“Would that be so bad?” She lifted her head to regard him beside her.

  “I want you to be my wife.” Kendal propped himself up on his elbow, his muscles flexing with each move. “In name as well as in body. Although, admittedly, ‘body’ has been considerably enjoyable.”

  Appreciation lit his gaze as it trailed first down, then up, her nakedness.

  “In that case, we must dress quickly.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth and fought the urge to deliver another and yet another still.

  He didn’t bother to move as she pushed to her feet and took the linen from the basin to wipe down her body. In fact, he tucked his palms behind his head, elbows outstretched, and watched her run the cloth over her skin until desire left him jutting outward.

  When she finished, he tried to grab her toward him, but she spun away.

  “You wicked man,” she laughed. “Don’t you wish to wed?”

  Seriousness settled in his stare. “More than I ever realized I could want to. Come, I’ll help you with your stays.”

  She lifted her brows. “You’ll help me with my stays?”

  “I want those hard, little nipples to be mine and mine alone.” In demonstration, he cupped her breast and circled his thumb over the taut bud.

  She moaned and leaned into him.

  “Now who is being wicked?” he asked.

  “To the kirk,” she said huskily. “And then to bed.”

  Never had Sophia’s stays been tied with more haste and were quickly followed by the rest of her garments. As the mourning attire was inappropriate for a wedding and given Kendal’s distaste for it, Sophia settled on the light blue gown she’d worn the night after they’d been drenched in the rain.

  Once they were both dressed, Kendal scanned her appearance and tilted his head in contemplation.

  “What is it?” She glanced down at her attire, fearful something dreadful had become of her one good gown.

  “You’re missing something.” He frowned slightly.

  Nothing appeared amiss. She shook her head and elevated her gaze to him as he withdrew something from his pocket.

  Something that sparkled.

  Her diamond necklace. The one that had been stolen.

  Sophia sucked in a gasp. “Wherever did you find that?”

  “I retrieved it from a rather nefarious chap.”

  “And he simply gave it to you?” she asked incredulously.

  “He required a bit of persuasion that I was more than willing to deliver.” Kendal smirked.

  And there it was, just like that, the edge of danger to this handsome, sensual man who was tearing her walls down, one brick at a time.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll leave you now that I have this necklace to trade for help with a distillery?” She cocked a brow as she teased him.

  “Not when you harbor such distaste for whisky.” He winked at her and attached the necklace to her throat. “And certainly not when you’re so obviously enamored with me.”

  The weight of the diamonds was considerable and the back was cold against her skin. She turned in the mirror and set the gems sparkling.

  “Oh, am I?” She met his eyes in the reflection.

  He feigned innocence with a shrug. “You cannot seem to keep your hands off me.”

  “It’s true. I cannot.” She looked over her shoulder to give him a coy look.

  “Well, perhaps it is a good thing I’m of the same mind.” He touched the gems and let his fingers dip lower to caress the tops of her breasts where they were visible just over the edge of her bodice.

  It would be so easy to lean against him and let him kiss her until she couldn’t think properly.

  But that would come later.

  Again and again and again.

  Instead, she fingered the jewelry. “You do know diamonds are in poor taste for breakfast.” And they were. But it didn’t stop her from admiring the precious jewels.

  He kissed her neck, just above the necklace, and chuckled in her ear. “You ladies and your rules.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “Then later, I should like to request that you wear this necklace.” His fingertip ran down her spine. “And nothing else.”

  She shivered. “If you wish it to be so.”

  “That almost sounded biddable, Lady Kendal.” He gently made her face him once more. “I thought you said you were stubborn.”

  Lady Kendal.

  How she loved the sound of her new name. It carried with it the ring of hope for love and true happiness. A life well-lived.

  “I am.” She unclasped the necklace. “When it’s something I don’t want to do. But when it’s something I do want…”

  “Shall we take breakfast, then?” he asked.

