Page 18 of A Scoundrel’s Promise

Chapter Four

At five minutes before two in the afternoon, Mackenzie pushed aside the gold brocade drapes and peered out her bedchamber window. Liam had sent a note that morning, promising to arrive at two. She’d been watching the drive since noon.

Would he be late? Lord, she hoped not. She scrutinized the road for any hint of the man.

The clock ticked.

She forced herself to breathe, calmly, slowly.

After what felt like ages, the clock chimed twice.

Still no sign of him. She frowned, surprised just how much the pang of disappointment hurt.

A rider emerged from the bend in the road. Her pulse skipped a beat. Liam. He sat straight in the saddle—he would, of course. After all, he was a soldier, and a more handsome one had never walked the earth. He sat with such ease, his lean hips moving in rhythm with the horse. Every line of his body bespoke power.

She leaned against the window and smiled. He must have been fearsome in battle. Her heart tugged. War changed men. She’d often heard that. Just how had Liam been affected?

Once, she’d seen the body of a man carried from a burned cottage. He’d died from the smoke, not the flames. Aside from smudges of soot on his face, he’d appeared to be sleeping. When the villagers laid him on the ground, the man’s wife screamed and threw herself onto her husband’s body. Mackenzie had watched, horrified. She’d half expected the man’s eyelids to flutter open, for him to rise and take his wife in his arms, to kiss her, hold her close, and assure her all was well.

But he hadn’t. Finally, the villagers had pulled the woman aside and carried the man away. For the following week, Mackenzie had lain awake at night, consumed with thoughts that the man might wake up buried in a wooden box, six feet beneath the ground.

She shivered. How much worse were the things that Liam Fraser had seen?

Her eyes snapped back to the road. Liam hadn’t stopped at the front door, as she’d expected, but continued around the side of the house. As she watched, his head suddenly angled toward her window.

Quickly, she stepped back. Her hands flew to her cheeks. Had he seen her? How foolish she’d been. So lost in thought, she’d been staring straight at him. He’d clearly noticed and probably thought her a silly buffoon of a lass. Was he still looking her way? She bit her lip and waited, then finally leaned forward and, with one finger, eased the curtain aside a sliver.

He was gone.

Mackenzie stepped back. He must have gone to the paddock. Did he expect her to meet him there? Nae, no gentleman would expect a lady to arrive on her own. A proper gentleman would escort her to their destination. She scowled. That meant, he mustn’t be coming, that he didn’t intend to include her in the training of her own horse. Or…was he avoiding her? Surely not.

“There’s a misunderstanding,” she murmured.

That left her only one course of action. She hurried toward the door, but on the way, caught her reflection in the mirror near the armoire and stopped. She turned from side to side, studying her appearance. The corset her maid had tied that morning had molded her figure into a perfect hourglass. She smoothed a hand down her side and turned a critical gaze to the light blue riding jacket that hugged her breasts. Yes, quite delightful. Clearly, she was no ‘girl,’ but a woman grown, ready to learn the ways of love—within the confines of marriage, of course—and with the right man, she amended with a prim smile.

A light tap sounded on the door and the maid, Jesse, entered. “The tea is ready in your mother’s antechamber, miss. She sent me to tell you…” Her voice trailed as her eyes locked onto Mackenzie’s waist. “Oh dear. We tied your stays too tight.” She frowned and hurried to Mackenzie’s side. “Your waist is so small. How can ye breathe?” She reached for the buttons on Mackenzie’s jacket.

Mackenzie slapped her hands aside. “I am perfectly fine, Jesse. Now, inform my mother I will not be joining her. I am going riding.”

Ten minutes later, Mackenzie approached the paddock. As suspected, Liam was already there with her Arabian, Freya, leading her in a circle. Her horse was a beauty, but nothing like the man at her side.

“Easy, lass,” he crooned. “That’s right, bonny one. Easy. Trust me.”

Freya snorted and snapped her head, but as Liam continued his gentle words, she stilled and allowed him to flatten a palm on her neck. Slowly, he stroked her back and walked around her rump, palm gliding along her body as the horse twisted her head to watch.

Mackenzie sighed. If only Liam touched her that way. Was it improper to be jealous of one’s horse? Liam turned away to lead the horse across the paddock, and Mackenzie rested her arms atop the fence and inspected the man, pleased with the set of his shoulders and his lean hips. She shivered, secretly shocked at the pleasure to be found in staring at a man’s strong buttocks.

Please, Freya, please be the densest horse in all Scotland. The thought that Liam might work his magic and train her quickly was depressing. Watching Liam was the best birthday present she’d ever received.

As for marriage material? The man was of the highest quality, that was certain. There was little to stand in her way. Doubtless, Lord Ewan Fraser would want his brother happily wed, and as the daughter of an earl, she was a perfect match for a viscount’s brother. Why the Frasers lived as commoners at Blackstone Abbey was a mystery, though she’d heard rumors of their father losing his property through gambling. While rumors were seldom reliable, still, where there was smoke, a fire usually burned. Such hardships, however, wouldn’t stand in her way. Her father was rich, and she, the heiress.

Liam wheeled Freya around. The horse followed. Liam had a true way with horses, a gift that went well beyond just ‘having a way.’ Already, Freya was well on her way to trusting him.

“Aye, bonny one. There’s a sweet lass, now.” Liam chuckled.

Liam looked away from the horse and his eyes locked with Mackenzie’s. He angled his head in acknowledgement.

“Good afternoon.” Mackenzie smiled.