To Tame a Highland Earl (14 page)

So why hadn’t they encountered the two on the
road yet?

Erroll was reasonably sure Halifax wouldn’t
harm her. The man was lazy at heart, which meant he preyed on women
who were easy victims to sweet words. Miss Eve Crenshaw was
anything but a victim. Erroll recalled the gun she had pressed into
his belly when he’d sneaked into her room. He also recalled her
saying she wasn’t carrying a gun tonight and regretted that fact.
Neville deserved a bullet in the belly.

Either way, Halifax would likely try to
seduce her, which meant Erroll would have to kill him just for
trying. He dug his heels into his horse’s belly. The animal lunged
past Somerset and Oscar’s horses. Seconds later, the two men came
up alongside him.

Half an hour passed, and they were forced to
slow. Erroll considered turning back. Surely Halifax wouldn’t have
gone this far? Erroll had expected to overtake them within four
hours at the most. Had he miscalculated? Maybe they’d turned off on
one of the side roads? The faint rattle of a fast moving carriage
brought his mind to attention. He glanced to the right at Oscar,
but couldn’t see the man’s face.

“
I heard it,” Oscar said in
a low voice.

“
As did I,” Somerset
confirmed.

Without another word, the three shot forward.
A minute later, a shout went up from the carriage.

“
Halt!” Somerset ordered,
but the squeak of wheels said the carriage had picked up
speed.

“
Bloody bastard,” Oscar
growled. “He’ll kill Miss Crenshaw.”

The brute was right. The moon, hidden by
thick clouds, left them in dense blackness that made fast travel
treacherous. Erroll loosened the reins, allowing his horse to
gallop unencumbered on sure feet. Seconds later, he discerned the
carriage fifty feet ahead and yanked free the revolver from his
waistband. Erroll pointed the weapon skyward and fired.

A woman inside the vehicle screamed and the
driver’s “Whoa,” preceded the squeak of slowing wheels.

“
Drive on,” a man shouted
from inside the coach, but the driver didn’t obey.

Erroll slowed his panting horse, with Oscar
and Somerset alongside, but Somerset was off his mount first and
lunged for the carriage door.

“
Somerset,” Erroll began,
but was cut off by Oscar’s “Stop, you fool.”

The carriage door swung open, and a tall,
young man of about twenty years of age stepped to the ground, a
revolver pointed at them. Somerset took a step back.

The young man looked from one to the other of
them, then said, “Who the devil are you?”

“
Not the father chasing
you,” Erroll said. “Forgive us. We are pursuing a different
couple.”

The young man hesitated.

“
It is no trick,” Erroll
assured him. “Somerset, get back on your horse.”

The viscount complied, but the young man
wasn’t taking any chances, and backed into the carriage. Before he
closed the door, he said, “Sykes, drive on.”

The carriage rolled into motion. Erroll urged
his horse into a trot and, followed by his companions, passed the
carriage.

When they were out of earshot, Somerset said,
“How did you know?”

“
The woman in the carriage
screamed,” Erroll said. “Miss Crenshaw does not scream.”

For the last hour, Erroll told himself to
keep riding, but, like wildfire, his worry jumped from one
possibility to another, and now he wondered if he’d erred in taking
the main road. How far would Halifax ride in order to ensure his
story was believed? He would know the gossipmongers needed only the
slightest prodding to accept and spread such a juicy story as the
one he hoped to inspire. The purest in
Society
thrived upon
the worst rumors. Erroll knew that truth firsthand, as he’d been
the subject of many a vicious tidbit.

He had to admit, though, the scandal with
Miss Eve Crenshaw topped even the time he’d made the rounds of half
a dozen balls accompanied by London’s most notorious courtesan,
Lily Thackery, who had been allied with Lord Belmont at the time.
The marquess had a violent temper and met Erroll for a dawn
appointment. They both missed, but Belmont, dissatisfied, had
produced another pistol from his waistband and tried a second time
to shoot Erroll. Erroll’s second shot him before he got off the
round, but Erroll was credited with shooting the marquess.

