The Laird's Forbidden Lady

Safe? With him? Had she banged her head when she fell?

The Gilvrys were wild and unruly. The last time she had seen him he’d ganged up on her with his brothers, calling her Sassenach and thief. And he now was their leader. A man who would do anything to be rid of her father from land he considered his. While she could not refuse his help, she must not trust his motives.

At the bottom of the hill they came across a winding cart track. His steps lengthened as he followed the deep wheel ruts round a sweeping corner to where a long narrow loch glistened like beaten steel in the weak sun. Beside it lay a collection of rough stone buildings.

The old water mill. It looked different—not so derelict—and the pagoda-looking chimney at one end looked new. ‘I didn’t think you Gilvrys worked the mill any more.’

‘My father didn’t. I do.’

‘And added a chimney?’

‘Aye.’

Talk about taciturn. ‘Why does the mill need a chimney?’

He hesitated, his expression becoming carefully neutral. ‘To keep the miller warm in the winter.’

A lie. Though it sounded logical enough. What did it matter that he didn’t care to tell her the truth? She didn’t care what the Gilvrys did with their old falling-down mill.

He carried her into the barn and set her down on a hay bale. Immediately, she felt the loss of the strength around her body, and his seductive warmth, whereas he looked glad to be rid of her. Had she not a smidgeon of pride?

Apparently some part of her did not. The childish naïve part that had admired him from the first moment she saw him. The part of her she’d long ago buried.

Silently, he tied Topaz to a post, while Gilly curled up at her feet.

Her thigh wasn’t hurting nearly as much as before. She’d given it a jolt and the bones that had knit badly had decided to protest the rough treatment. But even though the ache had subsided, she doubted she had the strength to manage her horse. She would have to settle for his alternative mode of transport.

The only occupant of the barn was a small dun-coloured pony, which he led from its stall and proceeded to hitch to a flat-bedded wagon.

‘Your chariot awaits, my lady,’ he said wryly.

She rose to her feet, but he gave her no chance to walk, simply scooping her up and depositing her on some empty sacks he’d laid across the bare boards.

He was unbelievably strong, so unlike most of the gentlemen of the ton who defined themselves by their clothes, not their manly attributes. So unlike the elegant Dunstan.

Oh, now that really was being disloyal.

She shifted until her back was supported against the wooden boards along the side. The smell of barley wafted up. A sweet dusty smell.

He frowned. ‘There are no blankets, but I can give you my coat.’

No. She would not go home wrapped in his coat. It was bad enough she had to suffer his help. Wasn’t it?

‘This will do.’ She picked up a couple of the sacks and covered her legs with one and put the other around her shoulders. She flashed a smile and fluttered her lashes in parody. ‘How do I look?’

‘Like a tinker’s wife,’ he said, a twinkle appearing in the depths of his eyes, making him look more attractive than ever. A twinkle she knew better than to trust.

She kept her voice light and breathy, her smile bright. ‘The first stare of tinker fashion, though, surely?’

The corner of his mouth tipped up as if it wanted to smile more than was seemly. ‘Top of the trees, my lady.’

Something about his bantering tone made her feel warm and her smile softened.

They grinned at each other the way they had on those long-ago summer afternoons, before he had turned his back on her so cruelly.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Her heart lurched. Her breath caught. Many men had looked at her with heat since her come out. Not once in that time had her heart tumbled over in such a ridiculous fashion. She broke hearts. Men did not touch hers. Ever. That was the way to get hurt.

And besides, she was as good as betrothed to a very worthy man who was utterly besotted.

She turned her face away. ‘We should go.’

‘Aye. I’ll tie your horse on behind.’

She swallowed against the feeling of loss as he walked away, trying to blot out her stupid reactions to his smile by thinking about Father and his reaction when he learned she’d been carted home by a man he despised. Father would not be pleased.

Horse dealt with, Ian leapt easily into the driver’s seat with such agility, he made her feel more clumsy and awkward than she usually did these days.

He half turned in the seat, one foot resting against the footboard, his plaid falling away to reveal his knee and the start of a firm muscled calf dusted with dark hair before it disappeared in his sock. So very male. So very intriguing. So very out of bounds. She forced her gaze away.

‘The track is rough,’ he said. ‘I will take it as easy as I can.’

‘I’m not an invalid.’

‘I never said you were.’ He clicked his tongue and the pony started walking. Gilly jumped up over the side of the cart and landed beside her. He lay against her legs.

‘Off,’ Ian said.

The dog flattened his ears, but didn’t move.

‘Leave him,’ Selina said. ‘He’s keeping me warm.’

‘Lucky him,’ he muttered.

Her jaw dropped. Had he really said what she thought she heard? Or was he being sarcastic? He was staring morosely at the road ahead.

‘What happened to your leg?’ he asked. ‘I saw you walking at the ball.’

So much for her efforts to glide smoothly. ‘My carriage tipped over and fell on me.’

He winced. ‘I hope the idiot driver was suitably punished.’

‘I was. I broke my leg.’

His cheekbones flushed red. ‘Oh. I didna’ mean—’

‘The accident was my fault. I was driving too fast and not looking where I was going.’ Thinking about her recent male conquest if the truth be told. ‘I was lucky I was the only one hurt by my stupidity. It doesn’t hurt much any more, but the bones didn’t set quite right.’