Page 40 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
Before Duncan helped her into the carriage, she glanced worriedly skyward. “I fear seeing the ruin has put us in the center of the storm.”
“It was going to hit sooner rather than later,” he said gruffly. “We were going to get stuck in it, anyway. Nothing to be done but move forward.”
She wanted to say more, to express her regret over hurting him with a few words—words that had been intended to offer him comfort but seemed to have had the opposite effect. His stony expression precluded any possibility of attempting to make the situation better. So she climbed into the vehicle, and when he got in after her, she rapped her knuckles against the roof to signal that they should be off at once.
Though it was only midafternoon, thick clouds obscured the sun. The interior of the carriage was shrouded in darkness.
It was a difficult thing to know that you’d wronged someone and there was nothing to be done but wait for them to either forgive you or walk away. In the case of her and Duncan, he could only leave metaphorically, trapped together as they were in this carriage.
The storm hit less than thirty minutes after leaving the ruin. Rain drummed against the carriage, and the vehicle’s usual sway turned to a rough rockingfrom the wind and the now-muddy, rutted road. Peering out the window, she watched trees shudder in the gale, their limbs shaking like frenzied dancers.
She could also just make out the fact that they drove along the edge of a ravine, the ground just beside the road sloping downward into darkness. Thank God Wiggins was an excellent driver—he’d see them through safely, and she would be certain to handsomely compensate him and Green for enduring this weather.
Suddenly, the carriage gave a violent jolt. It came to a grinding halt, and Beatrice was flung forward, sprawling across Duncan’s lap. He caught her and braced his feet against the floor to keep them level as the vehicle tilted sharply downward.
“Whoa! Easy!” Wiggins yelled to the horses.
“You all right?” Duncan asked her.
“Only a bump on my shin,” she answered, trying to right herself. Her heart thudded in the aftermath of the jolt. “What happened?”
“My guess is a broken axle. Wait here.” He set her back on her seat before hauling himself out of the listing carriage, shutting the door behind him to keep out the rain. Then she was alone.
In melodramatic novels, these scenes were thrilling, but she wasn’t thrilled at all—this was terrifying. Though things could have been worse, she didn’t want to consider those possible scenarios.
She absolutely didnotwant to be by herself in acarriage that reeled like a drunkard. After nervously tugging her pelisse securely around her body, she pushed open the door and pulled herself from the vehicle.
Almost instantly, the rain soaked through her clothing. Her bonnet did little, and she brushed droplets out of her eyes only to have more and more water run down her face. She shivered from a combination of cold and lingering fear.
Duncan and Wiggins stood next to the front left wheel and, judging by their grim expressions, the situation was dire.
“Is it the axle?” she said above the wind.
Duncan scowled. “It is. And you should be in the carriage.”
Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound as a thick branch from a nearby tree snapped off and crashed into the roof of the vehicle. The luggage took some of the force, but a large chunk of the top caved in like a rotten pumpkin.
“Oh my God,” she cried. That had been so close, and she’d almost been inside the carriage, almost been... She shuddered.
At once, Duncan’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
“I nearly wasn’t.” She took the comfort he offered, leaning into his strength. His hand rubbed up and down her arm, steadying her.
“Unhitch the horses,” Wiggins shouted to Green.
She felt Duncan start to move toward Green, but then he stayed where he was, continuing to comfort her.
“You want to help,” she said through chattering teeth.
He shot her a look, as though he felt guilty about the impulse to come to the aid of the postillion. “Go and assist him. I’ll be fine.” To prove her point, she edged away from his hold.
She nodded at him when he gave her another glance, and then he strode toward where Green worked with the animals. In the midst of this freezing chaos, his concern for both her and the others warmed her.
As Wiggins and Beatrice waited, the coachman said to her, “Awful sorry, my lady.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” She spread her hands. “This is in the hands of a greater power, and I doubt She even gave us a moment’s consideration.”
“She, my lady?”
