Page 30 of Never Kiss a Scot
Brock laughed, beginning to relax. “I agree to those terms.”
Joanna rolled her eyes and sighed. “You know that I am right here. What if I don’t wish to sleep alone?”
Falworth and Amberly fixed their gazes elsewhere, and Amberly whistled softly.
“No,” Rafe said at the same time as Brock said, “Not tonight, lass.”
Joanna glowered. “You’re not my favorite brother anymore, Rafe.” She wanted Brock to be with her. Was it possible after only two nights to need a man so fiercely, the way she needed him?
Rafe snorted. “I shall always be your favorite brother because I’m the one who let you run away to Scotland. Remember that.”
Brock laughed again, even though it made his head ache. “We appreciate the help. I dinna want to risk taking her down the Great North Road. Your brother would expect me to take her to the inns along the way. We’ve been bedding down beneath the stars instead.”
“Joanna? Sleeping outside?” Rafe suddenly laughed. “I can’t believe it, but I suppose we did find you in a cave.”
Joanna bristled, hating that Rafe was making her out to be such a delicate creature.
“She’s a strong lass. She’s made not a single complaint since we left.” Brock smiled at her with such pride that a wave of heat flooded her body, and she had to shyly look away.
“Well, do you wish to eat? Or sleep?”
“I’m fine for now. Joanna?” Brock asked.
She’d had plenty to eat earlier with Brock and didn’t want him to think he hadn’t given her enough. Men could be quite silly when it came to matters of pride.
“I’m ready to go to retire for the evening.”
“Then take my room whenever you like.” Rafe retrieved several bedrolls and put them on the floor. Falworth and Amberly tossed dice to see who would take the other bedchamber. Falworth won, and Amberly stalked over to his bedroll, muttering. Then Brock and Rafe arranged their sleeping places, with Rafe closest to Joanna’s door. She longed to speak to Brock, to say something to him, but all she dared to whisper was a good night.
She turned to the small bed in the bedchamber and removed her cloak. With no maid to assist her, she would sleep in her gown yet again. She was too tired to care tonight, but tomorrow she would be rather cantankerous if she didn’t have a chance for a bath and a change of clothes.
She pulled the bedclothes up around her and collapsed on the feather tick mattress, uncaring that the fire in the bedchamber was dying out. She had only to face one more night, and then she and Brock would be husband and wife. They would be free to stay in a cozy inn without fear of being stopped by Ashton. She burrowed deep into the blankets, her eyelids too heavy to resist sleep.
Just outside she could hear the murmur of masculine voices, Brock’s seductive brogue among them. Strangely, in a hunting lodge full of highwaymen, she felt incredibly safe. Safe enough to quickly fall into a dreamless sleep.
11
Brock took a small bite of mutton from a plate on the table. He had decided to eat a little once he and Rafe started talking. He was still too wound up to sleep right away, even though he knew he needed his rest if they were to finish their mad dash to Gretna Green.
“You’ll have to move fast tomorrow,” Rafe said as though reading his mind.
Brock leaned back in his chair. “Aye. I’m planning on your brother being right on our heels. If we’d had a coach, I would’ve changed horses every four hours the entire way without stopping, but I couldna risk taking the main road.”
Rafe chuckled. “You’re smarter than I would’ve expected.” Brock was struck by the similarities between Rafe and Ashton. In looks alone, the two men were close enough to be twins, yet despite the years between them, they couldn’t have been more different in their manners and thoughts.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Lennox.” Brock smiled at Rafe, and they shared another bit of the fine whiskey Falworth had acquired.
Rafe nudged his glass on the rough-hewn wood of the table with a single finger, seeming to be deep in contemplation before he spoke.
“You do have an affection for her, don’t you? I need to know this isn’t just about money.”
Brock knew the truth mattered, and he was not about to lie.
“I admit, knowing she has money helps. Men in our position canna help but consider that sort of thing. But when I first laid eyes upon her, all I could think was that she was the bonniest lass I’d ever seen.” He thought back to that first night with her and smiled. “I was there to rescue Rosalind, before we realized she didn’t need rescuing, but instead I find this wee blonde angel with a book, wearing a tartan shawl and sitting rosy-cheeked by the fire. It made my heart soar at the sight of her. I didna know she was your sister—I only knew I wanted her. That didna change when I learned who she was.”
“So it’s her looks that matter to you? Looks fade, old boy,” Rafe pointed out shrewdly.
“They do, but kindness of the heart doesna fade. She offered me her book, wanted to know if I was hungry and if I needed a bedchamber prepared. She didna know who I was or why I was there, only that I was Rosalind’s brother. Such kindness, such an open heart. I want that in a wife.” As he spoke, he came to a sudden realization. What had drawn him to Joanna was indeed her heart, her kindness, which was so like his own mother’s.
