Page 62 of Never Tempt a Scot
“Lysandra’s mother is here with my father?” Lydia said in excitement. She turned to Brodie and clasped one of his hands in hers. “Oh please, let me go and see them.”
“No.” The word slipped out before he had time to think it through. But now that it was said, he wouldn’t change his mind.
“What? Why not?” Lydia demanded. “I can put them at ease, he can see that I’m safe, and he can take me home—”
“I saidno, lass. I won’t say it again.”
Her lovely blue eyes filled with confusion. “Are you going to see him, then? Please be careful—my father may react poorly, and I do not wish either of you to be hurt.”
“I will not see your father, and neither will you.” Brodie didn’t want Hunt taking his daughter back, for more reasons than his own selfishness.
Lydia didn’t see what Brodie did. That she was too sweet, too compassionate to put her own needs and desires first, which meant she would never make demands on her father for the love and affection she needed. While Brodie could not say he loved her, he could give her all the attention and affection she needed.
He also had no desire to face down her angry father. The man would no doubt challenge him to a duel, and Brodie was still furious enough because of Hunt’s actions toward him that he would no doubt accept. So it was far better if all parties kept their distance.
“Brodie, he’s myfather.” Lydia’s reply was quiet, but there was a dangerous edge of defiance to her tone that warned him she wasn’t going to let this matter go.
“He’s also the man who had me drugged and kidnapped and intended to drag me in front of a priest at the barrel of a pistol.”
“You cannot keep me from him.”
“I can, lass. You’re mine, dinna forget that. I dinna want you to see that man, and I dinna want to see him either.”
Rafe’s brows rose in surprise as Brodie and Lydia squared off, but he did not intervene.
“You do notownme,” Lydia warned. “If I wish to see him, I will.” She snatched the paper from Rafe’s hand and glanced at the address Lady Rochester had provided the butler. “I assume this is not too far from here, Mr. Lennox?”
“Er ...” Rafe shot a glance at Brodie. “Not far, but—”
“Thank you. I will see you gentlemen in a few hours.” She started toward the door, but Brodie caught her by the wrist, pulling her to a halt. “Let go!” she shouted.
“No,” Brodie growled. “You will go and wait for me upstairs.”
“I will see my father first. He must be worried sick about me.”
“I doubt that, lass. I know that he cares little for you.” The second his words registered with her, he saw the violent flash of pain it caused. He hadn’t meant to. He wanted her to stay—he needed her to.
“He cares,” Lydia insisted. “Why else would he be here?”
“To retrieve me again for your sister?”
She looked as though he had slapped her. He wished he could take the words back, but it was too late.
“You ... You know the truth, then?” Her lips trembled, and she looked at Rafe. “Did you finally tell him?”
Rafe shrugged. “The old boy discovered it on his own. Imagine that.”
“And even knowing that you’ve ruined an innocent woman, you still won’t let me leave?” Lydia asked Brodie.
“It isna so simple as that, lass.”
“Yes, it isabsolutelythat simple.” She tried again to free herself from his unrelenting hold. “Let go of me, Mr. Kincade!”
Even as she rightfully raged at him, she was so bloody beautiful. And that was why he had to protect her, even if she hated him for it.
“Stop fussing. I don’t have the patience for it tonight.” He needed time to think. To sort things out.
She stomped her booted foot on his in an attempt to kick him, but he barely felt it through his thick boots.
