ye if ye come with me? Ye’re willin’ to throw yerself at me mercy? Ye dinnae ken anythin’ about me, save that I’m a barbarian brute.”
Her eyes hardened as she met his gaze, and for the first time, he saw the veneer of polite society fall away as the warrior stirred within. She looked for all the world like she could fight an army and win by will alone.
“Nothing can be worse than the fate awaiting me when I return. Nothing.”
Her slim fingers were twisting in her lap again. The movement made him uneasy. He did not like seeing her distressed. His fingers itched to reach across and wrap around hers to comfort her.
“I could come to stay with you as your guest,” she muttered, glancing up at him warily. “Only for a few days.”
Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with a dubious stare as she attempted to convince him.
“In Ancient Greece, if someone asked for shelter, their request had to be granted,” she concluded.
“Och, aye? Well, this is the Highlands,” he grunted.
And just as he said those words, a fork of lightning split the sky above them, illuminating the carriage’s interior with bright white light. In the next instant, the heavens opened, and rain began to fall across the lands around them, drumming heavily on the roof above their heads.
“Please,” she was close to begging now. “I’ll do anything.”
He felt arousal rush through him at those words, imagining himself in another lifetime as quite a different man. Perhaps he would find her in his castle, alone and vulnerable, desire burning in her eyes as she promised to be his if he would just keep her safe.
“Anythin’?” he asked, the lust in the word coming through unbidden as he looked at her.
“Within reason,” she replied acidly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.
“Then it doesn’t seem that ye’re that desperate, lass.”
“You know nothing of desperation.”
“Och, aye?” he asked gruffly. “And what do ye ken about me?”
“You are a man! Already, you have an advantage over me.” Her voice was steady, her gaze unflinching as she challenged him. “You do not know what it is like to be a woman, waiting for the next order to be given to you by those who see you as beneath them.”
She looked out at the lashing rain. “I cannot live by my own rules. No woman can. Men come and go as they please. You attend balls on a whim, standing at the side of the room, dancing with no one. When it comes time to leave, you do so, having only spoken to your host. You depart without any comment being made against you because you are respected for your sex alone.”
She shook her head. “If I chose to do such a thing, I would be locked up in bedlam, or worse. My life is arranged by the whims of men. Nothing I do matters as long as I uphold my family name.”
Her fingers were plaiting the long strands of her hair now, a mindless activity that she did not seem conscious of. Magnus thought of his own need sometimes to occupy his hands when his mind was busy. Perhaps they were not so different, after all.
“I suppose if I were to offer to work for you, you’d be scandalized by the suggestion?” she asked.
Her question snapped him out of his reverie.
“Ye? Work?” he asked incredulously, imagining her scrubbing the pots and pans in his kitchen and fetching his bath water.
“And why not?” she demanded.
“Ye are hardly likely to suit a life on yer knees,” he muttered, trying in vain to dismiss the persistent image of her kneeling at his feet, looking up at him plaintively, waiting for his orders.
“What if I offered to write a book about you?” she said, suddenly excited. “I could write about your adventures, your clan’s power, telling tales of your greatness.”
She looked even more beautiful as she became animated, her bright eyes dancing with ideas as she looked at him.
Although the thought of a book about him seemed absurd, the opportunity to promote his clan appealed to him. The alliance with MacIrvin was one thing, a book showing their skills and resources could be quite another.
Magnus watched her as she waited for his decision. He was reluctant to admit it, but the lady’s pleas and her little speech had stirred something inside him.
He realized he felt sorry for her and did not wish to be the reason she returned to a situation where she was exploited at the whims of another man. He could well imagine what a useful bargaining chip such a beauty might be. Just thinking about her father using her in such a way made him angry.
Who is this lass that she has such a hold on ye? Ye’re lettin’ a stranger into yer castle for nay other reason than a set of pretty blue eyes and a bonnie face.
“Fine,” he growled. “Ye can stay for a week. We shall see about a book later.”
“A month,” she countered.
“Two weeks,” he replied, glaring at her when she opened her mouth to try to negotiate further. “But in return, ye must give me what I ask of ye, when I ask it of ye. Do we have a deal?”