The man had lived, and didn’t want to recount
the story, which Erroll knew was the only reason the magistrate
hadn’t been called. Erroll’s father had banished him to Scotland
the remainder of that year and through the bitter Highland winter.
But the incident with Miss Crenshaw was worse. Far worse. And here
he was, chasing her to Gretna Green.

*****

Eve couldn’t believe it. Lord Fairfax had
changed horses and driven them through the night as if she and he
were truly lovers making a run for Gretna Green. During the first
two stops, she’d remained silent. But every subsequent stop
thereafter, she had protested that he spent too much money on what
was supposed to be a jest. He’d answered that no one could possibly
dispute what had happened with so many witnesses along the way. His
manner had darkened, however, at their last stop, when Eve
announced with a laugh that they’d gone far enough. His
“I will
tell you when we have gone far enough,”
was devoid of humor,
and Eve was at a loss to understand what he truly intended.

Morning was fast slipping away and she
calculated they would reach the border within two hours. What were
the chances they would reach Scotland in time to witness Grace and
Lord Rushton pronounced man and wife?

Eve jolted awake. She blinked, and another
hard jolt reminded her that she rode in a carriage with Lord
Halifax. She hadn’t meant to sleep, but she’d grown unnerved
staring at him through the morning hours, and had closed her eyes
in an effort to blot out his face. The carriage slowed, and Eve
pulled aside the curtain. Five years had passed since she’d been on
this road, but she hadn’t forgotten the green hills that marked the
approach to the Scottish border.

She released the curtain and shifted her gaze
to Lord Halifax. “Sir, we have gone far enough. We need not cross
the border.”

For the dozenth time, a chill crept up her
spine when his gaze dropped from her face to her breasts, then
returned to her face.

“
You are not particularly
rich,” he said. “Three thousand pounds a year. Not nearly as rich
as Lady Hancock, but she has a dozen young bucks at her
feet.”

“
I am sure she will marry
the man she loves,” Eve said.

He gave a condescending laugh. “Such
alliances aren’t based on affection.”

“
If she has the pick of the
lot, why not choose a man she cares for?”

“
Females are not capable of
soft emotion.”

“
On the contrary, we are
known for our tender emotion.” Though Eve knew he was more right
than she. Many women were, in fact, incapable of any emotion other
than jealousy and pride.

Lord Halifax studied her. “Are you saying you
could love a man?”

“
I would marry for no other
reason.” A fact that had her well on the way to a lonely
spinsterhood.

“
I would not object if my
wife loved me.”

Her heart jumped more with anger than fear.
He spoke nothing of loving his wife, but she kept her voice genial
and said, “Of course. You should insist that your wife love
you.”

“
I am speaking of
you.”

Eve laughed. “You need not take the joke so
far, my lord. The world will believe I ran away with you. That is
all we need.”

“
Though loathe to admit it,
I need more.”

She had no idea what that meant, and didn’t
want to know. “Forgive me, but I do not love you and, as you say,
you want a wife who loves you.”

“
You don’t really know me,”
he said. “You could learn.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless you love
Rushton.”

“
I do not know him. How can
I possibly love him?” But she hadn’t been able to forget the play
of muscle beneath her hand while her fingers were wrapped around
his arm, the moist warmth of his mouth on hers, the hard planes of
his body when she’d been mashed up against him…and the deceptively
lazy way he’d warned Lord Halifax away from Lady Gallagher in the
garden.

“
I will make you forget
him.”

Eve startled at the wonder of how Lord
Halifax had read her mind, then realized he hadn’t. “This is a
joke, sir, a way to embarrass Lord Rushton. You know I have no wish
to marry.”

“
I hadn’t given it any
thought, but the carriage ride has given me time to reflect. Three
thousand pounds will sustain my property. You will live as well as
you always have.”

