Once a Wallflower, Always a Wallflower (The Inheritance Clause Book 3) Read online

  “Shh,” he soothed. “I have you, lass. No one can hurt you.”

  She could not fathom why he was in her room or how she had quite ended up in his arms, but she curled her fingers around his body and listened to the steady beat of his heart. His warmth seeped into her. However, she could not seem to cease crying. Which was not something she did often. Perhaps it was because she was in his arms, perhaps it was because she felt safe. Whatever the reason was, the tears kept on coming.

  He continued to mutter things to her. She hardly knew what half of the words were and suspected some of them were Gaelic, but she appreciated his deep tones rumbling through his chest.

  The ache in her throat eased. She gulped down breaths until the crying slowed and fixed her concentration on the feel of his body around her. She could almost forget the images that would no doubt be sealed behind her eyelids in the days to come. His hand shifted from her hair to her face that he used to lift her chin. Through a watery gaze, she spied him staring down at her, his eyes full of concern.

  “There now,” he murmured. “All is well, little lassie.”

  She wasn’t certain whether she responded or not. Maybe she asked him something with her eyes, some silent plea. Either way, he responded in the only way she wanted him to. Her heart pounded in her chest as he lowered his lips to hers, taking one last glance into her eyes as though asking permission. She lifted her chin a little higher.

  Lachlan laid his lips across hers firmly. She could taste the salt of her own tears. His mouth was warm and secure, much like his presence. He moved his mouth across hers confidently and without apology. She sank deep into his hold, gripping tight to his body. Tears dried up, and the chill that had swept through her body upon waking vanished entirely to be replaced by a furnace of heat burning low in her belly and surging through to the ends of her fingertips.

  He explored the shape of her mouth, his hand firm around her jaw. She opened her lips to him, and he tasted her with his tongue. Nothing could have prepared her for the sensations that rolled through her. Such a simple gesture, and her mind was awash with images—pleasant images. Now, she wanted to touch him further, feel the flesh beneath his linen shirt, have his hands touch all parts of her body. She had never been kissed by a man before—at least not properly. But inside was an innate knowledge that no other man could kiss like this.

  When he eased away, she released a sound of disappointment.

  He chuckled gruffly then pushed hair from her face and swiped the dampness still lingering on her cheeks with a shirtsleeve. He offered her a gentle smile. “Feel better?”

  She nodded. She really did. It might not have been the most common way to calm a distressed woman, but it certainly worked.

  “Would you like to tell me what it was all about? I heard you screaming. I thought there might be some sort of an attacker or something.” He gave a grunt. “I don’t mind telling you you scared the life out of me.”

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I do not suffer these nightmares very often, but I know I scream when I have them.”

  “What are these nightmares about?”

  He continued to hold her, and she could not bring herself to move away. Nor could she lie to him. This man had been good to her, and he needed to hear the truth, even if he did not fully understand it. Sometimes, she did not understand it herself. What happened was so long ago, and yet, it dictated every move she had made since. While her family were sympathetic, she knew many of them were frustrated that it stopped her from doing things with them or even seeing some of them. Cousins and aunts and uncles who lived in the country were never visited, and her siblings and Mama had to make excuses for her.

  He waited patiently while she decided how to start. If she closed her eyes, she could remember being back in that carriage, hearing the gunshots ring out, the governess wrapping her arms about Minerva, and yet, even as an eight-year-old, she knew that no embrace from a governess could protect her.

  “I was travelling alone,” she started. “Well, my governess was with me.” She glanced up at him then concentrated on the dwindling embers in the fire, all the time aware of his patient silence. “I was eight.” She drew in a shaky breath as the images of what happened that afternoon prevailed upon her. She could still remember the scent of gunpowder lingering in the air as the door was yanked open, floods of light from outside shimmering briefly across the interior of the carriage that was quickly locked out by a large, intimidating shadow. Gun in hand, the man stepped into the vehicle and yanked her from it.

  “You are safe.” Lachlan rubbed a thumb over her knuckles.

  Closing her eyes briefly, she drew in another breath and opened them. “Some men stopped the vehicle,” she told him. “They had weapons. I think the driver tried to fight them off and...and he was killed for his troubles.”

  Her eyes grew hot. She swallowed hard and twined her hands together in her lap. Staring at them, she forced herself to remain factual. She had told the story a few times since it had happened but not recently.

  “Anyway, they dragged me from the carriage and kept me prisoner for three days,” she said matter-of-factly. She peeked up at him, spying his horrified expression.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he muttered.

  Minerva shrugged. It was a long time ago.

  “And yet, it still affects you now? You still dream of it?”

  She nodded slowly, staring at glowing embers. “I thought I was going to die. They threatened it regularly. She squeezed her hands more tightly together. They said if my father did not pay the ransom, they would take great pleasure in killing me.”

  “Bastards.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “If I’d have been your pa, they’d have been lucky to live.”

  “Well, somehow I was found, and no ransom was paid.” She offered a tight smile. “It is all a bit of a blur, really. I believe the men were sentenced to be hung.”

