Page 88 of Never Tempt a Scot
“You devil!” She gasped and fought against his imprisoning hold because she wanted to touch him, to grip him while he tortured her with his sinful mouth.
“Be still, my wee captive. I’ll take you as I please.” He laughed so mockingly she almost laughed as well, but she was too desperate for him now. The sudden sound of a footstep and a cold voice froze her and Brodie in place.
“Release my sister, or I swear I will kill you.”
Brodie started to move.
“Slowly, or I’ll shoot.”
Lydia peered over Brodie’s shoulder to see a bedraggled boy covered in dust, aiming a flintlock pistol at Brodie’s back. Lydia recognized the face. It wasn’t a boy at all. “Portia, no!”
Brodie spun, taking Portia to the ground just as the gun went off with a loud crack.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” Brodie snarled at Portia. “You could have killed her!”
“You monster!” Portia screamed. “I was saving her from you!”
Lydia scrambled to her knees and pulled on Brodie’s shoulder.
“Let her go, Brodie. She thought you were hurting me.”
Brodie slowly released Portia. He got to his feet and helped Lydia up.
Portia was breathing hard as she stood. “Lydia, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Portia. Why on earth are you wearing men’s clothing? And where is Papa? Is he with you?”
“I’m alone,” Portia replied sullenly. “After you were taken, Papa sent me to Brighton with Aunt Cornelia. I escaped, dressed like a boy, and traveled on the Royal Mail coaches to Edinburgh. Then I hired a coach to the village nearby and had to walk the rest of the way.” She smacked her breeches, which were covered with dirt.
Lydia couldn’t help but stare at her little sister. Gone was the perfect beauty. Her sister was bedraggled, filthy, and looked ready to collapse.
Brodie picked the pistol up from the ground and tucked it behind his back in the waistband of his trousers.
“Portia, dear, you look exhausted.”
“I am,” Portia admitted. “But I had to save you.” Her eyes shot to Brodie. “He truly wasn’t trying to hurt you?”
“What? No.” Lydia rushed to reassure her.
“But he kidnapped you with a knife to your throat. I couldn’t stop thinking about how frightened you must have been. All because I was so foolish.” Portia’s voice shook, full of desperation and panic in a way Lydia had never heard before.
Lydia clasped her sister’s hands in hers. “Yes, there was a bit of a misunderstanding at the beginning, but not anymore. We’ve both grown to care about each other.”
Brodie crossed his arms over his chest, scowling at Portia. Lydia put herself between her lover and her sister, just in case things got out of hand.
“You have quite the nerve to come here acting like the injured party, lass,” he said to Portia. “Let’s not forget who kidnapped whom first. Who lied about being with child. You owe me one hell of an apology.”
Portia’s eyes narrowed. “I amsorryI thought you would be a good husband. I’m certainlysorryfor convincing my father to catch you and bring you home to me. I’msorryyou were such a foolish man to mistake my sister for me.”
Lydia covered her face with her hands. That wasn’t an apology, and she was certain Brodie would be furious.
“Fine. I accept. Now, you can return to the castle with us, rest for a day, and we will see you to a coach and send you home to Bath.”
“What?” Portia snapped. “Did you not hear the part of my story where I fled my aunt in Brighton? Papa isn’t in Bath. He went after you! I have no one to return to.”
“That isna my problem,” Brodie snapped back. “You found your way here on your own—I’m certain you can survive alone in a fancy house in Bath.”
Lydia grasped Brodie’s arm. “Please don’t send her away just yet. We need to discover where my father is on his way to the Isle of Skye and perhaps we can find a way to send her to him.”
