Page 25 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

“There is still hurt and resentment on both sides, Abbie. Something that we need to come to terms with. The edge in your voice proves my point.”

She sighed. “Yes, you’re right. You’ve apologized for the way that you treated me, the things you’ve said. Allow me to do the same. I should have told you that I was with child…”

“You had sound reasons not to contact me. I understand them, but as I said, hurt and resentment lingers.”

“You blasted, stubborn man, can you at least allow me to finish? Everything that happened between us was because of your obstinate nature and your unnatural belief in your family’s curse,” she snapped irritably.

“Me, stubborn? Good God, lass, look in a mirror. You refused to tell your parents who the father was. And you refused to contact me.”

“You’re making me cross, and I don’t wish to be. We were both at fault—too young, too stubborn, and far too emotional.” Abbie gave him a stern look. “And we are picking up right where we left off.”

Garrett grabbed her reins. “I ask you once again: Why are you here? What do you want? For us to pretend the past fourteen years did not happen? To pretend we did not do and say things that cut so deeply we both carry scars to this day?” He pulled her closer, until the horses were barely inches apart. Patriot shook his head and whinnied. “Do you want us to continue where we left off, indulging in a passion so fierce it scorched us both?” The last words were whispered in her ear, his voice husky and his emotions raw.

Abbie blinked, her eyes glistening. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“I don’t accept your irresolute reply. You came to me. You want me. Say it.” He pulled on the reins. “Because it can’t be half as much as I want you.”

“Garrett…”

“Mama, are you coming?” Megan called out.

Hell. He released the reins and turned Patriot about. As Abbie had stated, this was far too emotional. He’d better get a handle on things, or this situation would spin out of control. Blast it, it had already.

* * * *

The Marquess of Sutherhorne watched the affecting encounter through his opera glasses with a good deal of amusement. The Scottish beast acting emotional in a woman’s presence: what a delight to the imagination. The marquess was far enough away, hidden in a cluster of oak and beech trees to ensure he could not be seen. “Delaney, who is the lady?”

His hired man sat upon a horse next to him. “Not sure, my lord. Do you wish me to find out?”

He lowered the glasses. “Yes. Find out her name and where she comes from, and the flame-haired chit with them. It might prove to be useful in my scheming.”

“What about the schoolmaster?” Delaney asked. “Any plans for retribution there?”

Sutherhorne glanced at him. He had recently employed Delaney after observing him as a participant in a brutal bare-knuckle fight, and later performing sexually with another man at a brothel. Both acts were illegal, but Sutherhorne saw Delaney as a man after his own heart. He liked to inflict pain on other men as much as Sutherhorne enjoyed watching it. A particular personality quirk he’d discovered during his youth at Eton.

He’d also hired him for protection. No man would ever lay a hand on him again with Delaney hovering nearby. The boxer stood nearly as tall as the Scottish beast. If Wollstonecraft ever threatened him again, he would unleash his own animal, and enjoy watching the spectacle. What had Delaney asked? Ah yes, the schoolmaster.

“I am not concerned with Riordan Wollstonecraft at the moment,” Sutherhorne stated. “He threatened me verbally, but the loutish uncle?” He pointed toward Garrett Wollstonecraft. “He had the audacity to manhandle me, and he must answer for it. I haven’t decided how yet. I will head to London in my carriage. You stay. Discover what you can and join me afterward.”

He paused, watching Wollstonecraft and the woman head toward the stables. “If needs must, we will return in a timely fashion. Meanwhile, stay out of sight. Wollstonecraft saw you at the Debtor’s Court; he knows you are connected to me.”

“As you say, my lord.”

They turned and headed toward Sevenoaks. It was not as if Sutherhorne believed in cold-blooded murder—that particular response would be exaggerated for the insult he’d endured. But he would come up with something adequate to satisfy his lust for revenge.

Sutherhorne’s eyes narrowed as he stared across the horizon. The entire family had to be taught a lesson. How dare they interfere in his plans of obtaining the woman he’d desired for the past eleven years? It still galled him that Sabrina Durning Lakeside threw him over for a lowly schoolmaster. Him, a marquess and a close advisor to Prince Albert. Granted, the schoolmaster turned out to be the grandson of an earl, but the insult stood nonetheless.

Now Sabrina was married to the beast’s nephew. Sutherhorne smiled cruelly, as he’d already found satisfaction in exacting a certain sort of retribution by proxy, and because of it, may not even bother with the schoolmaster and his bitch bride. Yes, he’d managed to soothe his ache for revenge on that score.

His thoughts drifted to the party he and had Delaney attended in London last month. A truly wicked and corrupt affair, with vices of all sorts available for consumption. When a rather motley crew announced they had an earl’s heir to sell, Sutherhorne could not resist. He started when the cockeyed, disheveled young man stepped forward. The schoolmaster!

Then he took a second look and recalled that Carnstone had paternal twin grandsons. Ah yes. The black sheep. The look was similar, but not the same. No names were offered, but it hardly mattered. The wraith-like wreck wore the stamp of a Wollstonecraft, with his dark hair and startling light blue eyes.

This would be part of his vengeance on the smug, arrogant family. Destroy the heir. Once one hundred pounds had exchanged hands, he’d turned the sickly looking heir over to Delaney’s ministrations—while he watched. Sutherhorne himself never participated in these illegal physical acts, but he did quite enjoy observing.

Regardless, how to exact the rest of his vengeance on the red-haired brute would require further thought.

But it would be soon. Very soon.