Sutton cursed under his breath as he forced himself to his feet. Pain sliced through his shoulder. The wound burned, but the little hellion had been right about one thing: he’d live, or should in any case. Either she was a crack shot or had gotten lucky by grazing his shoulder. As long as no infection set in, he should be all right. That didn’t mean his arm didn’t hurt like hell or he was happy about his current situation. She was going to regret shooting him, but first he had to catch her.
Gritting his teeth, he ignored the constant sting that throbbed on his shoulder. There was a minx he had to catch and paddle her arse. He’d threatened to do so a couple years ago, and it was time he followed through on that. Sutton stomped after her. He didn’t know why she’d been in the woods or what scheme she had concocted, but he would see an end to it. She had to return to school where she belonged—at least until she was supposed to leave. Sutton frowned as a new thought came to light.
Why had those ruffians been after her?
She'd been at the school for two years. Sutton had hoped her time at the school would tame some of her wildness; however, current events suggested otherwise. She remained as unruly as ever…perhaps more so. The restrictions set at Miss Agatha’s School for Young Ladies should have curbed those tendencies. Why hadn’t it?
Sutton cursed again as a branch hit his injured arm. He kept moving forward in the direction Lady Christiana had headed. She wasn’t too far ahead of him. He had caught sight of the light blue skirt of her gown in the moonlight. She was heading in the direction where he’d tied his horse. That was convenient, or at least he hoped it would be. A horrible feeling settled into the bottom of his stomach, and he started to walk faster.
She would take the horse…
He knew down deep in his soul. She had shot him, hadn’t she? That meant Lady Christiana was capable of anything, and stealing his horse would enter her devious mind. She had already demonstrated she didn’t care about him. Never mind the fact he’d been trying to save her hide from the ruffians. The little brat might not have faired so well without his assistance. She’d lifted that pistol as if his life didn’t matter, aimed, and fired. He had the bloody arm and burning pain to prove it.
Sutton cursed again and ran, fast and hard, in her direction. He didn’t pay any attention to the branches that whipped back and smacked him as he rushed forward. There would be marks, lots of them, to go with the wound on his shoulder. Finally, winded from all the running, he caught up to her in the place he’d left his horse. She had already untied his stallion and was trying to mount him. Her foot slipped on the stirrup and she fell back on her behind. He barely managed to hold back a laugh.
“Having a bit of difficulty, are you?” At least there was something humorous about this situation. “Perhaps if you hadn’t left me to die, I could have assisted you. Then again, I like my horse and would unlikely have helped you steal it.”
She met his gaze and snickered. “You look healthy enough for a dying man.”
“No thanks to you,” he retorted. Sutton moved forward and considered offering her a hand off the ground, then nixed it. She didn’t deserve any sort of chivalry. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take my horse and go. Since you appear capable of seeing to yourself, I don’t believe there’s any reason to worry about your welfare.” He glared at her. “I, however, need to find a physician to sew up the wound on my shoulder.” He reached for the reins but instead of snagging them from her he found himself flat on his back. She’d somehow managed to trip him. “Bloody hell…” He hated her.
“You are not leaving me here,” she spat out.
“I didn’t realize you enjoyed my company so much,” he said as the absurdity of the situation rolled over him. “Forgive me if I misinterpreted all the...” He paused for a moment and considered what word fit. “…foreplay.”
They were both on the ground. He was bloody and dirty, and she didn’t look much better. Her blonde curls were no longer pinned properly in place. Loose strands were draped down her back and shoulders, and most of them were a tangled mess. There were dirt smudges on her cheeks and forehead too. She jutted her chin out and said defiantly, “You misinterpreted nothing.” She inhaled deeply. “I do hate you, but it’s better to be with the devil you know then the one lurking in the bushes to abduct you.”
“Is that so?” He lifted a brow. “You didn’t seem inclined to stay with me earlier when you left me in the clearing after you shot me. Why should I offer you any aid now?” He sat forward and winked. “Admit it. You fancy me.”
Lady Christiana opened and closed her mouth several times. The appalled look that filled her face at his suggestion was almost comical. Her eyes had widened, and she’d gone all white. Perhaps there was something to his statement. No… He shook that thought away. The chit hated him as he hated her. There was nothing else between them.
After the stunned silence, she finally found words. “The only thing I’ll admit is how much I loathe you.” She somehow managed to stand without any assistance from him. “Are you going to lay on the ground all night, or are you going to get up and come with me.”
He lifted a brow. She had a lot of audacity… “I haven’t made up my mind as yet.” The pain in his shoulder was going numb. He really should have it looked at but doubted it would be tonight. Sutton sighed and stumbled up and took the reins of his horse. He couldn’t have her taking the horse. She was right about something else too. The Scottish ruffians had been trying to take her, so the school wouldn’t be safe for her now. He would have to take her with him and keep her safe. He narrowed his gaze. “If I take you…”
“Glad to see...”
He held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “As I was saying…if I allow you to accompany me, I expect you to listen to everything I say. This is about protecting you and your reputation.” God, he hoped he could keep her identity secret. She’d be ruined in a heartbeat, otherwise.
