The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (4 page)

After purchasing food—ale, eggs, bread, cheese, apples, meat pies—she paid another driver an additional sum to drive them out to the remote cottage with instructions to return for them in a week’s time.

Twisting their way through the Scottish wilderness, they finally came upon the cottage—a two-story stone structure with a thatched roof. Ivy crept across the walls, nearly covering it entirely. Weeds choked what was once a beautiful garden. No one had lived here in quite some time—that much was clear—though the woman assured Gwen that she came nearly every week to keep the cottage from falling into complete disrepair.

As she stepped out of the carriage, her gaze swept across the surrounding wilderness. Just beyond the green hills was a beautiful beach, or so she’d been told. Standing against the wind, she drew in a lungful of the briny, salt-drenched air.

Yes, this would do quite nicely.

“Would you be so kind as to help me carry my…
husband
inside?” She had to force out the word husband and prayed the driver didn’t notice her hesitation.

After unloading the trunks, they roused Matthias enough to get him to walk, then ushered him inside and up a steep, narrow staircase. Upstairs there was only one bedroom. The furnishings were sparse—a fireplace, table, rocking chair, and a large bed that took up most of the space. Gwen shook out the comforter and then she and the driver lowered Matthias onto the bed.

She needed to tie him up, but she would have to wait until they were alone.

“Thank you so much for your assistance,” she said to the driver, practically pushing him down the stairs and out the front door. She pulled a guinea out of her purse and pressed it into his hand. “Please be sure to return for us in a week’s time.”

When he tipped his hat and left, she pushed out a sigh of relief and rushed back up the steps to Matthias, where he lay awkwardly on the bed. Gingerly, she straightened his legs and arranged his body into a position that looked slightly more comfortable. She then untied his cravat and pulled it free, exposing a dusting of light hair on his chest.

Her gaze wandered over his powerful body and she couldn’t help the heat that instantly spread through her limbs. It would be improper to touch him, and yet her fingers were drawn to the warm skin peeking out from the collar of his shirt. She brushed her fingertips through the fine hair covering his chest, marveling at how soft it felt.

Something stirred inside her. Desire. She recognized the feeling—she’d felt it more than once. And every time it was Matthias who’d provoked the unwanted emotion.

She retrieved the length of rope that the innkeeper in Gretna Green had given her and leaned over Matthias awkwardly, wondering how in the devil she should go about this. Tying people up wasn’t exactly her forte and it occurred to her she hadn’t any idea how to do it.

A quarter of an hour later, he was trussed up—his hands tied together securely. For good measure, she also tied them to the iron bedframe, giving him a bit of length so he could move somewhat freely—
just
long enough to tend to his breeches should he need to make use of the chamber pot—but not free enough to aid in escape.

Hands on her hips, she glanced down at him and felt a little thrill of excitement. This handsome, brawny man was completely at her mercy and it made her feel powerful.

Curious, she unbuttoned his shirt at the collar and opened it wider, exposing more of his chest. She swallowed as she smoothed her fingers across his skin—marveling at how hard he felt. He was all muscle and virile male and it did something to her, inside. She felt…
electrified
.

Snatching her hand away, she shook her head. She should not be touching a gentleman in such a way. She was a lady, not a harlot.

To distract herself, she decided she would need to prepare something resembling a meal. She hadn’t eaten since last night, and when Matthias awoke, he would be hungry. She had no wish to cause him any more discomfort than was necessary.

Down in the kitchen, she immediately tucked into one of the meat pies. The buttery crust crumbled in her mouth and the meat was hearty. Perhaps it was because she was so hungry, but it tasted heavenly. Better than anything she’d sampled in London.

Once she was done shoveling food into her mouth, her gaze drifted across the room. Dust blanketed every surface—so thick in places that she feared what might be lurking beneath. If she and Matthias were going to live here for a week, she would need to make it habitable.

How difficult could it be?

Quite
difficult, as it turned out.

