Page 20 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Four

Technically, Erroll hadn’t agreed to kidnap Miss Crenshaw. Yet the warmth of her fingers beneath his conjured the picture of her lying on the cushion of his carriage, hands tied and bound to the door, and eyes blindfolded as they raced into the night. His carriage stood outside. All he had to do was get her inside and he would have her exactly where he’d envisioned having her since he’d leaned over her bed and her breast brushed his chest. Erroll nearly laughed. There was no other answer. He’d lost his mind. He would have her where he wanted her—without the trip to Gretna Green and quite willingly, if he wasn’t mistaken.

He had done a little investigating and found that five years ago the lady had eloped. The prospective groom’s father caught up with them before the marriage took place but, as was so often the case, the wedding night had preceded the vows. Lord Harrison Blane claimed she was pregnant with his child. Time passed and no child appeared, but the accusation was enough to brand her an undesirable bride. A fact that was sure to work in his favor.

Erroll straightened from his bow, placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and faced Somerset. “It almost seems you intended to take advantage of my future wife. But that cannot be the case.”

Miss Crenshaw gave a soft gasp and he only half regretted his stupidity. If he could hear her gasp in that fashion while he moved inside her, it would be worth the thrashing his father administered once they broke their connection. She had no more desire to marry him than he did to marry her. In the end, she could cry off, and they would both go their merry ways; her, the wounded lady, and him, the same rakehell he’d been all along.

Somerset’s eyes narrowed.

Erroll had seen that look before. “Really, Somerset, does the lady look as though she is being held against her will?”

He released the hand that held her fingers around his arm. She didn’t pull away. Very good. Now what would it take to induce her to stroll with him in the gardens? That, Erroll decided, would be the challenge—and the fun—of the chase and, who knew, they might slake their desire even quicker than he’d anticipated.

“She is too much of a lady to show her agitation,” Somerset said through tight lips.

“Rest assured, I am not a prisoner,” she said in a no nonsense tone that made Erroll want to laugh. That she had no fear of him, he found intriguing.

Somerset wasn’t afraid of him, either, and that could present a problem. Dueling over a woman was bad business. Erroll had no intention of turning a simple affaires de coeur into a drama that might exile him to one of their homes in Scotland, or worse, to France. Neither had he any intention of giving up the chase.

He looked down at Miss Crenshaw who, as he’d noticed upon first seeing her, looked beautiful in olive green velvet. The dress would have appeared modest on any other woman, but the bodice simply couldn’t contain her breasts, and the rise of creamy flesh that spilled over the top of the lace hardened Erroll’s resolve—and his cock—to taste her sweet charms.

“Would you like lemonade, my dear?” he asked.

Surprise flickered in her eyes, then they narrowed almost imperceptivity. She may not be afraid of him, but she didn’t trust him. She wasn’t stupid. Unexpectedly, her expression turned sweet, and Erroll was pleased to realize she had no more taste for duels than he did.

She inclined her head. “That would be lovely, my lord.”

“Somerset.” Erroll gave him a slight nod, then started away with her.

“I am here if you need me, Eve.”

Erroll paused and looked at her. “Do you need him, my dear?”

“I am quite well, thank you.”

Erroll shifted his gaze to the earl. “She does not need you, Somerset. By the by, I expect from now on, you will not be so familiar with my future wife.”

Miss Crenshaw’s fingers tightened around his arm and he agreed with the sentiment he knew the action betrayed. He’d done it again; called her his future wife.

*****

Eve walked from the alcove on shaky legs. What had gone wrong with her plan? Why wasn’t Lord Rushton on his way to Gretna Green? A hint of fatigue beneath his eyes caught her attention and she wondered if he had attended other parties before finding her here. His direct manner inside the alcove gave her the feeling that he’d been searching for her. She recalled his wound and realized his leg might be worse than he’d let on.

“How is your leg, sir?”

He looked at her. “Are you sorry you shot me?”

She waited until they sidestepped two gentlemen in their path, then said, “You deserved it. But I am sorry. The shot alerted the innkeeper and maids to our altercation. Things would have been much easier had they not seen the mess with their own eyes.”

“So you do not regret so much shooting me, as the fact it got us caught.”

She gave an impatient shake of her head. “I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“How fortunate for me.”

“Why someone did not shoot you long ago defies belief.”