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A lone cart sat to the one side of the building, but there was no sign of any occupants, no dog barking, no farmer, or stable hands marching between the buildings. Lord, as much as she tried to avoid strangers, she really hoped there was someone around now. Aware of her driver and the groom watching her carefully, she rapped on the door, having decided it would be better if a young lady requested assistance rather than the rather large Mr. Johnson or the tall Mr. Young.

The door eased open after so long that she thought her legs might be frozen in place. Having given up her pelisse and not managing to retrieve a new coat, the wind bit at her bare arms and cheeks. She heard the occupant before spotting him in the doorway, his low Scottish burr bringing relief despite the words he uttered.

“What the bloody hell…” The man paused as his gaze connected with hers. A dark eyebrow lifted, one that matched the thick, wild black hair that spilled slightly over his forehead and touched the collar of his shirt.

Minerva never really paid attention to men, and now was certainly not the time to begin caring for them, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her this Scottish stranger was deliciously, deliciously attractive. And, apparently, very annoyed at her intrusion.

Chapter Three

Lachlan uttered another curse word under his breath, one that was a little rougher than bloody hell. One that this woman had likely never heard. Shivering and frail, in a flimsy gown hardly made for the ever-changing Scottish weather, her pale cheeks were tinged with a little red, implying that she had been standing outside of the farmhouse for too long. He glanced at the carriage behind her, gleaming with its bold livery, declaring that it belonged to someone important. Who, he did not know, but he recognized the wealth behind it.

Which begged the question, why was this wealthy woman standing on his doorstep in nothing more than a slip of fabric that skimmed delicate curves and highlighted her attractiveness.

He could ask her that, of course, but all he could think about was the fact he was in short sleeves and filthy boots, having just been up to his knees in mud and probably pig shit—something this woman would know nothing about.

Oh, and there his mind went back to how beautiful she was. Wide blue eyes, a petite mouth set into a delicate chin, and porcelain skin that was so popular amongst the gentry. It was unlikely she ever spent time out of doors in a bid to maintain her unblemished skin. Though he was no stranger to attractive women, there was something wildly appealing about the innocence behind those blue eyes. He could not recall the last time he had looked at a woman and instantly been gut punched by desire.

“Um… Sir…” She twined her hands together in front of her, interlinking fingers that should have been covered in gloves. Why in the devil was this woman half-dressed and at his door?

“Aye?” he said a little too gruffly. If he’d have known there was going to be a beautiful woman at his door, he’d at least have taken the time to wash his hands. And change his boots. And wear clothes other than the scruffy garments. And run a damn comb through his hair.

Hell, he’d far rather have greeted her at his house in his full finery.

She took a marginal step back, her eyes widening further. If that was possible. Lachlan regretted his harsh tone and could only blame the strange tension knotting his stomach and having been caught off guard. He might not have been born a nobleman, but he had spent many years perfecting his manners. Apparently, he had forgotten all at the sight of her.

“Forgive me, for this intrusion, sir, but I have need of your help.”

He glanced at the carriage again, noting the sizeable driver and the tall groom. She was not without male help, so he could not fathom what she needed with him. Of course, if he could find his manners, he’d find out sooner rather than later.

He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, you caught me at a bad moment.” He gestured to his muddied state. “What aid can I give you, miss?”

“My maid is sick. Fevered. I fear we cannot travel any further. Do you know of a doctor close by or would you be able to provide her with a bed?” He peered at her fingers that twined even more tightly together, her knuckles blanching.

He noted that her hands shook slightly. He was a large man—taller even than the groom patiently waiting on the back of the carriage. Wide too. When he was not dressed elegantly, he wasaware he could be quite an intimidating sight, particularly given the random scars on his face—evidence of his past.

Lachlan relaxed his shoulders in a bid to make himself appear smaller. “The nearest doctor is at least a day away. Where is your maid? I’m no doctor, but I deal with sick animals regularly. Perhaps I can be of help.”

Her posture sagged, and a relieved smile spread across her face.

A smile that seemed to shoot directly to his heart, making it jolt. An inane reaction, to be sure. It was not the first time a woman had smiled at him, and it would not be the last. Given that he was still unmarried and owned a sizeable amount of Scottish land, even if he wasnew money, there was many a woman after his hand.

But women took time, and time he did not have.

“She is just in the carriage.” The woman hastened over and revealed the maid sprawled across the plush interior of the carriage.

Eyes closed, sweat dripping from her brow, it was clear the maid was sick indeed. Lachlan put his fingers to her fevered brow, drawing a breath through his teeth at the feel of the heat of her. “Has she vomited?”

The woman shook her head. “No, but she was complaining of feeling nauseated.”

Lachlan stepped into the carriage and slipped his arms under the woman. She barely uttered a noise as he lifted her limp body. He stepped out of the carriage and carried her toward the farmhouse. He nodded toward the groomsman. “Can you send your man for a doctor? I have a horse, if yours are in need of rest. You can take the carriage around the rear and feed and water the horses there.”

“Yes, I’m sure Mr. Young can fetch the doctor. He is an excellent rider.” She hastened back to the carriage, and he heardher giving orders as though she were a queen before she came to join him.

Lachlan carried the woman upstairs and pushed open the door with a boot. The tenant farmer had no children, so the other rooms were unoccupied, but thankfully, the bed was made. His unexpected guest dashed around the bed and drew back the sheets, allowing him to deposit the maid directly onto the mattress. He took a step back and eyed her.

“She seems fevered,” he commented.

The woman nodded, biting down on her bottom lip. “She was making noises earlier. She seems to have quietened, though.”