“I am fine, thank ye. ’Twas just a bump.”
He nodded. “A wee bit more than that to rock the carriage so. I can only hope it didn’t damage anything. I dinna want any delays in our travels.”
“My lord. Speaking of our travels. What exactly is your plan to get us to Stonehaven? Will we be stopping to rest often?”
He studied her as if trying to ascertain if she was genuinely curious or if she was asking questions to be difficult. She supposed some of her reasoning was to be a pain, but, in her defense, he deserved it for not believing her in the first place.
To accuse her of lying and of thievery…it was uncalled for. And in doing so, she didn’t feel the need to placate him and go along with whatever plan he fostered up in his mind.
“Miss Barclay, we will stop as often as ye require,” he finally answered. His look was challenging, as if he were daring her to complain about such liberties.
His gaze held hers and her stomach fluttered. He was a very handsome man. And his voice. Well, his voice was sweet as honeyed whisky whenever he spoke. It didn’t matter if he was being curt or even accusing her of crimes. His voice slid over herskin and seeped into her pores, infiltrating all her senses. She broke eye contact and focused on the trees passing by, letting out a shuddering breath. Praying that he didn’t see the effect he had on her.
How silly was she? To find the man that held her very life in his hands attractive? He held the key on whether she lived a free life or if she would spend her days in prison. She shuddered again but for an entirely different reason. Imagining herself locked away in the dungeons. Sustaining on bread and ale. The thought was depressing. The scenario also undeserving. She was innocent.
Never mind what it would do to her parents.
“What has your mind so occupied, Miss?”
Tilting her head, she wet her lips as she contemplated whether or not she should answer him. If they were in any other setting, her attitude would be frowned upon. She understood that. If her parents saw the way she was behaving, they would have her remanded to her room and not let out. But somehow, in this close setting, intimate almost, she felt like protocol was swept away and made obsolete. Because of that, she, once again, found herself unable to hold her tongue.
“Since ye are interested, my lord. I was ruminating on the fact that ye have for the lack of a better term, imprisoned my maid and I in your carriage, insisting that I am a thief. There is something verra wrong with ye.” She crossed her arms defiantly and glared at the man sitting across from her.
A man, who infuriatingly, lifted his brow at her before barking out a laugh.