  The idea of food made her mouth water. She slipped her diamond necklace back into her valise with the other jewelry, grateful to see it among her aunt’s jewelry once more. “That would be divine.”

  He offered his arm to her and together they made their way downstairs to the inn’s dining area. But he didn’t take a seat with her once she was at the table.

  “Order anything you like. I’ll be about seeing to a few things.”

  “I don’t want to eat without you,” she protested.

  “But you do wish to eat.” He lifted her hand and gave the back of it a delicate kiss. “As you said. And I knew you wouldn’t take breakfast without me.” He smiled at her frown. “If you are to be stubborn, I believe I shall have to be clever.”

  “You’ve won this battle.” Her chin notched a little higher, her tone playful. “But do not expect to do so every time.”

  “My dear, I would be disappointed if I did.” With a wink, he was gone.

  The scent of rich tea and sizzling ham drifted into her awareness. It wasn’t until then she realized how absolutely ravenous that she was. By the time she was given the toast points and soft-boiled egg, she was nearly weak with hunger.

  She had only just finished her breakfast and was considering ordering a second when the proprietor of the inn approached her with a slight bow. “Do forgive me, my lady, but there appears to be someone requesting your presence in the stables.”

  Her heart nearly tripped over itself. She knew exactly who that someone was and why he wanted her in the stables. No doubt Kendal had something exciting planned for their union. Perhaps they would ride horses to a kirk on the outskirts of Glasgow to be married by a priest. Maybe even one who had helped him smuggle whisky in the past.

  If there was anyone who knew a whisky running priest, it would certainly be Kendal. And what a thrilling start to their marriage.

  She thanked the innkeeper and pushed up from the table. Her pulse raced with anticipation as she left the inn, following the man’s instructions back toward the stables, and pulled open the door. The shadowed interior smelled of a mix of horses and sweet hay. Nervousness edged into her excitement.

  Something wasn’t right.

  “Kendal?” She asked.

  A noise sounded behind her, near the door she’d entered. She spun around, her eyes now adjusted to the light, and gasped.

  An older man, with thin lips and a brutish nose that sat crooked on his face, leered at her. She knew him immediately and it made her blood go ice cold.

  Mr. Mongerton stepped closer to her and held out his hand. “Lady Sophia. I believe I am owed a debt.” He grinned, revealing his startlingly perfect teeth. “And I’m here to collect my payment.”

  Putting all the affairs in order had taken slightly longer than Kendal had anticipated. Finally, a priest had been secured, and he had two reliable men who would stand witness to his union with Sophia.

  Yes, this was Scotland, and they could well be pronounced man and wife by simply announcing they were wed in a public setting. But that wasn’t enough. If he came all this way to save Sophia, he would ensure their union was handled properly.

  The very thought of her brought a fresh smile to his lips. He’d been grinning like a bloody idiot since he’d woken up with her in his arms and through all their time together since.

  And all the couplings. His blood heated with a desire that had been insatiable, as though making up for the years he’d put his lust aside. Difficult though it may have been, he was glad he had waited for Sophia, so that they might share the specialness of it together.

  While the physical connection was indeed satisfying, so too was the wondrous sensation inside his chest, which seemed to make him feel as though he was glowing.

  He’d never been so happy.

  Hell, he never thought of himself as even being capable of happiness.

  Not like this. Not with Sophia.

  Being with her banished all his reservations and fears about marriage. There was a light inside her that promised never to dim and a loyalty that could never be tarnished.

  It made him feel almost foolish for having waited so long to allow himself the luxury of believing in her, especially when Lady Bursbury had been whispering it in his ear for several years now.

  But there was an inexplicable beauty that came with the maturity Sophia had demonstrated in standing up for her own future. When he’d met her previously, she’d just been a debutante like all the rest. Now, she was a woman with a backbone and opinions she didn’t allow to be shoved aside.

  His thoughts pulled his mouth up into a grin.