It was fortunate her father was not around to witness her utter incompetence. Though he was in faraway London, she could almost
feel
his disapproving glare. It was remarkable how he could make his presence felt, even from such a distance.

Finding an apron and rag in a cupboard, she had set about dusting the surfaces—which sounded simple, in theory, but in practice…She sneezed uncontrollably, her eyes watered, and her nose ran to the point of absurdity.

After hours of cleaning, she’d been reduced to merely flicking at the dust with disinterest. Most of the dust had been displaced anyway.

There was a
thump
from upstairs.

Gwen paused mid-flick, her heart pounding, and listened.

Another heavy
thump
vibrated the wood beams overhead.

Uh-oh.

Tossing the rag aside, she sprinted up the steps and down the corridor. The door was ajar and she pushed it open—reeling back at the sight of Matthias awake in bed, pulling against his restraints violently. He caught sight of her and his eyes narrowed in fury.

“Gwen, what the hell is this?”

She flinched at his strong language. Never before had he spoken to her in such a fashion—but he’d never been tied up before either, she wagered. She paused. On second thought, perhaps she shouldn’t speculate on that.

“You’re awake,” she said cheerfully. “Excellent.”

“Gwen.” His tone was low, threatening and it caused her body to tremble. “Where are we? What have you done?”

“A small hamlet in Scotland.” He
did
deserve the truth, after all. There was no harm in telling him why she had done what she’d done. Perhaps he would be less angry. She doubted that, in truth, but it was worth an attempt.

“I am helping a friend,” she said. “A friend who has been like a sister to me.”

Matthias shook his head, his expression confused. “This is about Evelyn?”

“She needs to find Stephen,” Gwen said. “And I was tasked with” —how should she put this? — “
diverting
you.”

Fury swept over his beautiful features. “Diver—” He cut himself off midsentence and glanced up at the ceiling as if to calm himself. After a moment, he drew in a breath and lowered his head. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Your friend—the woman you so desperately wish to protect—is now in even greater peril because of your actions. Her reputation is most certainly ruined, and you have facilitated that ruin.”

Guilt swamped her, but she stiffened her spine—refusing to reveal any such weakness. “Evelyn is a woman full grown. She perfectly capable of making her own decisions.”

“Is that what you truly believe, Gwen?”

She swallowed, suddenly unsure. Evelyn had been rash, certainly, but she knew her own mind. And she was not a reckless woman. If she had taken such a risk, then she must have felt it was worth it.

“And how long do you plan to keep us here?”

“I asked the driver to return for us in a week’s time. That was this morning.”

“Come here,” Matthias commanded.

She jumped at his harsh tone, frozen to the spot. Would he rail against her, like her father had done on so many occasions?

“Come. Here,” he said again, more forcefully this time.

Her legs moved of their own accord, closing the short distance between them. Matthias was still trussed up, his hands tied. He couldn’t reach out far enough to get to her, even if he wished to. He was no danger to her.

She stopped in front of him, lowering herself onto the mattress.

“What is it?” she asked.

His gaze raked up her body before finally coming to rest on her breasts. She shifted uncomfortably, ill at ease with his scrutiny. She wasn’t under any illusions about her appearance. She wasn’t a great beauty. She wasn’t a delicate English rose. She was comely enough, she supposed—but plain and far too bookish for any handsome, well-connected gentleman to take notice.

“Untie these restraints and I vow to forgive this alarmingly wide lapse in judgment,” he said stiffly—as though he were struggling to keep his countenance.

She couldn’t allow that. The second she released him he would find a way back to Gretna Green in search of Evelyn.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I think not.”

“You drugged me.” A statement, not a question.

“Perhaps.”

He pushed out an angry breath. “How long was I asleep?”

She had to be careful about what she told him. With too much information, he might puzzle out where they were—or at the very least, where they were likely to be.

“A day and a half,” she said truthfully. But she would not tell him how much of that time they’d spent traveling.

“Then there is still time.”

She lifted a brow, questioning.

“To retrieve Evelyn and return to London,” he clarified. “So we can all put this whole sordid affair behind us and I can return to my life.”