“
I am sorry, but I will not
marry you any more than I will marry Lord Rushton.”

“
We have spent the night
alone in my carriage while racing to Gretna Green. There’s no
turning back.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Particularly if we
consummated the wedding before the ceremony.”

*****

“
You say they passed
through two hours ago?” Erroll asked the farmer in Shap.

“
Aye,” he replied. “We was
having breakfast when he stopped and demanded new
horses.”

“
You are sure it was
Halifax?” Somerset asked.

“
The crest was a silver
shield with three red inescutcheons like his lordship here said,”
the farmer replied.

“
That’s the one,” Erroll
said. “We will need horses.”

“
I only have his horses and
one chestnut,” the farmer replied. “He promised to send my horses
back in exchange for them.”

“
Those are his horses?”
Erroll nodded at the two bays grazing in the corral alongside the
barn.

“
Aye.”

Erroll nodded. “They will do.”

“
They ain’t my horses to
rent,” the man said.

“
Nevertheless, we will take
them. When we see the earl, we will make sure he gets them back.”
With interest, Erroll silently added.

“
What about me getting back
my horses?”

“
You will have our mounts
as collateral. We will need the chestnut, as well.”

“
He is my favorite. I can’t
sell him.”

“
Name a price,” Erroll
snapped. “Otherwise, I will simply take all three.”

“
I’ll have the sheriff on
your arse in ten minutes,” the man retorted.

“
I know Halifax’s taste in
horses. With a ten minute head start, the sheriff will likely not
catch us. If he does, my companions and I will testify that you
sold us the horses.”

The man glanced at Oscar, who folded his arms
across his massive chest and glared.

“
Twenty pounds each,” the
man said through tight lips.

“
I will leave my note,”
Erroll agreed.

“
A piece of paper means
nothing here,” the man said.

Erroll pulled his wallet from his trouser
pocket, and said, “I feel certain you are not implying I would
cheat you,” as he withdrew the five notes he had on hand.

“
You said you would take
the horse if I didn’t sell them,” the man replied.

“
If you insist on being an
ass, I will make good the threat just on principle.” Erroll handed
him the money, then called for paper and pen. He left the money and
note, along with an assurance that he would have the funds sent
once he reached home. The farmer grumbled, but fresh horses were
saddled twenty minutes later.

“
If we pace ourselves
properly, we might catch them in two hours,” Erroll said as the
three of them turned the horses toward the road.

“
Why is he traveling so
fast?” Somerset said. “Does he truly plan to marry her?”

That question had puzzled Erroll more with
each passing mile. “One would think he expected Miss Crenshaw’s
father to give chase.”

“
Lord Tolland will shoot
him, once he learns what the bastard has done,” Oscar
said.

Erroll shifted his gaze onto the big man.
“Will he, now?”

Oscar shrugged without looking at him. “If
there is anything left after I get through with him.”

“
As formidable as you are,
dear Oscar, the earl will not expect you to be hot on his
trail.”

“
He ain’t all that smart,”
Oscar said.

“
I agree,” Erroll
replied.

But he might be smart enough to have deduced
that the lady’s father would, as Oscar said, kill him—or, even more
pressing, that Erroll would kill him—which would mean he had
concluded that he had no choice but to marry her.

Chapter Eight

“
There is no turning
back.”

Fury swept through Eve. Lord Blane had said
much the same thing when they’d made their mad dash for Gretna
Green. She’d believed him and had accepted the logic that
consummating their union before the vows were taken was the only
way to ensure that no one could stop their marriage.

In truth, while her father had paid Lord
Blane to disappear, it had been his father who caught up with them.
The earl planned for his son to marry a rich heiress, not a baron’s
daughter with a meager income. She’d often wondered if Blane had
hoped that the accusation she was pregnant would force their
fathers to allow them to marry after they’d returned to England.
The fact was, however, his father had done her a great service by
forbidding the marriage because Blane would have made a terrible
husband—far worse than Lord Rushton.