  What a lady.

  He strode past the main dining area of the inn, noting she was no longer at breakfast. Not that he expected she would still be there. After all, some time had passed since he’d left her.

  Excitement quickened his steps as he jogged up the stairs, eager to see her, to hold her. He opened the door and drew to a stop.

  Her trunks, which had been there before his departure, were gone. As was her valise.

  Which meant her jewels were gone with it.

  Kendal stepped back as though reeling from a physical blow.

  Had she resumed her ridiculous plan to flee to the Highlands and open a distillery?

  Had she…

  He swallowed, unable to even bring himself to think the words. After all, she wasn’t his mother. She wouldn’t do to him what his mother had done to Father.

  Why then was his heart thundering in his chest?

  He raced down the stairs and found the innkeeper behind his desk going through a ledger of sorts.

  “Have you seen Lady Sophia?” Kendal asked.

  The innkeeper slowly looked up. “My lord, do you mean the companion you traveled with? The widow?”

  Damn it.

  “Lady…” His mind drew a blank on the assumed name she’d borrowed for her journey. “Where is she?” Kendal demanded.

  “She left some time ago, I’m afraid.” The man looked back to his ledger, licked his pencil and scribbled something down.

  “Alone?”

  The innkeeper lifted a shoulder. “Presumably, my lord.”

  Kendal cursed.

  Then she had gone. And he would need to catch her.

  Only this time, there would be no promises of marriage. If, after everything they’d shared, she genuinely didn’t want to be with him, he would travel with her to the Highlands and help her set up her damn distillery.

  He would find some other way to keep Marguerite safe. He always had, hadn’t he?

  But he would not force a woman to wed him. Still, he couldn’t quell the bitterness rising like bile inside him. He returned to the stable, where the lad there had only just removed the saddle.

  “I’ll need a horse again,” Kendal said tiredly. He’d half a mind to let Sophia go off on her own and figure out the whisky brewing process by herself. And yet, he knew it would not be as easy as she presumed. Especially not when Highlanders were so wary of strangers. Particularly English ones.

  And if he was being honest with himself, as pathetic as it might be, he hoped in the time it took her to learn, she might reconsider a marriage to him. Not that he would allow his hopes to elevate to such heights. This was, after all, the third time she’d run from him.

  Something in his chest constricted.

  The stable lad lifted the saddle back onto the horse, but Kendal stopped him. “A new one. I’ll need to ride fast.” He sighed. “I have someone to catch.”

  “The lady?” The boy asked.

  Kendal narrowed his eyes at the lad. “Why would you suspect I’d go after her?”

  The stable hand set to work saddling a new horse, one that did indeed look fast with long, high legs and a slender frame. The kind of beast that would fly over the Scottish countryside like the wind.

  The lad didn’t look at him but instead focused on his task. “Her father seemed angry when he came to collect her.”

  Kendal regarded the boy with wariness. “Her…father?”

  “Aye. A big man, tall.” The lad waved a hand over his head to indicate considerable height. “And no’ an attractive bloke if I may say. Methinks yer lady inherited her mum’s looks.”

  While Lord Gullsville wasn’t what Kendal would call an attractive chap, nor were his looks so abhorrent that they would be notable by a child.

  Unease edged a chill down his spine. “What did the man look like?”

  “White hair.”

  Lord Gullsville’s close-cropped hair was silver.

  “Crooked nose.”

  Lord Gullsville’s was as straight and aristocratic as they came.

  “Verra nice teeth, all straight and fine.”

  Waterloo teeth, no doubt. Only the finest, harvested from the bounty of slain soldiers after the battle. The sets of teeth were far too common these days by those crass enough to elevate their appearance with the dead's leavings.

  Men like Mongerton.

  Kendal gave the boy a coin and took over, fastening the saddle into place with skilled hands that could move with more haste than the lad’s could. “Which way did they go?”