  “Good.”

  She could feel his gaze tracing her profile.

  “You said you were a nervous traveler? Is this why?”

  Meeting his gaze, she nodded. “I am guilty of trying to make light of it, but the kidnapping changed everything. I used to enjoy everything about life, but now, I struggle to go anywhere or do anything. I cannot be around strangers or do anything new or exciting.” She gave a light laugh. “It is a miracle I made it all the way to Scotland without panicking and turning around, but my grandpapa set me this task to help me, and I am determined to honor his memory.”

  “You are a courageous lass.”

  “And you do not think I am entirely insane?”

  He chuckled. “Not at all. I challenge the strongest man to suffer what you did as a wee lass and not have nightmares.”

  Minerva dropped her forehead against his chest and smiled to herself. He had to be the first to truly understand. Why on earth did the best man she had ever met have to be a Scottish landowner and not some English gent? Mama would be thrilled if she was spending time with such a man.

  Though, given she never spent any time with men and had no prospects at all, perhaps Mama would not mind so much. She still would not approve of this scenario, however, and certainly not with his methods for comforting her.

  Well, propriety be damned. She was trying new things and being held in the arms of a handsome Scotsman and kissing him was certainly something new.

  Chapter Seven

  Lachlan shoved the door shut against the chilly morning air. The breeze swept a few stray leaves across the tiled floor. Though summer was trying its best to make an appearance, with the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, the wind still pummeled the exposed farmhouse. It did not make his early morning tasks any easier.

  The scent of smoke reached him. He grimaced. There would only be one person cooking, and it would be Minerva. He had to give it to her, the lass was determined. He kicked off his boots, put them by the door, and stepped through into the kitchen. Instead of the smoke-filled room he had anticipated, plates were set out on the tabl
e, a chunk of bread accompanying them with jam, honey, and butter laid out. She turned to him with a shy smile from her spot by the stove.

  “The food is nearly ready.” She picked up the pan, carefully wrapping a cloth around the handle before ladling sausages and bacon onto a plate. She placed the plate onto the center of the table. “I hope it is cooked enough. As you know, my experience with cooking is limited.”

  He suspected even if it was undercooked, he’d risk dying of a sore stomach just to make her smile. But when he leaned over to peer at the food, it all looked perfectly done.

  “You are a quick learner, lass.”

  She beamed at him as she served up the food. “I will take this out to Mr. Johnson and Mr. Young. Neither think it is appropriate to eat with me.” She rolled her eyes. “And I have warmed a little broth from last night’s food for Mary. I do not think her stomach will take much more than that.”

  “She is still unwell?”

  Minerva grimaced. “Yes. She is still very weakened. However, she is doing much better and getting stronger by the day.”

  He knew what the grimace was for. She was here for a purpose, and with her maid being sick, her journey was delayed. He had a solution for that, but he was not certain she would say aye. Hell, he was not certain of anything, not after last night.

  This woman, with her shy smiles and innocent eyes, showed more strength than he’d seen in a hundred Scotsmen. What she had been through was unfathomable to him. And yet, here she was, cooking breakfast and dismissing the silly etiquette that meant her men could not eat with her.

  “I shall take these out to them.” She picked up two plates and nodded her head toward the chair he favored. “Have a seat, and I shall join you shortly.”

  Though this was not his own house, he was not certain if he should enjoy being ordered around by her, but there was something rather pleasant about it. Maybe because he would rather see her like this than racked with tears. It’d been why he had kissed her. How else was he to get her to stop?

  He scowled to himself as he sat down and cut a slice of bread and poured hot coffee into a mug. Of course there would have been better ways to stop her crying. Who was he fooling? He’d wanted to kiss her since the moment he’d seen her, and for some damned reason, the moment when she was at her most vulnerable was when he’d chosen to do it. Luckily for him, she had not slapped a hand across his face.

  Lachlan would not have blamed her had she done so, but her response he could not have anticipated. He touched a finger to his mouth. The memory of the warmth of her soft lips still lingered. He took a sip of coffee as though the bitter tang could remove the memory. Though whether he even wanted to forget it, was another thing. Honor dictated that he did. Or what was left of his honor anyway.

  She returned swiftly, as promised. Her cheeks tinged with pink from the cold weather outside. She glanced shyly at him and sat opposite. He made himself busy with buttering some toast and digging into the food.

  “Is it good? Or at least acceptable?”

  He glanced up at her. “Yes, excellent. Better than even my cook’s food.”

  She pursed her lips. “Now I know you are lying.”

  “Perhaps.” He let his lips curve. “But there is nothing a man likes more than a good breakfast after a morning’s work.”

  “You certainly do work hard. I imagine your life at home is not the same. Not if you have a cook.”

  “Aye, that is true. My house is some three miles from here, and I never have to cook my own breakfast.”

  “Yet, I think you rather enjoy the work.” She tilted her head and eyed him.

