Page 26 of Never Tempt a Scot
“Cornelia, I think Portia should partake of the ocean air in Brighton. Would you be willing to escort her there? I will have the arrangements made in a few hours.”
“I would be glad to, but what will you do?” Cornelia asked.
“Find and rescue my daughter, even if it means facing down a very large and rightfully angry Scotsman.”
7
Brodie was in a black mood that afternoon as they journeyed toward the next coaching inn. He’d gone from loathing her, to desiring revenge against her, to simply desiring her, all in the span of a single night and day. He didn’t know if it was because Rafe’s blasted wager had made her a forbidden temptation or if her pleas of innocence straddled the line between believable and intolerable. The link between anger and arousal was a strange but real one, and he needed to be careful that he did not act in poor judgment because of it.
Yet all he wanted now was to take Lydia to bed and give in to his mad desires. But he’d kept his restraint, not only because of the wager, but because it was right. Yet here she was resisting his suggestions, and she even dared to demand fair treatment as a proper mistress.
The nerve. Given what she and her father had done to him, she didn’t deserve fairness, yet he would give it to her, and that made him feel fairly disagreeable. Neither Rafe nor either of their valets had volunteered to accompany him inside after they saw Brodie’s thunderous expression. So now Brodie and his captive were trapped inside the coach alone. After half an hour, he noted she wasn’t reading her book.
“Miss Hunt,” he said. She’d been frozen on the same page all this time, her gaze distant. He was curious to know what she was thinking about and what manipulations she was planning next.
She finally looked his way, and those soft blue eyes held him, calmed him in a way he hadn’t expected. “Yes?”
“You’ve not been reading.”
“Yes, I have.” She held upPark’s Travels in Africa.
“You havena turned a page in quite a while.”
A faint shade of rose tinged her cheeks. “I was just thinking ...”
“About what?”
“Mr. Park was Scottish. Did you know that?” she asked suddenly.
“Was he?” Brodie leaned forward a little. He hadn’t had a chance to read the book yet. He had only purchased it recently. He loved to read, and it had always haunted him that he hadn’t been able to rescue the books from their library back in Castle Kincade when his father began selling everything they owned to keep the castle. When he had seen Park’s book in the bookshop, he’d desperately wanted to read it. Yet part of him had felt rather unsatisfied knowing he would never have adventures like Park. He would never see the world or live a remarkable life. The book seemed to haunt him with the promise of a life he couldn’t live.
“Well, he was Scottish.” Lydia turned a few pages, as if reviewing them. “He writes dispassionately about all that he sees, yet beneath that there is an undeniable curiosity about Africa, its lands and its people. He offers a beautiful glimpse into Africa’s complexity and humanity. He even details hundreds of languages and the customs of many tribes who live there.”
Lydia was almost smiling as she spoke. For a minute, Brodie forgot about the gulf that lay between them. He forgot that he did not trust her or she him and that they were linked by scandal.
“Would you ever go to Africa?” he asked her.
“I believe I would, actually.” Her sudden, unguarded smile made his pulse quicken. “I would sail from Portsmouth to Gambia and venture into the wilds there. It would be dangerous, especially for a woman, but if I could find an exploration party who would let me come, I would join it.”
“Really?” Brodie pictured Lydia wearing breeches, her hair pulled into a tail at the nape of her neck as she sailed into the Congo in a shallow boat while watching a red-gold horizon. It was a breathtaking vision.
“Would you?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said. “If I was able.”
“Are you not able?” Lydia tilted her head as she closed the book and set it on her lap.
“I wasn’t, not for a long time. Until recently, my family faced difficult days. We struggled to keep our home. It’s only now that we are more able to do the things we longed to do for years.”
“Your brother married Joanna Lennox, didn’t he?” She was being polite by asking, even though she knew the answer. “I’ve heard it was a bit scandalous. There was talk of Gretna Green and a mad chase by Joanna’s older brother and his friends, the League of Rogues.”
“Aye, Brock did marry Joanna. Do you know her?”
“Yes, we’re friends. But I admit I’ve not seen her in some months.”
“I don’t think she would be friends with the likes of you.” Brodie leaned back and stroked his chin. He wanted to push her, to test her limits.
“What do you mean by that?”