  The boy pointed in the opposite direction Kendal had planned to travel. “That way.”

  “In a carriage?” Kendal tugged the strap to ensure it was locked in place. It offered no give.

  “Aye. A plain black hired chaise with four horses.” The boy’s brown eyes slid away.

  “What is it?”

  He scuffed at a bit of hay with the toe of his shoe. “I was outside, so I couldna hear what they said, but at one point, the lady screamed. It was quick and cut short.”

  Kendal’s blood chilled and he swung up onto the steed, fueled with determination.

  They would be traveling fast, but he could go faster.

  “I tried to get to her,” the boy continued, “but the carriage came racing out of the yard…” His small mouth twisted to the side, his averted gaze indicative of tears.

  “You are to be commended for your bravery.” Kendal tossed another coin to the boy and bolted from the stables, steering the horse in the direction the stable lad said the carriage had gone.

  Whether by Mongerton or some other wretch, Sophia had been taken by force. Kendal would find her. And he would make them pay.

  15

  Sophia had a rock curled in the palm of her hand. It was the only thing she could grab at the last minute as Mongerton’s men had dragged her to the coach, kicking and screaming.

  The cloth they’d knotted around her face had a musty odor and tasted of sweat and dust. The coarseness of the fabric dug into the corners of her mouth, so she was scarcely able to swallow. She had tried turning her head from side to side at the beginning like a horse with blinders but finally resigned herself to her fate.

  Instead, she now glared at Mongerton. Her wrists were bound in front of her with rough rope. By some miracle, his men had been so consumed with binding her that they hadn’t thought to pry open her fist.

  The rock was a small bit of a thing. Nothing that could dash a man’s brains or anything even close. Not that she was knowledgeable on such matters.

  But perhaps if angled correctly, it might cause enough injury that she could attempt to flee. Or perhaps if propelled toward a tender area of the body or face?

  She knew nothing of fighting or battle. But she knew she would not yield easily.

  Mongerton’s heavy breath echoed in the small cabin. He wore elegant clothes like a peer, but the hard life he’d lived remained etched on his homely face. “I see Lord Kendal found you.”

  Sophia continued to scowl at him.

  He shifted in his seat, and his jacket opened slightly, revealing a dagger at one side of his paunch and a gun at the other. “Did he touch you?”

  Kendal.

  Oh, he had touched her. In the most wonderful ways.

  She said nothing, though her heart raced as she recalled what they had shared. At the very thought of Kendal. Surely, he would come for her. As soon as he realized Mongerton had taken her, he would no doubt come after her.

  But when?

  The carriage had already traveled significantly farther than she’d anticipated they would. She had expected Kendal to be there from the first, chasing them down.

  As one hour passed into two, worry set in. What if…?

  What if he thought she had left him? The way his mother had left his father?

  Regardless of Kendal’s unflinching demeanor, there was a sensitivity to him that ran heart deep. It was one of the endearing qualities about him that she was particularly drawn to.

  If he’d thought she’d hurt him, however…

  Mongerton suddenly slammed his meaty fist on the padded bench. The entire cabin shuddered. Despite Sophia’s resolve to not show any fear, she started with a little jump.

  “Did he touch you?” he snarled.

  She raised her brows at his foolishness and pointed to the linen tied against her mouth.

  He huffed in irritation and sat forward, reaching behind her head to untie the binding. Relief from the pressure around her mouth was immediate. She worked her jaw to encourage the feeling and swallowed, wishing for something to wash away the taste that sat musty and foul on her tongue.

  Mongerton leveled a gaze at her, his eyes slightly rheumy with age. “Did he touch you?”

  “You never will.” She narrowed her eyes. “And that’s what really matters.”

  Quick as lightning, he reached out, grabbing her by the front of her gown, just under the sash where the pale blue silk belled out around her frame. A harsh rending sounded as the delicate fabric gave against his violent grip.

 

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