Chapter Nine

“P ut me down,” she yelled, peppering his back with her fists and kicking her legs.

Malcolm had the urge to swat her arse to get her to stop but held his anger in check.

He was a bit embarrassed at his actions. The lass was pushing all his buttons. He had agreed to let her stretch her legs and tend to nature’s call, but hell’s teeth. She had been in the woods for far longer than necessary.

Not kenning if something had happened to her and her maid, after some time, he decided to go in to track them down. Only to hear her maid urging her to go back, and for the lass to refuse and delay.

And her mouth. It was sharp as a tack. She tested his very limits and once he’d had enough, without thought, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and headed back toward the road, ignoring her pleas to set her back down.

He would not.

Not until they were at the carriage and he was stuffing her inside.

“Your actions are’na that of an earl. I thought ye were supposed to be chivalrous?”

Now she was trying to belittle him? He grunted. The lass had some nerve. He would not show her the satisfaction of seeing that her words were getting to him. Nay, he would not let her bother him.

They burst through the woods. His coachman’s eyes widened at the sight of the lass on his shoulders, but he remained silent as he held the door open.

Pushing her inside, she sat down with a huff next to her maid, and he followed her in, taking a seat across from her.

“Ye, Sir, are a barbarian,” she spat.

He leveled her with a glare. “I suggest ye watch your sharp tongue, Lass. Lest ye forget to whom ye are speaking.”

She crossed her arms like a spoilt tot and gazed out the window.

It was where her eyes remained as they bounced along the bumpy road. The skies darkened and soon, the pitter-patter of rain sounded on the roof above them.

Damn it. He could only hope that the rain wasn’t accompanied by thunder and lightning. Because no matter how irked he was with the lass’s actions, if he witnessed the scene that unfolded before him previously, he kenned that he would not be able to resist comforting her. No matter how aggravating she may be.

The carriage jerked to a violent halt and lurched to the right. The coachman yelled something he couldn’t quite hear. The carriage rocked back and forth but didn’t seem to be moving.

Hell, what now?

He pierced the women with a pointed stare. “Stay right here.” Then exited the coach and slammed the door behind him.

Looking at the back of the carriage, he whistled. A huge rut held the right wheel, which had splintered into several pieces.

“Shite!” He pushed his hands through his dampening hair as the rain continued to fall. The rain must have washed out part of the road causing the rut. “Did ye no’ see the hole?” He asked the man that was nervously walking around the carriage.

“Nay, my lord. I didna.”

Malcolm sighed. “We canna do anything about it now. We will have to lift the carriage out of the rut and change the wheel.”

His coachman shook his head. “I doona have a spare wheel, my lord. We can lift the carriage, but I will have to go find a new wheel.”

He bit his tongue at the knowledge that they were to be stranded here for who kenned how long. And at the fact that they were traveling without a wheel in case something like this very thing happened.

“Mayhap we can repair it once we see the damage.” But even as he said the words, he could see that repairs were not possible.

He went around the side and opened the door. “Out,” he commanded.

“In the rain?” Lizzie asked in disbelief.

“Lass, ye are trying my last nerve. We need to move the carriage out from where ’tis stuck. ’Twill be easier to do if ye two arena in it. Safer as well,” he added to lessen the sting.

“Come, Mary. Let us seek cover under the trees whilst the men work on the carriage.” Lizzie made her way around them and moved to the side of the road.

“Dinna stray too far,” he warned.

Lizzie rolled her eyes but for once did as she was told and stopped at the tree line and watched them work.

The wheel was stuck something fierce and it wasn’t just a matter of lifting the carriage out of the rut.

Malcolm studied the hole. Intuition telling him that something was amiss.

“Does this look natural to ye, John?” he asked the coachman.

The man shook his head as he tried to dig the wheel out of the mud. He sat back on his heels, assessing the area. “Nay, my lord. The hole is too perfect to be done by Mother Nature. ’Tis the perfect width to snag an unsuspecting wheel. The narrowness also makes it hard to detect until upon it.”

Malcolm stood and scanned the trees, his ears listening for any noises that would be too big for an animal.

“Ladies, come forward from the trees.” His voice was low. If someone was watching them, he didn’t want to give them any inkling that he was aware of them.

“We are fine here, thank ye,” Lizzie snapped.

Gritting his teeth, he approached the women. “I need ye closer to the carriage.”

“Whye’er for?”

“Are ye always this obstinate?” He shook his head. “Ne’er mind. I dinna want to ken your answer. I want ye to stay close.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked behind her at the woods. “Are we no’ safe?” she asked quietly.

“Ye are. I would just prefer if ye were nearby.” He didn’t want to alarm the women and he said a silent prayer that for just this once, she listened.

With a final look at the trees, she gave him a curt nod, and grasped Mary’s hand, pulling her maid toward him.

“Just stay clear of where the carriage might roll if we can loosen it. I dinna want either of ye getting hurt.”

He and John went back to work on digging out the wheel. When they finally got it free, they tried to lift the carriage, but its weight was too much.

“I dinna think we will be able to get it out, my lord,” John muttered after several attempts.

Malcolm swiped his forearm across his brow. His man was right. They would need to enlist help. He moved to the back of the carriage and rummaged through his bag, his fingers closing around his pistol. With his back to the women, he maneuvered his holster on and slipped the pistol inside. He didn’t want to frighten them, but he would be damned if he let them be vulnerable in this situation.

“Take one of the horses and ride to the closest town. Secure some men and a new wheel.”

“My lord?”

“I will stay with the women to ensure their safety.”

John bowed. “Aye, my lord. I shall return swiftly.”

Malcolm nodded, but he doubted it. They were hours away from anyone that would be of help for what they needed. John may come across some men to enlist for what they needed, but the wheel would be another story.

