The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (3 page)

“Um, yes, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze falling to her hand. “What are you doing with that rope?”

Her heart leapt nervously. She’d forgotten she was holding it. “Oh! It’s for …my trunks…to fasten them to the carriage more securely.”

He gave her a quizzical look but didn’t press any further. “Just be sure you and Evelyn are ready to leave.”

She smiled sweetly. If her plan was successful, they wouldn’t be returning to London until next week. “I’m already packed.”
So I may kidnap you and spirit you away as quickly as possible.
“Shall Evelyn and I meet you outside in say…a quarter of an hour?”

“Yes,” he said. “Have your trunks brought down. The carriage is out front.”

Gwen nodded as Matthias lingered a moment. Their gazes caught and held and for a brief moment, she felt all the air leave her lungs. Then just as quickly the moment was gone. He brushed past her and into the taproom to search out the innkeeper.

Upstairs, she knocked on Evelyn’s door, but there was no answer. She and the blacksmith must already be gone in search of Stephen and Emily.

Capital
. It would make things much easier with them out of the way.

With only minutes to spare, Gwen set about finding someone to bring down her trunks. Once that small task was completed, she ordered a hot toddy, slipped a few drops of the apothecary’s brew into it, and carried it out to the waiting carriage.

Outside, Matthias was leaning against the carriage, reading a missive. He looked up, his countenance confused and slightly agitated as she approached. “Where is Evelyn?”

“She is on her way,” Gwen lied. She glanced at the missive in his hand. “Is that a letter? How on earth did the post find you here?”

“It was delivered to me yesterday morning. I shoved it my jacket pocket and forgot about it until this moment.”

“It isn’t distressing news, I hope.”

“It is from a solicitor in Cheapside. Apparently, I am now the new earl of Hastings,” he said flatly.

She blinked several times, struggling to process what he’d just said. “You…
what
?”

“It appears my great uncle has died with no issue. The title would have fallen to my cousin, but it seems he was quite careless with his mortality and found himself on the wrong end of a dueling pistol.” He folded the letter and placed it back in his jacket with a sigh. “He was always tediously melodramatic.”

“You are an earl now. You don’t sound pleased.”

“It doesn’t yet seem real.”

Could things possibly get any more complicated? Now not only was she kidnapping a gentleman, she was kidnapping an
earl.

Capital.

Glancing down at her hands, she realized she still held the mug. “Oh! I brought you something warm to drink.”

He stared at her blankly. “Thank you, I am not thirsty.”

Drat!

Gwen pushed out her bottom lip in a feigned pout. “I had it especially made for you. Might as well drink it while we’re waiting for Evelyn to arrive.” She held it out to him. “Come now, it will do you good.”

His handsome face scrunched in annoyance. Taking the drink, he tipped his head back…

“Oh!” She lurched forward. “No, no, not that quickly—” But it was too late. He’d already swallowed the entire contents. He handed the mug back to her.

She peered into the now-empty mug and prayed Matthias hadn’t drunk the sleeping tonic too quickly. The apothecary had warned Gwen of the tonic’s potency, had she not?

Seconds later, Matthias smiled at her—that beautiful smile that had enslaved every woman in London between the ages of fourteen and forty. Including her. “You were quite right, Gwen. That toddy…” His large, muscular body began leaning to the right. “…was just the thing.”

Oh, dear God. He was going to topple over. Opening the carriage door, she shoved him inside, following after him. She settled into the seat across from him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m…feeling…excellent…” Each word was drawn out languidly. He smiled, and then his eyes narrowed in focus. “But the question is, how are
you
feeling?”

Oh, dear. Perhaps she’d given him too much.

“I am well, thank you…” She drew in a breath. “Wait here a moment, will you?”

He nodded, and then leaned back against the squabs—closing his eyes. “Bring me another toddy, if you would be so kind...”

“Yes, of course.” She opened the carriage door and stepped outside. The driver was sitting atop the carriage, waiting for instruction to depart.

