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He was even more devious than she’d given him credit for. He was no scorpion; he was a snake, a lying, treacherous …
“And what lovely thoughts are you thinking, my darling?” he murmured softly, pulling her back against him, where she settled easily enough. Damnably easy. “Looking forward to your wedding night?”
She let him feel her instinctive shudder, but he simply laughed. “I was thinking you were more a snake in the grass than a scorpion. ”
“Then you know little of scorpions, my precious. Scorpions are deceptively lethal. They avoid sunlight, and they poison their prey before the victims realize what’s going on. ”
“So why are you called the Scorpion? Are you a poisoner?”
“Oh, there’s little I won’t do if the need arises. But in fact the name came from the pet scorpion I brought with me from Jamaica when I finally returned to England. I brought it as a pet, and my traveling companion took to calling me Scorpion as a term of affection. ”
Author: Anne Stuart
“A female, no doubt. ”
“The scorpion? Yes. The traveling companion was not. He was a friend. ”
“And where is your deadly little pet? Are you planning to unleash it on me?”
“I’m afraid Desdemona died. I was staying at an inn outside of Paris and she got loose. The landlord panicked and stomped her to death. ” His voice was cool and detached, but Miranda wasn’t fooled.
“And what happened to the landlord?”
“He met with a fatal accident. On my sword. ”
She shivered. Again, he could doubtless feel her reaction, but he said nothing. He enjoyed thinking he’d cowed her, she realized. That was his goal—to shatter and destroy her, not physically, but in every other way. A suitable revenge for the sister that Miranda knew nothing about.
And with sudden blazing insight she realized her one defense. She could weep and cower and moan, and ensure his victory.
Or she could embrace the adventure. She had taken social ostracism and made it a joyous life. She had reacted to abduction with calm fortitude. She was sadly lacking in the frail sensibilities most young women were prone to. She was practical, adaptable, and not one to waste too much time bemoaning her fate.
She glanced over at Jane. So he’d brought her along to keep her in line. She could think of one way to handle that. “In truth,” she said in a conversational voice, “I’m glad you brought Jane along, particularly if she’s not truly unwell. Her companionship makes things much more bearable. ”
She felt him stiffen, and she almost wanted to giggle. “That’s hardly a charitable way of looking at things,” he said. “Don’t you think she’s frightened? Worried about what her parents would think?”
“As long as she’s with me she’ll be fine, and her parents have complete faith in my ability to keep her safe. We’ve gotten into a number of scrapes in the past and I’ve always looked out for her. ” She smiled in the darkness, enjoying his discomfiture. “I’ll keep her safe this time, and thoroughly enjoy her company. It was indeed very kind of you to keep her with us. ”
“I didn’t do it as a kindness,” he snapped, then took a deep breath, regaining his self-control. “Though of course I rejoice in my ability to bring you pleasure. ” There was silence for a moment, and Miranda held her breath, waiting to see if her ploy worked.
She felt his body relax. Strange, that she had grown so accustomed to his body so quickly, that she could read his reactions. “But I’m afraid that Miss Pagett won’t be continuing our journey. I’ve made arrangements for someone to escort her back to London. She’ll be leaving us at … ah, but I think you’re better off not knowing where we’re going. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. ”
Miranda let her shoulders slump in a good show of defeat as she grinned into the darkness. She’d done it! Her first ploy had worked, and Jane would be returned, safe.
And then all she had to worry about was herself. And she knew exactly how she was going to do it.
She snuggled against him, pressing her face against the superfine of his coat. In fact, he did smell good. Leather and wool and spice and warm male skin. The battle was on. And she was not without weapons after all.
The sky was growing lighter when they stopped to change horses again, and Miranda peered out the window, trying to gauge where they were. The posting house gave no clue—how many Cock and Swallow taverns would there be scattered around England? The landscape was no help at all, either. They were in the countryside, and through the early morning mist she thought she could see mountains, but that was useless, as well. The Pennines ran up the center of England; their carriage could be on either side of them. She tried to see if she could smell the salt tang of the ocean, but there was nothing in the air but the earthy smell of early spring.
Jane had emerged from her fog and was looking about her with vague alarm. “Do you have the faintest idea where we are?” she asked nervously. “My parents are going to explode. ”
“Lord Rochdale sent a note to your parents. They’ll be appeased at least for a while, and then you’ll be back home, safe and sound. They may scold, of course, but you know your parents could never be too harsh. ”
Jane smiled ruefully. “But what are they going to say when they see this?” She’d pulled off her glove, and the extravagant diamond glowed even in the dim carriage light.
“You still can’t get it off?”
Jane tugged at it, but it stayed where it was, as if glued. “I was hoping a day without eating would make a difference but it seems to be there for good. ” She glanced at her right hand, where Bothwell’s pitiful ring resided. “I suppose I could cut off my finger. ”
