Page 86

“Anyway, they dragged me from the carriage and kept me prisoner for three days,” she said matter-of-factly. She peeked up at him, spying his horrified expression.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he muttered.

Minerva shrugged. It was a long time ago.

“And yet, it still affects you now? You still dream of it?”

She nodded slowly, staring at glowing embers. “I thought I was going to die. They threatened it regularly. She squeezed her hands more tightly together. They said if my father did not pay the ransom, they would take great pleasure in killing me.”

“Bastards.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “If I’d have been your pa, they’d have been lucky to live.”

“Well, somehow I was found, and no ransom was paid.” She offered a tight smile. “It is all a bit of a blur, really. I believe the men were sentenced to be hung.”

“Good.”

She could feel his gaze tracing her profile.

“You said you were a nervous traveler? Is this why?”

Meeting his gaze, she nodded. “I am guilty of trying to make light of it, but the kidnapping changed everything. I used to enjoy everything about life, but now, I struggle to go anywhere or do anything. I cannot be around strangers or do anything new or exciting.” She gave a light laugh. “It is a miracle I made it all the way to Scotland without panicking and turning around, but my grandpapa set me this task to help me, and I am determined to honor his memory.”

“You are a courageous lass.”

“And you do not think I am entirely insane?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. I challenge the strongest man to suffer what you did as a wee lass and not have nightmares.”

Minerva dropped her forehead against his chest and smiled to herself. He had to be the first to truly understand. Why on earth did the best man she had ever met have to be a Scottish landowner and not some English gent? Mama would be thrilled if she was spending time with such a man.

Though, given she never spent any time with men and had no prospects at all, perhaps Mama would not mind so much. She still would not approve of this scenario, however, and certainly not with his methods for comforting her.

Well, propriety be damned. She was trying new things and being held in the arms of a handsome Scotsman and kissing him was certainly something new.

Chapter Seven

Lachlan shoved the door shut against the chilly morning air. The breeze swept a few stray leaves across the tiled floor. Though summer was trying its best to make an appearance, with the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, the wind still pummeled the exposed farmhouse. It did not make his early morning tasks any easier.

The scent of smoke reached him. He grimaced. There would only be one person cooking, and it would be Minerva. He had to give it to her, the lass was determined. He kicked off his boots, put them by the door, and stepped through into the kitchen. Instead of the smoke-filled room he had anticipated, plates were set out on the table, a chunk of bread accompanying them with jam, honey, and butter laid out. She turned to him with a shy smile from her spot by the stove.

“The food is nearly ready.” She picked up the pan, carefully wrapping a cloth around the handle before ladling sausages and bacon onto a plate. She placed the plate onto the center of the table. “I hope it is cooked enough. As you know, my experience with cooking is limited.”

He suspected even if it was undercooked, he’d risk dying of a sore stomach just to make her smile. But when he leaned over to peer at the food, it all looked perfectly done.

“You are a quick learner, lass.”

She beamed at him as she served up the food. “I will take this out to Mr. Johnson and Mr. Young. Neither think it isappropriate to eat with me.” She rolled her eyes. “And I have warmed a little broth from last night’s food for Mary. I do not think her stomach will take much more than that.”

“She is still unwell?”

Minerva grimaced. “Yes. She is still very weakened. However, she is doing much better and getting stronger by the day.”

He knew what the grimace was for. She was here for a purpose, and with her maid being sick, her journey was delayed. He had a solution for that, but he was not certain she would say aye. Hell, he was not certain of anything, not after last night.

This woman, with her shy smiles and innocent eyes, showed more strength than he’d seen in a hundred Scotsmen. What she had been through was unfathomable to him. And yet, here she was, cooking breakfast and dismissing the silly etiquette that meant her men could not eat with her.

“I shall take these out to them.” She picked up two plates and nodded her head toward the chair he favored. “Have a seat, and I shall join you shortly.”

Though this was not his own house, he was not certain if he should enjoy being ordered around by her, but there was something rather pleasant about it. Maybe because he would rather see her like this than racked with tears. It’d been why he had kissed her. How else was he to get her to stop?