“Hello,” she whispered harshly, lest Matthias hear her from inside the carriage. “Driver.” His focus turned her way, and he smiled, tipping his hat. “We will not be going to London, after all. Please take us in the opposite direction, to the most remote hamlet you know of.”

He lifted a brow skeptically. “Mr. Smith was quite insistent on London.”

“Yes, there’s been a change of plans. Mr.
Smith
is…indisposed at the moment, but he has asked me to inform you of the change.”

Fear twisted in her stomach. If he refused, her plan would fall apart. Happily, in the end, he shrugged and reached for the reins. “It’s no matter to me either way.”

Relief washed over her. “Excellent. Thank you.”

Climbing back into the carriage, she rapped on the roof and the rig jolted sharply into motion—tossing her back against the squabs.

Matthias lifted his head and smiled at Gwen. “Alone again,” he drawled in that husky, darkly seductive tone.

She and Matthias had been acquainted precisely three years, twenty-one days and some odd hours…not that she’d been counting. In all that time, she’d known him to be a dissolute rake—setting his sights on a different actress or widow every week. Some men drank, some gambled…but nothing seemed to please Matthias more than women. And they, it seemed, were more than happy to entertain his every whim.

But after that first moment at the fountain, never had his rakish gaze drifted to
her
. Not that she had
wanted
it to, mind. And if she’d spent any time at all wishing he would notice her, then it was the result of a fever or some other such malady. She was far too sensible to fall for such a man.

Right now, however, his attention was most certainly fixed on her, and a little jolt of misplaced excitement tripped up her spine. His gaze wandered over her languidly, causing her heart to stutter. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, unused to such attention—from him, at least.

“It will be quite some time before we reach our destination,” she said evenly. “Perhaps you should try and get some rest.”

His eyes narrowed, and his lazy countenance shifted into something more…predatory. Sitting up slowly, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. The edges of his lips twisted up into a smile. “Perhaps I would rest easier beside you.”

Oh!
“That wouldn’t be proper.”

His hand found her knee, and he began caressing it gently. She jumped at the tingles that swept though her, but in such a small compartment, there was nowhere to escape.

“Why wouldn’t it?” He drawled. “I’ve already lain with you, Gwen.”

Heat suffused her cheeks. Last night, they’d both been three sheets to the wind—something that was all
too
common for him, and
not at all
common for her. In fact, she’d never had more than a cup of punch or a glass of wine in London. There were far too many people watching in Town, too many rules to be broken. One too many glasses of wine, and a lady’s hard-won reputation could be ruined forever.

But they
weren’t
in London now, and yesterday’s chaos had driven them all to indulge a little too much. Indeed,
far
too much.

“We were not together in the biblical sense…”

He crept toward her, his gaze heavy and intense. “We don’t know that, do we?”

Gwen swallowed. She didn’t
feel
any different, but did that mean nothing had happened? She’d never even
kissed
a man before—let alone woken up in bed next to one. The experience was strangely invigorating.

“A woman knows these things,” she lied, inching away from him.

He slid into the seat next to her, his body so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. A shiver of excitement crept up her spine, but she struggled to push it away. None of this was proper—and every English cell in her body fought against this feeling. But it was like a monstrous wave, an irresistible pull. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. And she wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about it.

He took her chin and forced her to look at him. “Tell me you don’t feel something between us, Gwen. I dare you to.”

She closed her eyes.
It’s the tonic
.
He doesn’t really feel this way, and when the tonic wears off, there will be no end to his anger.

“Look at me, Gwen.”

Her eyes fluttered open and their gazes collided. There was something in his eyes, an intensity that she’d never seen in him before. His unique scent surrounded her, that combination of spice and musk that always made her heart race.

“Tell me you don’t feel something between us,” he repeated.

She should deny her feelings. It’s what a lady would do—what society would demand of her. But she
couldn’t
. The words were stuck in her throat.

“Precisely,” he whispered. “You can’t deny it any more than I can.”

