Chapter 1
Eliza spent the rest of the afternoon with her sisters, packing for her journey to Scotland.
Juliet looked infinitely sad, but Margot was so angry she was shaking.
As soon as they were alone in Eliza’s bedroom, she hugged her and said in a voice that trembled with rage, “Do not back down, Lizzie. He is only a man, and you have already shown him that you’re willing and able to stand up for yourself. ”
Margot took Eliza by the shoulders and looked straight into her dark eyes.
“You are a Tewsbury, and our uncle and father have disgraced our name by treating their daughters like cattle and selling us. I am ashamed of them, but I am proud of all of us, Lizzie, so hold your head up and show this big Scottish savage that you’re not to be toyed with.
If he tries to treat you like dirt, remember we are behind you.
We may not be big and strong men, but there are other ways of defending yourself besides your fists. ”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Juliet put in soothingly. “Perhaps he is one of those gentle giants who looks fierce on the outside but is secretly very tender inside.”
Margot let out a cynical bark of a laugh. “I somehow doubt it,” she said.
“Look at our cousins,” Juliet pointed out. “Each one of them is now happily married with a child and a loving husband. The same can happen to us.”
“More often when women marry for convenience, it ends up in a lifetime of misery,” Eliza said sadly. “But I am determined to make the best of it.”
“He’s very handsome,” Juliet put in, but that observation caused Margot to laugh even harder.
“That means nothing,” she observed. “A man does not have to be ugly to be evil. Handsome is as handsome does.”
This was true, and a mood of depressing silence settled on the sisters as they helped Eliza to pack her trunks.
When they were finished, they ate a quick meal that Margot had ordered to be sent up from the kitchen—from the last servant that had remained in their household—then Eliza donned her travelling clothes.
Eliza had kept her thoughts to herself, but secretly she was vowing to have her revenge on Duncan Sinclair and her father for treating her as though she were a commodity to be bought or sold.
Granted, her cousins’ marriages had all turned out to be happy after they had been sold off like cattle, but that was no guarantee that hers would be.
“Write to us as soon as you get there,” Juliet begged as she held both of Eliza’s hands in her own. “And look on the bright side, Lizzie. You may be pleasantly surprised.”
“Always the optimist, Juliet.” Eliza smiled as she kissed her sister, then turned to Margot, whose face was dark with anger.
“If he lays a finger on you, let me know, I’ll come straight to you,” Margot threatened.
“I will,” Eliza promised, even though she wondered what Margot could really do. She was physically a tall woman, though not as tall as this Laird Sinclair, but her personality was huge! Anyone who annoyed her sister did so at their peril.
However, now Eliza had other things to concern herself with.
Her luggage was safely stowed away, and she hugged her sisters then climbed up into the carriage, settling herself in with a blanket and her sewing.
She was embroidering some handkerchiefs for Margot’s birthday, but now she was doubtful that her sister would ever receive them.
A moment later, the other side of the carriage tilted as Duncan climbed in.
His auburn hair had been dishevelled by the wind, and up close, Eliza could see the shadow of his day’s beard.
He gave her a smile that showed a deep dimple on each of his cheeks and made his amber eyes glint with mischief, and Eliza could not help feeling that he was enjoying her discomfort.
He was, however, one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.
She had visualised Scotsmen as being short, carrot-haired and ugly, but this man was definitely not short!
In fact, he was well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and ruggedly handsome features which included full, well-shaped lips that brought the word “kiss” to mind.
Granted, he had red hair, but it was dark, wavy, and glossy. He was gorgeous!
The only way she could avoid responding to him was to do her sewing or look out of the window. Eliza chose her embroidery, and tried to concentrate on the stitches, but she gave up after she realised that she had become so distracted that she had made a complete mess of her work.
She felt Duncan’s eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze, then once more marvelled at the golden colour of those exotic eyes. “Are you comfortable, Lady Eliza?” he asked politely.
“Why do you care?” she replied stiffly. “Do you ask cows if they are comfortable in their fields? I am just a commodity to you.”
Duncan stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark with anger, then he shrugged, evidently deciding that he would not give her the satisfaction of answering. Eliza was almost disappointed.