“As if you care about either,” she scoffed.
“I doubt you do either at times,” he told her. “You’re as careless as the day is long.” He sighed. Sutton was starting to tire, and he needed to rest. This entire night had gone to hell and back. “Follow me to the road. I’ll mount and then help you up there.”
“Fine,” she said and gestured toward the road with her valise. “Lead the way then.”
They went to the road, and he did as he told her he would. Once she was settled in front of him on the horse, he motioned for the stallion to start walking. Sutton wasn’t entirely certain how long the whole ordeal had taken, but it had drained him to the point of exhaustion. It didn’t help that she smelled like a little slice of heave—a mixture of honeysuckle and cinnamon. This was the closest he’d been to her since the day he’d dived in to save her from drowning on the Graystone estate. He had to do something to distract himself from leaning down and doing something he might regret. Like getting closer to see if she tasted as wonderful as she smelled. “Why were the Scots trying to take you with them?” he asked.
“They didn’t share their motives with me,” she said and tilted her head to the side. “They mentioned something about Tior. Though I don’t know what that is.”
Sutton sucked in a breath. “They said Tior specifically?”
“That is what I heard,” she told him. “What is Tior?”
Declan MacKay, the Laird of Castle Tior…or rather the Scottish Earl Tior, hated Sutton. Truth be told, the Laird despised Sutton's friends too, but not as much. He didn’t understand why he’d want to abduct Lady Christiana. Was Tior trying to take her to settle some sort of score? And if so…with whom? It could be with Graystone, but somehow he doubted it. What if he thought Sutton had more of an interest in her than he actually did, or more specifically an interest of the romantic sort. He had visited Scotland more than normal since Lady Christiana had been sent there for finishing school. “All you need to know about Tior is to stay far away from it.”
“Is it a place?”
“It is,” he confirmed. Sutton wasn’t certain how much he should tell her about Tior. Graystone had issues with the earl as much as Sutton had. His other two friends—Sheffield and Carrolton—had problems with Tior as well, but not as much as Sutton and Graystone did. It went back to their days at Eton. Tior’s grandfather was an English Duke on his mother’s side, and he’d insisted his grandson get an English education. Tior hadn’t settled in well at Eton and didn’t make any friends. Instead, Tior had gathered what Sutton would consider enemies. He blamed Sutton and Graystone for his difficulties. He hadn’t been able to see how he hadn’t helped his situation, and Sutton doubted he could make Tior understand it now.
“Is that all you have to say?” She blew out a breath. “I’m not a child. You can tell me something, and I won’t crumble into a ball of nothing.”
“You could have fooled me,” he said to her. “You often do childish things. Why should I believe any differently?”
“Please tell me,” she said quietly. “I am capable of making decisions about my life if the men around me would give me half a chance.”
He wished he could tell it all to her, but he couldn’t. Sometimes he wished he could forget about it all. Pretending it hadn’t happened had helped him this long, and he’d like to continue as long as possible. “There’s nothing to add. It’s a castle in the highlands. I’ve never been there, so I can’t say more than that.” There was some truth in that statement. He hadn’t been to Tior and didn’t intend to go anytime soon. He’d take Lady Christiana to Graystone. She’d be safe there.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” she told him.
She shouldn’t… “I don’t much care if you do.”
He expected she’d have something to say about that, but she remained quiet. The journey to the nearby town took longer than he’d have liked. With the stallion carrying both of them, he didn’t want to tax him. Lady Christiana’s silence started to worry him. She’d always been outspoken, and with the quiet, he couldn’t help believing she had something planned. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
When they reached town, he went straight to the inn. He already had a room there, so at least he didn’t have to wrangle one for them. The real problem would be their sleeping arrangements, and he desperately needed a bath. It was unlikely he’d get one sharing a room with a lady. At the stables, he helped her off the horse, then dismounted. He handed the reins of the horse to the stableman. “See that he gets a rub down.” He reached into a pocket and tossed him a shilling. “And food.”
“Yes, my lord,” the stableman said and led the stallion into the barn.
Sutton turned to her and said, “Come with me.” She had her valise in her hands. He hoped she had some sort of clothing in there. She could use a bath too and a change of clothing. He would not suggest it though. Let her suffer a little. “Follow me to the inn,” he ordered
“Where else would I go?”
“With you?” He furrowed his brows. “I wouldn’t presume to guess.”
They walked to the inn. When they were inside it was filled with patrons near the main room. A lot were drinking and talking loudly. Sutton prayed none of them notice.
“Lord Foxworth,” the innkeeper greeted. “We feared you might not return. It’s late.”
He held back a groan. “I got held up…” The innkeeper glanced at him and then at Lady Christiana. His gaze narrowed as he noticed the blood on Sutton’s shoulder, and her dirty face and gown. Sutton inwardly cursed. “Have you met my wife?”
“Your wife?” He tilted his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” He clapped his hands happily. “Welcome, Lady Foxworth, is there anything I can do for you?”
God help him. She looked like she wanted to murder him, or wished she hadn’t aimed so precisely earlier… The evening had taken another turn, and not for the better.