Page 11 of The Wrong Bride
“I’ve never slept overnight in a coach,” she protested.
“Ye did last night, and ye’re about to do it again,” he said with a sigh. “Ye’re dry and sheltered. Be grateful. I’ll try to keep to my side of the coach and not be overcome by lust for ye.”
“Warn me so I can keep my eyes closed,” Samuel said.
Hugh kept his expression impassive, although it was difficult. He was wet and chilly and tired. Riona had done her best to annoy him all afternoon, and she could certainly continue by forcing him to stay awake.
“There are blankets beneath my bench,” she said stiffly. “I’m cold.”
“Then fetch them,” he said with exasperation.
And that was an error in judgment on boththeir parts. She was forced to stand, turn her back to them, and bend over. Without hoops, her skirts fell gently along the curve of her hips. Swallowing, Hugh glanced at Samuel, who pointedly turned and stared out the window as darkness descended.
Right in front of him, Riona’s hips swayed as she rummaged in the compartment. Hugh could have put his hands on them and—
She straightened up, dropped the bench, and sank back on it. Clutching several blankets to her, she eyed the men skeptically, as if they would take them from her.
Hugh was too busy trying to forget that she would be his wife in but a few weeks; he was supposed to have patience. Instead he watched as she moved about and tried to get comfortable, feeling reluctantly aroused and frustrated.
“I don’t like leaving my post,” Samuel said at last, squinting through the narrow slit of the window. “We’re unprotected like this.”
“The spot ye’ve chosen to hide is well concealed,” Hugh answered. “We can afford to sleep a bit until the rain ebbs. No highwayman will risk getting his powder wet. Then we’ll start a fire and warm up.”
Samuel looked unconvinced, but Hugh forced his eyes closed, determined not to think of Riona. He’d just met her, and already she exercised far too much control over his thoughts. She was spirited and defiant, exasperating and sympathetic, and shewas far too alluring for his peace of mind. But it wasn’t just a surface beauty. There was something about her that made it obvious she undervalued herself. It was rare that a beautiful woman did not know and use her powers over men, but he suspected Riona incapable of that.
He was not a man given to rushing to judgment, so he silently warned himself to take a step away and remain objective.
From beneath his lashes, he studied her hungrily again. He wanted her for his own—he wanted her to wanthimin return, but didn’t know how to make it happen. He suspected being forced to kidnap her might be hard to overcome . . .
CHAPTER 4
Riona awoke and for a moment, didn’t know where she was. She was lying cramped across something hard, where she couldn’t stretch her legs. She wasn’t cold, for a rough wool blanket covered her, and another was pillowed beneath her head.
With a gasp, she sat up, remembering everything. Her kidnapping, her aborted escape, having to try to sleep with two large Highlanders snoring mere feet away from her.
But she was alone now, although the coach wasn’t moving. Light filtered in the slit of a window, and she tried the door handle with little hope. To her surprise it opened easily, and she distinguished muted voices outside. She ducked her head out, and they saw her at once. Both men were sitting on logs before the fire, dressed in only their shirtsleeves and breeches. Their stockings and coats were spread across other logs, steaming damply in the heat.
“Lady Riona,” McCallum said, coming to his feet. “Samuel has made porridge for breakfast.”
“I smell . . . ham,” she said with hesitation.
“I rode to a nearby farmer and bought more provisions. We have eggs, too.”
“Eggs,” Samuel repeated with satisfaction, looking at the griddle where several fried.
“Come out, Lady Riona,” McCallum said, “as long as ye promise not to run.”
“I promise not to run during breakfast,” she amended, stepping down from the coach.
He eyed her, and again, she thought his mouth quirked in a smile—or she could be imagining it. Hugh McCallum didn’t smile. He believed the weight of the world, or at least his clan, was upon his shoulders, and he would do anything he wanted in the name of that clan. If any of this entire story were even true. Maybe it was an elaborate scheme to get her dowry. She was too hungry to debate the notion for long.
Soon, they were on their way north again, and this time McCallum drove first, and Samuel sat across from her in the coach. Though the sun occasionally peeked out from behind clouds, the road was far worse after the rain, and occasionally the wheels caught in the mud, or McCallum was forced to drive along the rough edge of the road to avoid the holes. Riona often found herself holding on to the bench with whitened fingers to keep frombeing flung to the ground. Good thing she had a strong stomach, or she’d have lost her breakfast. But always, they continued the slow, steady progression, the coach climbing higher by slight degrees.
By late morning, she thought she’d go out of her mind with boredom, and was trying to think of irritating ways to annoy McCallum with requests, when the coach slowed down.
Samuel stiffened. “He said he’d drive until midday.”
“Stand and deliver!” cried a man’s unfamiliar voice.
