Page 28 of Reckless Desire

“You do not understand. I…I want to marry you.”

Of all the things Kenna had expected to hear, a marriage proposal wasn’t one of them.

“Are you daft?” she demanded. “I would no sooner marry a man who kidnapped me that I would a…a—I cannot even think of anything. Stop this carriage and let me go.”

He shook his head. “You must marry me.”

Kenna stared. “I must marry you? I have no money and you cannot be in love with me. We met only two weeks ago.”

“Then you would be wrong,” he said with conviction. “A man can be struck by a woman’s beauty and grace. I cannot live without you.”

“You sound like a sixteen-year-old schoolboy. You are old enough to know better. Order this carriage over and let me go.”

He leaned forward and grasped her hand. She stiffened.

“I can give you a good life. You can attend all the parties you like. Sir Stirling will give his blessing, I promise you.”

She regarded him. “How do you know Sir Stirling will give his blessing? Did he tell you to kidnap me?”

“Nae, but I am a viscount.”

She yanked her hand free. “I care not if you are the king. I do not marry men who kidnap me.” She reached for the door.

He grasped her hands and eased her back into the seat. “I am sorry, Miss Ramsay. But I cannot let you go. Once we are married, I will do everything to make you happy. You will see.”

***

When Mister Davis finished retelling his tale of being hit over the head then regaining consciousness to find his friends surrounding him and Miss Ramsay gone, Bryson looked at Stirling and said, “Who the bloody hell would kidnap her?”

Stirling shook his head. “I have not the vaguest idea.”

Bryson faced Davis. “You are certain you do not know the man?”

Davis shook his head. He rose from the divan and faced Bryson. “I am certain.” He spoke in a hoarse voice. His face, Bryson realized, was still quite pale. “As I said, I glimpsed him for but an instant,” the young man said. “He was a rough sort, perhaps a stable hand.” His mouth thinned. “I cannot believe I allowed him to take her without so much as a whimper.”

“Anyone can be caught unawares,” Stirling said.

A knock sounded on the open door of the parlor. Bryson snapped his head in the direction of the door as a footman entered, trailed by Sir Stirling’s driver.

Stirling strode to them. “Did you find anything, Lucas?”

“Perhaps so, sir. There is a lad who sweeps the streets. He described a coach that waited in the alley near the Davenport’s home. A lion in gold carrying a sword.”

“Hensley,” Bryson said in unison with Stirling.

Bryson pinned him with a hard stare. “I told you Hensley was not a match for her.”

Stirling’s mouth hardened. “Do no’ be a fool, man. Of course, I knew Hensley was not a match for her.”

“But you said—“

“I simply played along when you jumped to the conclusion that I had facilitated an introduction between them.”

“You mean, you did not try to match them?”

“Nae,” he said in a whisper. “I matched her with you, you fool.”

“With me?” Bryson staggered back a pace and caught himself. “But how did you know?”