Page 40 of Never Tempt a Scot
“We have an owl, a tawny one about the size of a pigeon. It made a nest in one of the taller bookshelves in our library. He’s a pretty fellow, very friendly. And then Aiden has a pair of otters, a pine marten, and a hedgehog.”
Lydia couldn’t resist smiling. “My, that is a lot of beasties.”
“They give him comfort. Our father” Brodie stopped speaking abruptly.
“What about your father?” Lydia scooted closer, sensing that whatever he had been about to say was a deep confession of something.
“My father was a brutal man, especially after our mother died.” He turned his shoulder to show her the scars on his back.
Lydia covered her mouth with one hand and reached out with the other to touch his skin. He didn’t flinch, but instead held very still while her fingers traced the knotted scars along his otherwise perfect, muscular back.
“How did he ...?” The words died on her tongue as she imagined how a man would make these marks, but she couldn’t fathom how any father could do that to his child.
“I was a fair bit younger, and he was strong. All of us felt his wrath at one point or another, but Aiden bore the worst. He was the smallest, aside from our sister, Rosalind. We all took as many beatings as we could to protect her. I managed to escape most days, but not Brock and Aiden. They wouldna leave Rosalind.” He looked down at his feet. “I was acoward.”
“Surviving doesn’t make you a coward, Brodie.”
Brodie dragged a hand through his hair and looked at her. “You called me Brodie.”
“Yes, I shouldn’t have, Mr. Kin”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. “You must call me Brodie. I insist.” He fixed her with a possessive stare.
“Really, I cannot”
“You can and will. You have shared my bed, and you belong to me. You will call me Brodie.” There was a warning in his tone that she was not foolish enough to ignore.
“Very well ... Brodie.”
“Now, ’tis time to bathe. I’ll have them bring the bathwater up.” He left the bed, and Lydia covered her eyes. Well, she tried to. It was hard not to at least risk a peek at him. She parted her fingers and stared at his mostly naked body. His legs were thick and muscled, but also long enough with his great height to look perfectly proportioned.
She knew some men would actually put sawdust or other fillers in their stockings to make their calves bigger. In fact, at a ball once she’d seen an older man who had stuffed his stockings in such a way. She only learned this because the sawdust had come loose onto the floor around him as he walked, and it had become obvious to everyone what he had done. Lydia had helped conceal his legs with her skirts while she escorted him to one of the withdrawing rooms, where he had a chance to fix his appearance. But the gentleman had been so embarrassed that he had decided to go home.
Brodie interrupted her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” He’d put on a pair of buckskin trousers and his dressing gown.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
He raised a brow but didn’t demand any answers. He left the room, and she took a moment to search her own luggage for a dressing gown. Thankfully, Portia had thought of that—or more likely, her maid had.
Poor Phyllis. She must be so afraid. Mr. Annis would have told the entire household what had happened by now. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father had done in response. Had he gone to the local magistrate? Had he pursued her himself? She hoped so, but what if he caught up to them and challenged Brodie to a duel?He might die.The thought made her sick, and she bent over, trying to quell the sudden unease of her stomach.
The door to their room opened, and Brodie returned, followed by a pretty young maid, who set a tray down on the table in the center of the room. “A bit of breakfast, miss?”
Lydia wasn’t exactly hungry now, but the buttered toast and muffins did look good. Brodie watched her take one and nibble on it. The maid soon returned with a fresh pot of tea, and after an admiring look at Brodie, she left them alone.
Brodie nodded at the tray. “Eat.”
“I am.” Lydia held up the half-eaten muffin.
“Eatmore. You’re too thin, lass. A man likes a bit to hold on to when he makes love.”
Lydia frowned at him, then at the muffin she was just starting to enjoy. Her temper, which so rarely flared, now erupted. She threw the muffin straight at his head. Unlike her punches, she was a far better thrower, and he caught the muffin right in the face.
“You shouldna do that, lass. I have a temper to match your own,” he warned as he wiped crumbs off his cheek.
“Don’t say such things! You keep reminding me that I am some common woman for you to use.”
Brodie’s eyes twinkled. “You’re wrong, lass. I wouldna treat a common woman this way.”
