“I told ye before I wouldnae give up any woman to Earl Moore, no matter what the reward money was,” he sighed. “I am still keepin’ to that vow.”
Relief washed over her. She staggered away and dropped the parchment on the floor. She was still free, just for a little time, but free for now. She walked toward a fallen tree. The trunk was so big that it was almost as tall as her shoulder. She started to scramble to sit on it.
“What are ye doin’?” His voice disturbed her.
“Sitting down,” she threw the words back over her shoulder.
“I cannae believe ye are suddenly so calm,” he was coming nearer, his voice moving close with it.
“I am not calm. It is just a lot has happened this morning. I need a minute to think about what I am going to do now,” she turned back and was shocked to see he was suddenly in front of her. Before she could stop him, his hands were on her waist. He lifted her clean from the floor and placed her on the trunk to sit down.
She looked at him for a minute as his hands left her, too amazed to think of something to say. He had never touched her in such an intimate way before. It left a trail of butterflies that hovered around her waist from where he had touched her and into her stomach.
“What are ye goin’ to do now?” he practically barked the words as he turned to pick the parchment up off the floor, flattening out to read it.
“I…” Laura trailed off as she didn’t have an answer. She looked down at her lap, away from Erskine’s handsome features that betrayed his anger so much.
Please don’t hate me.
She wished to say it aloud, but she could not quite bring herself to say the words. She opted for something else instead.
“Miss Buchanan was the only person I knew outside of London,” she confessed, looking up again.
“I am guessin’ she wasnae yer aunt,” Erskine too looked up from the parchment, connecting his eyes with hers.
“No,” she shook her head. “She was my governess.”
“Governess?” he half-laughed, then stopped, his ire apparently too strong to allow humor. “I was so convinced ye were a servin’ lad. Aye, a servin’ lad with a rather formal accent, but a servin’ lad nevertheless.”
She held his gaze, not cowering away under that heavy stare.
“I did not deceive you to harm you. You must understand that.” Her words were sharp, but they only made Erskine’s jaw tighten and twitch, clearly trying to restrain a retort. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary!?” his restraint snapped. He gestured toward her with the parchment in his hand. “None of this was necessary!”
“It was!” she cried boldly. She was somewhat pleased to see the surprise in his face her strong voice caused. “If you knew I was a woman, you never would have taken me with you.”
“Of course, nae,” he said, motioning to her again. “How bad would that have looked?”
“And if you had known my true identity, you most definitely would not have taken me with you.”
“Again, of course, nae!” He barked and turned around. “Ye daenae seem to understand the danger ye put me and me friends in.”
“Oh, be quiet, Erskine!” Her voice broke the harshness of his stare. “I did not think I was putting you in danger. Why is that so hard to believe? And tell me this, when you did not know I was Laura Hamilton, you said you did not blame her for running away, didn’t you?” He chose not to reply, so she pushed on, determined to be heard. “My father was a bully. I have lived a life under his tyranny for long enough, and now…” she paused, hesitating with the words, “now he wished to palm me off on one of the mostdisgustingand ill-reputed men in London. All so that he could have a noble connection. What would you have done in my position?”
She waited for his reply, but still, he said nothing and just stared back at her. “Would you have accepted marrying someone who would most likelyforceyou to share his bed at night and strike you in the day? Or would you take the chance that I did…and run.”
He was breathing heavily again. Laura was desperate to hear his answer. It mattered a great deal to her now that Erskine knew her secret, that he understood it too.
Quickly, he lifted the parchment in his hands and began to tear it into pieces. He tore it until there were just fragments left, errant shards of parchment drifting down to the ground.
“Is that your answer?” She pointed down at the pieces.
“Aye, I would have run too,” he acknowledged with a nod, though he did not raise his eyes to hers. It hurt. “Well, yer friend is gone. Those soldiers are clearly nae goin’ to relent lookin’ for ye, and soon enough, someone may recognize ye from that sketch and turn ye in. What will ye do to avoid that?”
She grimaced at his words and looked down, fiddling with the material around her breeches again.
What can I do now?