And then it happened. His lips captured hers, pulling her into a hot, desperate kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, dueling with her own, causing delicious little tingles to sweep through her entire body. He tasted like the toddy he’d just drunk, and a hint of something else—something dark and delectable. Something like
sin.

Slowly, the urgency of the kiss melted into something more languid, more intimate. She sank into him, drinking in the taste of his tongue, the
feel
of his hands gently cupping her cheeks. The feel of him was heavenly, and she never wanted it to end. Now she understood why women threw themselves at Matthias. For this—one kiss, one glorious moment of bliss.

He growled somewhere low in his throat and it jolted her from her reverie.

Oh, God.
What was she doing?
She was no better than any of the pitiable women who fell at his feet, desperate for one glance, one scintilla of affection.

Nothing good ever came of such weaknesses—for the ladies, at least. All that was left after attaching one’s affections to a rake were deflated dreams and broken hearts. And for too many…complete ruination.

Angry with herself, she jerked away abruptly, pushing against his chest, breaking the kiss.

She swallowed, unable to catch her breath. Her cheeks felt hot and her heart galloped wildly beneath her ribs like a runaway horse.

“That was…wholly improper,” she managed to get out. “Do
not
do that again.”

A lazy smile spread across his face. “You enjoyed it.”

And before she could even contemplate the truth of that statement, his head dropped into her lap and he promptly fell asleep, snoring loudly.

CHAPTER THREE

They traveled for hours through desolate and beautiful Scottish lowlands, verdant hillsides rising up around them, broken only by the blue, cloudless sky. Gwen had lowered the window to let in the crisp heather-scented air.

Her gaze drifted to Matthias. He was still asleep, his head in her lap. He looked so peaceful in sleep—his strong, handsome features relaxed and serene. He was really quite beautiful.

She now understood, in a detached, appreciative sort of way, why so many women had fallen for him. Handsome, wealthy, the heir to a title…He had everything to recommend him. Additionally, he kissed like an Adonis.

His mouth had fallen over hers, and like a man deprived, he had devoured her, taking complete control. Her body had reacted instantly—her nipples hardening, her heart hammering frantically against the wall of her chest. Even now, remembering it made her feel breathless and light-headed.

The carriage hit a large ditch in the road, jolting them. Matthias moaned and shifted slightly.

Breath held, she waited to see if he would awaken. It would cause infinite problems if he did. She had more sleeping tonic, but she wouldn’t risk his health by giving him an excessive dose—the apothecary had been quite insistent on two drops and no more. If he woke, she would have to convince him they were headed toward London, instead of the opposite direction. He was nothing if not intelligent and would figure it out eventually—not to mention the fact that they were sans Evelyn— then he would insist they turn back.

When he remained sleeping, she released the breath she’d been holding. And yet the fear did not dissipate. What would she do when he awoke? Perhaps she had better tie him up now. Only, she feared he would find himself tied up and scream out. No, better to wait until they reached their destination.

The next morning, the carriage finally came to a halt in a small, desolate-looking hamlet.

When the driver came around to help her alight, she stretched, rubbing her sore neck. Sleeping inside a cramped carriage was unbearable and every muscle screamed out in protest.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Selwick. The most remote hamlet ye’ll find this side of Scotland.”

Nodding, she glanced around. Indeed, there was a narrow dirt road, flanked by squat, humble cottages on either side. Gray, billowy smoke rose up from the chimneys, promising warmth.

“Do you know where I might find someone willing to let a cottage?”

The driver shrugged. “There’s a small inn at the end of the road…”

“Excellent. Will you wait here with Mr. Smith, while I make inquiries? Oh, and if he wakes and mutters nonsense about being kidnapped” —she laughed uncomfortably— “pay him no mind. He also believes he is the queen of England.”

“Aye, miss,” he said somewhat cautiously.

It took nearly the entire morning, while visiting every house within the small hamlet, but she finally found a woman willing to let her a house that was a half hour by carriage just outside of town. It had belonged to her mother, who had died recently. Gwen had used nearly all the money she had left to let it for the week.