  “You may be right. I am not used to doing nothing, even though I have owned that house for several years now.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how to change habits that were ingrained into me as a lad.”

  “That is very admirable.” She bit into a slice of bread, leaving a little butter on her top lip that Lachlan longed to lean across and swipe off with his thumb. Mostly so he could feel her lips one more time.

  “There are other more admirable actions. Like you, for example—he pointed a fork her way—“you have embarked on a journey that you knew would terrify you, and yet, you still did.”

  “Well, I have little choice. My older brother Theo, the marquis, has been struggling financially. A lot of people depend on him for their living, and he is trying his best to ensure everyone’s living is safe.”

  “Times can be hard, especially for those with large estates.”

  “I imagine you are not having a hard time.” She gave a tilted smile. “But our business and estate is in fairly good health. It is his late wife who caused most of the financial problems. Theo does not talk about it much—Theo does not talk about much at all—but I believe she gambled greatly and left huge debts after her death.”

  “So, if you gain this inheritance, it will help Theo?”

  She nodded. “We have all tried to take as little as we can from him, but with this inheritance, we will be able to be independent from him. My only other option was to marry, and I’m sure you can imagine there are few men wanting to propose to me.”

  Lachlan nearly choked on his bread. He had imagined there were men lining up all around London just for a chance to speak with her. “I cannot imagine, lass, no.”

  Minerva glanced down at her plate. “Well, it is true. And I could not bring myself to go in search of a man. So, this inheritance will help greatly. But unless each of us completes our tasks successfully, we will not have the money.”

  Lachlan frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “If we do not complete this, all of the inheritance will go to an uncle of ours. He is not even really an uncle. He married our aunt and left her in the most dire of circumstances. He does not deserve a single penny.”

  She said this with such determination that he almost smiled. “I cannot imagine your grandfather really wanted that for you all.”

  “I suspect he wanted to ensure we had extra incentive to complete our tasks. I thought he was mad sending me on such a journey, but he wrote me a letter, and I could see he wanted so much more for me. I think perhaps if I had been given this task any earlier, I would have been unable to complete it. But I had been thinking about my life a lot recently, particularly after his death. It seems a shame that someone must pass away for one to see what their life is really like.”

  “I think you underestimate yourself.” He took a long gulp of coffee to wash down the bread. “There are few women who would complete such a task, regardless of past traumas.”

  “I have yet to complete it. Until I have returned this thing of my grandfathers to London and his lawyer, my task is not done.”

  “About the rest of your journey…” He gulped down a deep breath, aware that his heart was pressing hard against his rib cage. “You realize that to travel to Malmara you will need to go on horseback. The journey may be treacherous.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “But I have to believe that my grandpapa would not have set me such a task if he did not think I could complete it.”

  “I think you can complete it, to be certain. But I also think you need help.”

  “I have Mr. Johnson and Mr. Young. Mr. Johnson may not look that strong, but he is a capable man.”

  Lachlan considered the rotund man who was quite a character but not the hardiest of folk. Nor did he know the land, unlike Lachlan, who knew almost every mountain and valley like the lines in his hands. He cleared his throat. “What if you were to leave Mary here?”

  Her eyes widened. “You would not mind? Would she not be a burden to you?”

  “Even if she were recovered, I would not wish to send a woman out after an illness on such a journey.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I would rather not inflict that on her either.”

  “And Mr. Johnson could look after her,” he suggested.

  “Oh, but I think I need him. He—”

  “You would not need him if I came with you,” he hurri
ed out before he could change his mind.

  She blinked at him for several moments. “But the farm…”

  “I have already spoken to Mr. Johnson. He knows well enough what he is doing and, to be frank, he would rather tend to farm animals than hike across wilderness.” Lachlan grinned. “Those were his words.”

  “Oh.” She stared at her plate for a few moments and lifted her gaze to his. “You would really accompany me?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think…” She gave a smile. “I think I would like that very much.”

  And he would like that more than she knew.

  Chapter Eight

  “I really think I should…”

  Minerva put a hand to Mary’s shoulder and urged her to lie back down. “You are going nowhere, Mary.”

  The maid’s brow furrowed. “It is bad enough that I have been out of sorts while you have been forced to nurse me alone. Your mama shall not be happy.”

  “Mama would understand, and she certainly would not want me to force a sick woman onto a horse.”

  Mary sighed. “Why could this cottage not be an easy journey? I would do fine in the carriage, I think.”

  “Mr. Johnson shall remain here and ensure you are well. With any luck, I shall be returned in but a day or two, and we can begin our journey home.” Minerva offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. The truth was, she was thrilled Lachlan had offered to accompany her. Not just because he knew the area far better than any of them did but because…well…she wanted his company.

  “Be safe, my lady.” Mary offered a resigned smile.

  Minerva gave Mary’s hand a squeeze and left the room. She gave a little squeak when she ran into Mr. Johnson in the upstairs hallway. Their entire stay here and the man had barely left the stable accommodations. He had his cap in hand and was scrunching it in both hands.