“We will be staying at an inn just over the Scottish border tonight,” he told her. “In a town called Kelso. Lovely place. Have you ever travelled to Scotland before?”
“No.” The answer was a dismissal, and Duncan immediately ended the conversation by falling silent. Nevertheless, he continued to gaze at Eliza, even though she steadfastly ignored him.
When he began to speak again, he seemed to be deliberately trying to enrage her. “This place was constantly raided by the English a few hundred years ago,” he said. “They made the abbey into a ruin, and there is not much love lost here for you lot. But don’t worry… I’ll protect you.”
“I can look after myself,
” Eliza snapped.
Duncan grinned. “Of course you can.”
The miles passed, and presently they entered a pretty little market town with a coaching inn called Reivers House located in the main square.
It was a substantial building with carved stone pillars at the entrance and stout oak doors.
It was not a palace, but it was in considerably better shape than her own house.
The whole place looked well-kept and clean, with neatly trimmed flower gardens and stout stone walls.
As they made their way inside, Eliza was aware of many female faces turning towards Duncan, almost devouring him with their eyes.
Conversation in the main room was loud, but not raucous, and the clientele was a better class of people than Eliza had expected.
Nevertheless, Duncan was the centre of attention for a while, but he showed no reaction.
Eliza felt an unwelcome prickle of pride and triumph; this handsome devil of a man was hers—not that she had chosen it or that she liked it, of course, but still—and to everyone else’s eyes it must seem that she herself was very special.
Duncan found a table for them and ushered Eliza into it, then ordered food for both of them. It was clear that he was used to giving orders because of his air of authority, and Eliza sat back and let him take charge, too tired to do so herself.
Presently, Duncan excused himself and left the table.
Eliza took the opportunity to breathe freely, when a young woman who had been serving at the bar approached her and set down two glasses of wine on their table.
She smiled at Eliza, then said, “Yer man is very handsome, Mistress. Are ye goin’ tae get married? ”
Eliza frowned, then thought of something that would irritate Duncan, gleefully admitting to herself that she found teasing him to be an absolute delight. “I suppose we will,” she replied, sighing. “Although he is a little… em… too delicate to satisfy me. He is not as manly as he looks.”
The waitress gasped in shock, scandalised by what Eliza had said. She took a step backwards, only to bump into Duncan, who had heard Eliza’s last words. He gave her a mock-evil smile, raising his eyebrows and narrowing his eyes, then spoke loudly enough for the young woman to hear.
“Perhaps after dinner you should give me a chance to prove how ‘delicate’ I am,” he suggested pointedly.
As if it were the most natural gesture in the world, he bent over and kissed Eliza lightly on the lips before she could protest, then sat down beside her.
Eliza felt her cheeks flush, and she stammered, “I-I was only joking. We English have a sense of humour, you know.”
And yet, as she looked at the sculpted shape of Duncan’s lips, “delicate” was the last word that came to mind.
What was happening to her? She could feel her body reacting to him by the warmth and moisture gathering between her thighs, and hoped he had no way of knowing how she was feeling.
Duncan’s eyes were fixed on her face, and Eliza had an awful suspicion that he could read her thoughts.
The poor waitress was absolutely mortified. She turned scarlet with embarrassment, then whirled around and scurried away.
“That was cruel, and for a lady like yourself,” Duncan shook his head as he watched the young woman making her escape.
“I have no regard for your feelings,” Eliza said haughtily. “You bought me. I am your property, nothing more. I care nothing about you.”
She took a sip of the wine that Duncan had ordered, and was pleased to savour something much richer and more flavoursome than she had ever received at home.
Her appreciation must have shown on her face, because Duncan gave her a wide smile and said, “I see the wine meets with your satisfaction. I must have done something right.”
Eliza had no choice but to agree with him. “The wine is lovely,” she said reluctantly.
Just then, their food arrived, this time brought by a tall man who looked threateningly at Duncan.
Duncan smiled at him. “Thank you,” he said politely, nipping in the bud the aggressive remark the man had been about to voice.
The waiter turned and walked away, but not before giving Duncan a venomous glare.