Chapter 1
One
Lady Horatia Whitaker leaned back into the seat of her carriage and sighed.
The journey to the wilds of Scotland had been nothing short of tedious.
She had received an invitation to her cousin, the Earl of Rosebery’s wedding.
She had wished to decline, but her father had insisted she attend to represent the family.
The earl was her father’s heir apparent, but poor health prevented the Duke of Hampstead from making the journey himself.
As his only child, Horatia was the natural choice to fulfill this duty.
Horatia could travel and therefore she was the perfect person to represent her father at the wedding.
At times like this, she wished for the counsel of a mother.
But her mother had been lost to her many years ago, a victim of a fever when Horatia was just a child.
Since then, it had been only her and her father—a man who, more often than not, seemed indifferent to her presence and most days the Duke of Hampstead could not be bothered with his only child.
She had long wondered why he had never remarried, but he appeared content to let his titles and estates pass to the Earl of Rosebery one day.
Before she had left for Scotland she had sent a missive to her cousin, Phillipa Hartwell.
Pippa and she had always been close. They were the same age and had been launched together.
Their mothers were sisters. She would have liked to say that she was close to Pippa’s brother, but she wasn’t.
They had lost their father recently and she wished she could have gone to visit Pippa at Whitmore hall instead.
But no, that would not be something she could do.
Instead, she was heading to Scotland. She would have to visit Pippa another time.
Horatia closed her eyes and sighed again.
She loathed being cold, and it seemed that since crossing the Scottish border, the chill had become a permanent fixture of her existence.
She tightened her cloak around her shoulders and peeked out of the carriage window.
At least the stark beauty of the Scottish Highlands was something to admire.
That did not mean she wished to remain there for too long and it definitely did not endear her to the place.
She longed to be back in London, and she fervently hoped the wedding would proceed without complications so she could return as swiftly as possible.
The carriage struck a rut in the road, sending her tumbling across the seat.
Her head struck the wall with a sharp thud, and pain shot through her skull, leaving her vision speckled with dancing dark spots.
How had her life come to this? It would be hours before she reached her cousin’s estate.
Every part of her body ached, and the biting cold seeped through her layers of clothing.
She could not recall a time she had been more miserable. Surely, it could not get worse.
She gingerly pressed a hand to her head in an attempt to dull the throbbing ache.
It was a futile effort though. The carriage jolted again, and this time, she slid to the opposite side, hitting her head once more.
A loud crack shattered the air, and the vehicle lurched sharply to the left.
Horatia’s body slammed against the side, and pain reverberated through her frame.
She struggled to sit up, her movements sluggish and unsteady.
Why had she dared to think things could not get worse?
Clearly, she had tempted fate, and fate had answered with cruel precision.
Determined to assess the situation, she pushed open the carriage door to crawl out, though the awkward angle of the vehicle made it a struggle.
She had not been using the intelligence she had been born with.
She had escape the confines of the carriage and discover what had happened.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled onto the road.
She finally broke free and stepped on to the road.
Horatia glanced around her and sighed. Turning back to the carriage, she saw the damage: one wheel lay at an odd angle, completely broken, while the driver slumped motionless on the ground nearby.
She prayed he was not as gravely injured as he appeared…
She finally escaped and stepped on to the road.
Panic gripped her as she hurried to the driver’s side, her movements clumsy from pain and disorientation.
A shallow cut on his head trickled blood, but it did not appear life-threatening.
She pressed trembling fingers to his neck and exhaled in relief when she felt the steady beat of his heart.
He was alive at least, yet their predicament remained dire.
They were stranded in the middle of nowhere, with dense forest on either side of the road and no immediate hope of aid.
How was she going to make it to her cousin’s estate now?
Everything seemed to be going wrong. If the driver had been dead she would definitely not know what to do.
Not that her situation was any better with that news.
She still was out of her element and lost. There was nothing but a forest surrounding them on both sides.
How was she going to get help for both herself and that poor carriage driver?
Her head throbbed fiercely, and the world swam before her eyes.
She clutched at the air, trying to steady herself, but the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
Just then, the distant sound of hoofbeats reached her ears.
Was help on the way? Could she dare to hope?
She glanced around her hoping to see some sort of salvation heading in her direction.
Surely such bad luck wasn’t going to follow her indefinitely.
There had to be some sort of hope to cling to…
Ahorse emerged from the shadows, its sleek black coat gleaming even in the dim light.
Its rider was an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, with long auburn hair and piercing moss-green eyes.
He dismounted and strode toward her, his movements purposeful and commanding.
Her heart beat heavily inside her chest as he approached.
He was as gorgeous and he was imposing and her tongue seemed to thicken.
She struggled to find words, but somehow she found them.
“Who are you?” Horatia managed to ask, her voice weak and trembling.
She hated how she sounded. She was not a weak and inept female.
She was perfectly capable under normal circumstances of taking care of herself.
These were not normal circumstances though.
That did not mean she hated being helpless in any way.
The man’s gaze swept over her, his expression unreadable. “I suppose ye will do,” he said cryptically, his brogue thick and unyielding. “Ye are certainly pretty enough. I see why he likes ye.”
“Who likes me?” she asked, her confusion evident. She wished desperately for the ground to stop spinning. The man made no sense. Not that much made sense. Her mind was fast becoming far to muddled for her liking.
“Ye know very well who I mean,” he said with a wry twist to his lips.
How was she supposed to decipher his meaning?
She had never met the man and still did not know his identity.
Still she had to reason with him. He clearly had her confused with someone else.
“But I do not…” Horatia’s voice faltered as her knees buckled.
She swayed, and darkness closed in around her before she could process his words.
She flailed a little as she tried to catch her balance, and failed.
Horatia started to fall backward and she feared she would hit the ground.
She never knew what happened in that moment because it all went dark, and all thoughts fled her battered mind.
Lachlan MacKay, the Duke of Montclaire, stared down at the woman in his arms. She was fortunate he had been quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground.
The poor lass had already been battered enough by her carriage mishap.
She was a bonny little thing, with golden blonde hair and eyes so blue they reminded him of the sea at night—dark and arresting to behold.
Surely, such a lovely creature could not truly intend to marry that reprobate, the Earl of Rosebery.
She was far too radiant to be tied to the likes of that dastardly earl, a man who had quickly become the bane of Lachlan’s existence.
He told himself he was doing her a service by taking her with him.
She would thank him once she realized what a mistake it would have been to wed such a scoundrel.
She was far too good for the earl, and even if she wasn’t, Lachlan did not care.
As long as his actions caused the earl some degree of discomfort, he would consider it time well spent.
For now, she would keep him company at his estate, where he planned to get to know her much better.
Yes, by that, he fully intended to seduce her.
He would have been inclined to do so even if she had not been so stunningly beautiful, but her beauty certainly made the prospect all the more appealing.
With that thought in mind, Lachlan carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her to his horse, laying her across the saddle.
She would undoubtedly feel the aches from this journey once she woke, but there was no easy way to transport her to safety.