She would remember everything about him when this was over, not just how he was with her, but how he was with those he cared about. How he sang Isla to sleep each night, how he teased Aiden into smiling, or how he would let his guard down over a game of cards and laugh with Rafe. There were a thousand things about Brodie Kincade that could make a woman fall in love. He believed he was cold and aloof, but he betrayed himself with every bit of love he gave others, even if he didn’t realize it.
She captured his lips with hers, and he pulled her skirt up to her waist as he slid into the cradle of her thighs.
“Make love to me,” she demanded. “Fast and hard.”
His wicked grin made her moan as he pinned her hands above her head again so he could continue his tender assault at an agonizingly slow pace.
“You devil!” She gasped and fought against his imprisoning hold because she wanted to touch him, to grip him while he tortured her with his sinful mouth.
“Be still, my wee captive. I’ll take you as I please.” He laughed so mockingly she almost laughed as well, but she was too desperate for him now. The sudden sound of a footstep and a cold voice froze her and Brodie in place.
“Release my sister, or I swear I will kill you.”
Brodie started to move.
“Slowly, or I’ll shoot.”
Lydia peered over Brodie’s shoulder to see a bedraggled boy covered in dust, aiming a flintlock pistol at Brodie’s back. Lydia recognized the face. It wasn’t a boy at all. “Portia, no!”
Brodie spun, taking Portia to the ground just as the gun went off with a loud crack.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” Brodie snarled at Portia. “You could have killed her!”
“You monster!” Portia screamed. “I was saving her from you!”
Lydia scrambled to her knees and pulled on Brodie’s shoulder.
“Let her go, Brodie. She thought you were hurting me.”
Brodie slowly released Portia. He got to his feet and helped Lydia up.
Portia was breathing hard as she stood. “Lydia, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Portia. Why on earth are you wearing men’s clothing? And where is Papa? Is he with you?”
“I’m alone,” Portia replied sullenly. “After you were taken, Papa sent me to Brighton with Aunt Cornelia. I escaped, dressed like a boy, and traveled on the Royal Mail coaches to Edinburgh. Then I hired a coach to the village nearby and had to walk the rest of the way.” She smacked her breeches, which were covered with dirt.
Lydia couldn’t help but stare at her little sister. Gone was the perfect beauty. Her sister was bedraggled, filthy, and looked ready to collapse.
Brodie picked the pistol up from the ground and tucked it behind his back in the waistband of his trousers.
“Portia, dear, you look exhausted.”
“I am,” Portia admitted. “But I had to save you.” Her eyes shot to Brodie. “He truly wasn’t trying to hurt you?”
“What? No.” Lydia rushed to reassure her.
“But he kidnapped you with a knife to your throat. I couldn’t stop thinking about how frightened you must have been. All because I was so foolish.” Portia’s voice shook, full of desperation and panic in a way Lydia had never heard before.
Lydia clasped her sister’s hands in hers. “Yes, there was a bit of a misunderstanding at the beginning, but not anymore. We’ve both grown to care about each other.”
Brodie crossed his arms over his chest, scowling at Portia. Lydia put herself between her lover and her sister, just in case things got out of hand.
“You have quite the nerve to come here acting like the injured party, lass,” he said to Portia. “Let’s not forget who kidnapped whom first. Who lied about being with child. You owe me one hell of an apology.”
Portia’s eyes narrowed. “I am sorry I thought you would be a good husband. I’m certainly sorry for convincing my father to catch you and bring you home to me. I’m sorry you were such a foolish man to mistake my sister for me.”
Lydia covered her face with her hands. That wasn’t an apology, and she was certain Brodie would be furious.
“Fine. I accept. Now, you can return to the castle with us, rest for a day, and we will see you to a coach and send you home to Bath.”
“What?” Portia snapped. “Did you not hear the part of my story where I fled my aunt in Brighton? Papa isn’t in Bath. He went after you! I have no one to return to.”
“That isna my problem,” Brodie snapped back. “You found your way here on your own—I’m certain you can survive alone in a fancy house in Bath.”
Lydia grasped Brodie’s arm. “Please don’t send her away just yet. We need to discover where my father is on his way to the Isle of Skye and perhaps we can find a way to send her to him.”
“Lydia!” Portia gasped. “You must come with me. You cannot stay here.”
“Why not, Portia? I am happy here.”
Portia pulled her away from Brodie to have a moment of privacy to converse.
“Lydia, you cannot stay, not unless you marry him,” Portia said in a hushed tone.
“I don’t see why you care. You haven’t cared about me in any of this.”
“Of course I have,” Portia insisted.
Lydia stared hard at her little sister. “You didn’t think of me that night you made a fool of yourself at the ball. You didn’t think of me or Papa when you lied about Brodie seducing you. You didn’t think of Brodie when he was attacked and drugged, or when you drugged him yourself. I knew you were spoiled, Portia, but I never imagined you could also be cruel. If Mama were alive, you would have broken her heart.”
Portia’s lips parted, and her bottom lip quivered. She dropped her head.
“You’re right. Mama would have been devastated. I never should have come here!” Portia suddenly dashed toward the distant woods, leaving Lydia staring after her in shock. It was just like her to run away without a thought as to where she was going.
With a heavy sigh, Brodie took off in the direction her sister had gone. He returned a few minutes later with a squirming Portia thrown over his shoulder. He dumped her onto the plaid picnic blanket.
“I wasna about to let the foolish child get killed by boars. We have many in the woods.”
“A boar?” Portia gasped.
“Boars, plural. As I said, we have many, and they would have gored you with their tusks. ’Tis not a pretty way to die.”
Portia scrambled to her feet again, and this time she grabbed Lydia’s hand, trying to drag her toward the castle.
“We’re safe out here by the lake, Portia, really,” Lydia said, trying to reassure her panicked sister.
Brodie collected the plaid blanket and gathered the dishes into the basket. They headed toward the castle, but it seemed as though luck wasn’t with them today. As they reached the front doors of Castle Kincade, three riders were spotted on the road, headed straight for them.
Lydia had a terrible feeling one was her father.
22
Brodie ushered Lydia and Portia through the front door and turned to face the riders. As soon as they were close enough to recognize, he silently cursed. It was more or less as he’d expected. Brock, Ashton, and Jackson Hunt skidded to a stop and dismounted. Hunt moved the fastest, and Brodie didn’t try to stop what happened next. He raised his arms open-handed and took the angry father’s hard right hook to his jaw. Brodie stumbled back, catching himself against the doorframe.