He watched as John climbed one of the horses and trotted down the road.

“The coachman is leaving us?” Lizzie asked.

“One of us had to go and recruit help and I wasna about to leave ye two alone.” His eyes went to the woods again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He kenned someone was watching them. The question was, were they there to help or harm?

*

Lizzie couldn’t help the shiver that overtook her body. Something wasn’t right. Malcolm looked far too serious as he gazed at the trees.

“Are ye certain we are safe?” she whispered, searching the trees but seeing naught.

“Aye,” he said quietly.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth. All she could see were branches and leaves, thick tree trunks, and then darkness deep within the woods.

“Mayhap we should start walking toward town. It canna be that far?” she asked hopefully.

“’Twill be better if we stay here. John will be back soon. He’ll bring help and then we’ll be on the road before we ken it.”

The whole time Malcolm spoke, he didn’t look at her. Instead, his eyes were focused on the trees.

“I—”

“Lass, please. I ken what ’tis best. Do ye and Mary have cloaks in your bags?”

“Aye,” she confirmed, wondering why he asked.

“Get them and put them on. ’Twill keep the chill off ye. I dinna want ye to come down with an ague.”

She didn’t appreciate being told what to do, but the serious tone of his voice had her moving to do as he said, instead of being objectionable.

Locating their cloaks, they slipped them over their shoulders. “Should we build a fire?”

“Nay.”

“It may get cold. If ye dinna want us to become ill ’tis only proper.”

“We dinna want to bring any more attention to ourselves than we already have with our stuck carriage.”

The sound of a twig snapping drew Malcolm’s attention back to the woods. “Go to the side of the carriage, ladies,” he ordered tersely, albeit softly, and that was when she noticed the pistol tucked into his side.

She sucked in a breath and hurried to do as she was told, she and Mary huddled together, watching Malcolm move toward the woods.

A hand sneaked around from behind and covered her mouth.

“Well, what ’ave we here?” an unfamiliar voice whispered near her ear, his foul breath infiltrating her senses.

Without a second thought she clamped down on the hand and stomped on the man’s foot. He howled, raising his hand to strike her.

She braced for the hit.

“I suggest ye step away from the lady,” Malcolm ordered, his voice cold as ice.

Pistol in hand, it was pointed at the filthy man. He looked and smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in ages and she tried to ignore the awful taste lingering in her mouth. He looked at Malcolm, smiling a toothless grin, as he put his hands up.

Mary wrapped her arms around Lizzie, and they huddled together against the carriage.

Why was he smiling? The look on Malcolm’s face was terrifying.

Another man, just as dirty as the one standing in front of them, stepped out of the woods and her breath caught.

Was this an ambush? She’d heard about them from her father’s travels but had never experienced one before.

“Malcolm!” Lizzie yelled as the man stepped up behind him, his hand raised high, ready to bring down a club upon his head.

With a deft swiftness, Malcolm spun, ducking out of the way of the blow that just missed him. He threw an elbow out, catching the man on the chin, causing him to stumble back. Striking him with the butt of his pistol, the man collapsed in a heap.

Pointing his pistol at the two men, he stalked them like they were his prey. His eyes impossibly dark. His face fierce and set in stone.

The man that grabbed her earlier reached out, but she and Mary stepped back with a shriek. He kept advancing, and a shot pierced through the air, echoing in the silence of the woods. The man clasped his chest, looking down at his hand that was covered in blood, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I warned ye.” Malcolm kicked out, his boot landing on the man’s chest and pushing him into the other man, who lost his balance.

As he tried to scrabble to his feet, Malcolm reached out grabbing him by the shoulders before spinning him about. His fist pounded into the man’s meaty jaw. Once. Twice. Three times.

The sound was sickening to Lizzie’s ears.

The man went limp and Malcolm looked around wildly. He holstered his pistol and ran up to them.

“Are ye alright, Lass?” His hands rubbed up and down her arms as he assessed her.

She nodded, unable to speak. He’d saved her. Saved Mary. Saved them both.

Against two men. By himself.

“Get in the carriage, ladies.” He pushed his hands through his hair as he looked at the two men on the ground.

She was certain he’d killed one of them.

“I need to secure these louses afore they wake.” He opened the door to the carriage and ushered them inside. “I shan’t be long. Stay put. Please.”

When he didn’t budge, she nodded her head, and then he was gone. She heard him rummaging through their bags, and the tearing of material.

“Did ye see how fierce the earl was, Miss? He saved ye from the reivers.”

“Us, Mary. He saved the both of us. I’ve no doubt he would have acted the same whether I was here or no’.”

They watched out the window of the carriage as he bound their hands and legs then secured them each to a tree.

“Are ye certain ye both are well,” Malcolm asked again as he stepped inside the carriage.

“Aye. Thank ye, my lord.”

He was opening and closing the fingers of his right hand, the knuckles bruised and starting to swell.

She moved in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “Ye’re hurt.”

“Nay, Lass. I am fine.”

But he winced when she touched one of his knuckles that had a deep cut on it. Without a thought, she lifted her gown and managed to rip some cloth from her chemise. She dabbed at the wound and he let out a low hiss.

“Ye acted so verra bravely.”

“Any man would,” he countered, his eyes boring into hers.

It was as if they were the only two people in the carriage. Mary melted away. The men outside melted away. It was only the two of them there in this moment.

“I dinna think any man would have done what ye just did. Ye fought with two men. And won.”

He brought his other hand up and stroked her jaw.

She leaned into the caress.

“I couldna let aught happen to ye, Lass.”

Her breath hitched at his words. Words that sounded almost like a confession. His eyes flared as they focused on her mouth. Her hands stilled and she swallowed.

Hard.

Did he want to kiss her?