Lord, the word belong seemed to carry such a weight to it now, a sensual promise that worried her as much as it excited her.
Peeping at Brodie from beneath her lashes, she tried to imagine what life as a mistress would be like, and more importantly, what her life would be like afterward. Once he became bored with her and she returned home in disgrace, what then? It was a good thing she liked the countryside, seeing as how she would likely be relegated to a quiet life in some quaint cottage after her father had married Portia to whatever man she desired next.
“I can hear you thinking, lass.” Brodie’s voice rumbled as he stirred in the corner of the coach opposite her. He stretched out his long, lean, muscled legs toward her, his booted feet nestled beneath the shelter of her skirts, touching her own. It was an oddly intimate thing for two veritable strangers. Their feet touching under the concealment of her clothing. It made her aware of every little move he made as he shifted in his seat from time to time to become more comfortable.
“Are we to stop soon?” She pushed back one of the curtains on the carriage windows. The green landscape was dark with shadows. “The sun is setting.”
“Aye, soon,” Brodie replied as he continued to watch her with an unsettling half smile.
“You really must stop looking at me like that, Mr. Kincade,” she warned.
He gave her a full smile now. “Like what?”
“Like you are thinking of terrible, wicked things.”
“I hate to tell you this, lass, but I am a terrible, wicked man. It is in my nature to think of such things.”
“Oh!” she huffed. “Your brothers did not seem so uncouth as you when I met them.” She hadn’t realized until she discovered Brodie’s identity that she had glimpsed Brock and Aiden once at a ball, but she hadn’t really known much about them, nor had she seen Brodie that night.
“What do you know of my brothers?” he demanded, smile vanishing.
“Not much, but I saw them at the ball where Joanna Lennox . . .”
“Slapped my brother?” He was grinning again. “Why do you think she slapped him? It wasna because he was kind and gentle.”
Lydia didn’t believe him. Joanna would never have run off to Gretna Green with a terrible man. She was all kindness and compassion, and only the best of men could have ever won her heart. Brock Kincade had to be a paragon of virtue compared to Brodie, whom she was growing more upset with every passing hour. Yes, he was attractive, but his handling of her had proved he was a terrible man, and that was not an opinion that would change soon, no matter how much she liked how he kissed.
“If you are bored, you may come over and sit on my lap.” He patted his strong thigh with one hand. “I promise to find a way to entertain you.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she shot back and let the coat he had put around her fall to her lap. His gaze swept over her body, and she had to fight the urge to cover herself with it again.
“I would indeed. When a man suffers frustrations, there is nothing better than to take a lass to bed and”—he let his eyes fall to her breasts and hips before he continued—“satisfy his needs in the roughest, most enjoyable ways possible. I could make you scream my name, Miss Hunt, and you would beg me for more.”
Lydia threw the coat at him, which he easily caught with one hand. She wished she had heavier, harder things to throw. Of course, she suspected anything thrown at his block head would likely break instead. She finally sighed. “Are you going to be like this always?”
“Like what?”
“Exasperating.” She waved a hand at him. “You will drive me mad.”
“Then yes, I will always be this way. You know, I think I like you angry at me, lass. An angry woman has no place for fear, and I don’t want you to fear me.”
“You don’t?” she asked. She hadn’t expected that.
“No. And besides, you flush so prettily when you’re raging at me.”
“I do not rage,” she huffed in protest.
“Aye, you do, and I find it appealing. You don’t scare me—you amuse me.”
Lydia wanted to scream. “I’m not here to amuse you, you cad!”
His tone changed to one far more serious. “No, you are here to please me.”
She was suddenly exhausted with dealing with this stubborn man, and her rare show of a temper was returning.
“I’m here because you are a stubborn fool. I told you I’m not the woman who bound you to a bed and drugged you. That was Portia, my younger sister.” Lord, if she ever laid eyes upon her sister again, Portia would have a great deal to answer for.
“And I believe you are clever enough to lie and invent a sister who does not exist to engender my sympathies. It will not work.”
“If only that were true,” Lydia muttered. “Someday when you realize how you’ve been mistaken as to my identity and character, I pray that you will suffer dearly for it,” Lydia growled. She was done being polite. It had gotten her nowhere with this man. To think that she had been jealous of Portia when she’d assumed her sister’s beauty and their father’s money would win this man over. No, this man was odious, controlling, and a bully. He was everything she despised in a person. Yet when he kissed her, she seemed to forget all of her qualms and complaints.
I must endeavor to avoid such things whenever possible. He may turn me into his mistress, but I do not have to make it easy for him.
The coach came to a stop, and a few voices outside came closer. The door nearest Brodie opened, and Rafe peered inside. The sun had fully set now, and lamplight from a nearby coaching inn silhouetted him from behind.
“You two all right in there? I thought I heard shouting,” Rafe said with a smirk.
Lydia stood, collected her reticule, and made to leave the coach. Rafe reached for her waist, lifting her down to the ground. Brodie leapt down behind her, his boots crunching on the stony road beneath him.
“See if you can acquire three rooms,” Brodie said to Rafe.
“Three? My heavens, you do work fast. Well done, old chap.” Rafe turned and walked into the inn.
“Why did he say that? Why three rooms?” Lydia paused as she counted in her head. A room for Rafe and Brodie, a room for the valets, and a room for her. Well . . . that was thoughtful. So why did that make Rafe laugh? Did he find it amusing that Brodie would let her have her own room?
She followed Rafe into the inn and tried to ignore the heat of Brodie’s body as he stayed close behind her. The inn was busy, and nearly every table was full. Rafe leaned against the bar, one leg bent casually as he leaned in to speak to a man at the bar. The man handed Rafe three sets of keys.
Brodie put a possessive arm around her waist. “Over here, lass.” They wound their way around the tables to one of the few empty ones left. Rafe passed by them on his way toward the door and tossed Brodie a key.
“Where is he going?” Lydia asked.
“To see to the coach and horses. We’ll be resting the horses rather than changing them.”
“Oh.” She took a seat, and Brodie joined her, pulling her tight to him, his arm staying around her waist. “Mr. Kincade, please, do not”
“Hush. This is one of my rules. You are never to leave my side in a place such as this. And before you argue, ’tis not my pride but your safety I’m thinking of.”