He yanked her hood up over her head, then wrapped an arm around her and pinned her back against his chest. “I am onmyhorse, my lady, and since ye appear to neither possess the will nor the good sense to heed sound advice for yer own wellbeing, I shall not leave ye alone until we arrive at the inn, where I intend to deposit yer less-than-gracious arse onto their hearth. I am, for the lack of a better word, yer keeper. Whether ye like it or not.” He took the reins and added, “Proficiscor!”
“I hate you!” Merry tried to elbow him again but couldn’t move her pinned arms. “This is most improper.”
“We are fully chaperoned, my lady. Yer sister is well within earshot.”
“So, you intend to abandon that horse from my team? I demand you return and fetch him.”
“Not necessary, my lady. My brother has already tethered that fine beastie to his mount and is leading him.”
“Why are you so bloody horrid?”
“Now, now, my lady. Such language.”
“It appears you bring out the worst in me.” Quite warm and toasty with her fur-lined cloak clamped around her by the massive Scot who put out the heat of a bonfire, she struggled to remain angry. “Why are you so horrid? I assure you, we had no intention of interrupting your day the way we did. Are you missing an appointment or something?” It frustrated her to no end because everyone always got on well with her. Papa had once told her she could charm a dog away from a joint of beef. Weariness set in along with the warmth of being held. She succumbed to a jaw-popping yawn and found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. “Well?”
“Sleep, if ye wish, my lady. I’ll not let ye fall.”
“I am not sleepy.” She squinted her eyes shut, then opened them wide as she yawned again. Apparently, he wasn’t going to confess the reason behind his surliness. They must be keeping him from something most important. Perhaps he was heading home to a wife and was now delayed not only by his act of kindness but by the weather.
In spite of her best efforts to remain stiff and as primly upright as possible, she found herself melting back against him. But it wasn’t her fault. He fit so nicely against her, and that spot on his chest just below his chin made the perfect place to rest her head. “When we get to the inn, I shall write an apology to your wife and tell her of your bravery. Perhaps then she’ll not be angry with you when you finally get home.”
“I have no wife.”
“Then I shall write a note to your intended, or whoever is waiting for you at home.” She yawned again, burrowing deeper into her hood as the snow swirled harder around them. The weather laughed at their efforts to travel through the storm.
“Sleep, my lady. For both our sakes, go to sleep.”
Fine.If he wished to be an unpleasant troll about the day that could have turned out so much worse, then so be it.
Chapter Two
Never in allhis life had Duncan ever met a woman so bloody infuriating—or tempting. Feckin’ hell, even the smell of her as she sank into his arms and finally went to sleep made his mouth water so badly he nearly choked. And lore a’mighty, those big blue eyes of hers, full of trust and hope when she’d looked up at him as he’d reached for her in that carriage. Then she had clung to him, not sobbing, not caught in a fit of hysteria, but as if she had waited all her life to embrace him.
Barely burying his nose in the furry ruff of her hood, he pulled in another deep breath of her. Lilacs. Or maybe heather. Mixed with the clean, crisp air of winter. The season had once been his favorite time of year. He squinted against the relentlessly stinging blur of white, thankful that Spartan possessed the strength and will to plow through anything. Shadowy outlines of the others were barely visible. They clustered as close as possible to ensure no one strayed from the road. He and Malcolm had traversed many a storm, but he had his concerns about Lady Merry’s sister and their driver. One teetered on the verge of panic, and the other drowned in guilt about an accident that could have been prevented if the man had but known the roads better and taken the high side of the track rather than the low.
Duncan allowed himself a heavy sigh. Malcolm would watch over the lovely Lady Serendipity if she allowed it. His brother enjoyed the ladies better than he enjoyed breathing. The man called Jasper wouldhave to watch over himself and come to terms with his guilt as best he could. A heady thing, guilt was. Terrible indeed. It was a nagging voice inside your heart and your head that never gave you a moment’s peace until you learned to drown it out by any means possible.
Lady Merry shifted in his arms, making him brace himself for more of her endless questions that he couldn’t answer. He hadn’t meant to be such an arse with her, but seeing that carriage in the water had taken him back to the darkest moment of his life. He squinted against the memory and shoved it away.Stay in the present. The past canna be changed.
“How much farther?” she asked through a sleepy yawn.
“Hard to say, lass…uhm…my lady. With the air so thick with snow, landmarks are difficult to find.”
“You can call melass.I daresay this situation is somewhat exempt from strictly adhering to the dictates of acceptable protocol.”
“That was not yer reaction earlier when I joined ye in the saddle.”
“That was different. You vexed me.”
He almost laughed. Something he rarely did. “Spartan and I have shared many years and experiences. He responds best to me. No one else has ridden him in a verra long while.”
“Then why did you suggest that Seri and I ride your mount…and your brother’s?”
“Yer sister did not seem inclined to ride one of the horses from yer team.”
“You mustn’t judge her too harshly. She is frightened.”
Lady Merry shifted in his arms again, fitting back against him with such perfection that the hard ridge of his rising became almost painful. Fecking hell, his bollocks would surely explode if they didn’t reach the inn soon, so he could remove himself from this impossible temptation.