His words echoed in her head.
So we can put this whole sordid affair behind us.

Was he referring to their night together? Granted, nothing had happened—at least, she was relatively sure nothing had happened—but still, it hurt more than it should have.

Stung, she jerked back, ignoring his statement. “Are you hungry? I have a meat pie down in the kitchen.”

“You cooked?” The words were said with such acidity, she flinched. He sounded like her father, who questioned her ability to do
anything.

Instead of answering his question, she glared at him. “Do you want the pie or not?”

“Untie me,” he commanded.

She nodded once. “I will bring the pie up.” Smiling sweetly, she rose from the bed. As soon as she reached the door, she turned back to face him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Minutes later, she returned with the pie and a small pitcher of ale. The pie was cold, but she hadn’t the patience to heat it up. Though, in truth, she feared she might burn it. As she’d never used an oven before, it was a more than likely outcome.

When she walked into the bedroom, she halted midstep. “Matthias!” she breathed. He’d managed to tangle himself somehow, his body contorted as he struggled to rip the ties binding him forcibly from the headboard. “Stop, you’ll injure yourself.”

He relaxed his muscles and glared at her. “Better than being trussed up like a pig.”

She set the pie and ale down on the night table. “If you had vowed to leave Evelyn alone, then I wouldn’t have had to restrain you.” She took the fork and speared a large piece of pie. “So, you see, this is all your own fault.”

If it were possible to glare harder than he already was, that’s exactly what he did. She held the fork up to his mouth.

“Come now, open up. I’m certain you must be famished.”

Anger rolled off him in waves, but she attempted to ignore it. Of course he would be angry. What man wanted to be drugged, kidnapped and tied up? It was a perfectly reasonable reaction.

But she also knew she could do nothing to assuage him. Her word to Evelyn was more important than Matthias’s injured pride. Hopefully, one day, he would come to understand that. But knowing Matthias, a unicorn would fall from the sky before he understood her motives.

“You have already proven yourself untrustworthy with my food and drink,” he said with narrowed eyes.

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes at his suspicion. “You are already tied up,” she said. “I have no need to drug you again.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough—or perhaps he was just famished. He opened his mouth, allowing her to slip the fork between his lips. Chewing slowly, he kept his gaze fixed on her.

When he finished, he licked the crumbs off his lips with this long, sensual tongue. Gwen stared at the action unabashedly. What would that tongue feel like trailing down her body, across her sensitive skin, swirling around her nipples?

She shifted in an attempt to relieve the sudden ache that had bloomed between her thighs. But it did little good. She was still aching, still longing to be touched by those strong hands and that enticing tongue.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she continued to feed him. Hunger darkened his gaze and her heart leapt in response.

What sort of husband would Matthias make? She knew his character—better than most, some would say—and knew him to be amiable. But he was also a hopeless philanderer, fickle, and inordinately stubborn—not qualities she could entertain in a husband.

She would never lower her sights so decidedly. She had witnessed firsthand the pain and devastation a husband’s philandering could cause—her parents had made that quite plain. Indeed, over the years,
both
her parents had had their indiscretions—the consequences of which had caused Gwen more heartbreak than they ever cared to acknowledge.

As a result, Gwen had vowed long ago that she would never enter into such a marriage. Ever. Life was far too short to live in such misery.

Not that Matthias had a mind to offer for her hand. On a good day, she suspected he saw her as nothing more than a nuisance—the best friend of
his
best friend’s sister. Surely theirs was a loose, regrettable connection in his view.

After he had finished the pie and drank more than half of the ale, she stood, taking the dirty plate in one hand. “There is a pot beside the bed, in case you wish to…” Her cheeks flushed. “Just…in case,” she finished.

“Yes, it was no small feat, but I managed to make use of it already.”

“Capital,” she said awkwardly, because she didn’t know what else to say. She just thanked the heavens she hadn’t walked in on him using it.

Even if she was just a tiny bit curious...