Chapter Nine
“Put me down,”she yelled, peppering his back with her fists and kicking her legs.
Malcolm had the urge to swat her arse to get her to stop but held his anger in check.
He was a bit embarrassed at his actions. The lass was pushing all his buttons. He had agreed to let her stretch her legs and tend to nature’s call, but hell’s teeth. She had been in the woods for far longer than necessary.
Not kenning if something had happened to her and her maid, after some time, he decided to go in to track them down. Only to hear her maid urging her to go back, and for the lass to refuse and delay.
And her mouth. It was sharp as a tack. She tested his very limits and once he’d had enough, without thought, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and headed back toward the road, ignoring her pleas to set her back down.
He would not.
Not until they were at the carriage and he was stuffing her inside.
“Your actions are’na that of an earl. I thought ye were supposed to be chivalrous?”
Now she was trying to belittle him? He grunted. The lass had some nerve. He would not show her the satisfaction of seeingthat her words were getting to him. Nay, he would not let her bother him.
They burst through the woods. His coachman’s eyes widened at the sight of the lass on his shoulders, but he remained silent as he held the door open.
Pushing her inside, she sat down with a huff next to her maid, and he followed her in, taking a seat across from her.
“Ye, Sir, are a barbarian,” she spat.
He leveled her with a glare. “I suggest ye watch your sharp tongue, Lass. Lest ye forget to whom ye are speaking.”
She crossed her arms like a spoilt tot and gazed out the window.
It was where her eyes remained as they bounced along the bumpy road. The skies darkened and soon, the pitter-patter of rain sounded on the roof above them.
Damn it. He could only hope that the rain wasn’t accompanied by thunder and lightning. Because no matter how irked he was with the lass’s actions, if he witnessed the scene that unfolded before him previously, he kenned that he would not be able to resist comforting her. No matter how aggravating she may be.
The carriage jerked to a violent halt and lurched to the right. The coachman yelled something he couldn’t quite hear. The carriage rocked back and forth but didn’t seem to be moving.
Hell, what now?
He pierced the women with a pointed stare. “Stay right here.” Then exited the coach and slammed the door behind him.
Looking at the back of the carriage, he whistled. A huge rut held the right wheel, which had splintered into several pieces.
“Shite!” He pushed his hands through his dampening hair as the rain continued to fall. The rain must have washed out part of the road causing the rut. “Did ye no’ see the hole?” He asked the man that was nervously walking around the carriage.
“Nay, my lord. I didna.”
Malcolm sighed. “We canna do anything about it now. We will have to lift the carriage out of the rut and change the wheel.”
His coachman shook his head. “I doona have a spare wheel, my lord. We can lift the carriage, but I will have to go find a new wheel.”
He bit his tongue at the knowledge that they were to be stranded here for who kenned how long. And at the fact that they were traveling without a wheel in case something like this very thing happened.
“Mayhap we can repair it once we see the damage.” But even as he said the words, he could see that repairs were not possible.
He went around the side and opened the door. “Out,” he commanded.
“In the rain?” Lizzie asked in disbelief.
“Lass, ye are trying my last nerve. We need to move the carriage out from where ’tis stuck. ’Twill be easier to do if ye two arena in it. Safer as well,” he added to lessen the sting.
