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She supposed she might never see Lachlan again. The mere thought made her heart ache. How odd it was that she could only know this man a few days and yet feel more comfortable, more content, and more confident in his presence than in anyone else’s.

A tiny droplet of water tickled the side of her nose. For a moment, Minerva feared she was crying at the thought of leaving Lachlan. The tightness in her throat refused to budge, but it was not tears. She glanced up at the darkening skies, the leaden clouds heavy and threatening. Another droplet followed then several more, slipping past her hat and clinging to her cheeks.

“Damn,” Lachlan muttered. “I had hoped the weather would hold out for a while.”

“It is getting heavier.” Minerva had to lift her voice as the clouds seemed to split and release a deluge of water upon them. The raindrops pounded the wagon, creating a cacophony, meaning she could hardly hear Lachlan.

He looped an arm around her and drew her into his body. There was no protecting her from the torrent, but she appreciated the warmth of him. The wheels began to slip on the sodden ground, and the horses looked miserable. He pulled the wagon up by a tumbled down old cottage.

“Go and take shelter, lass, I shall see to the horses.” He motioned to the cottage.

She shook her head vigorously. “It is not like I’ll get any wetter.”

She helped unshackle the horses and sheltered them as best as they could under the eaves of the house. The horse gave her a grateful look when she patted him down.

Once the animals were settled, they stepped into the darkened confines of the cottage. Only half the roof still existed, but it was enough to protect them from the rain. Minerva wrapped her arms about herself and shuddered. Trickles of rain had slipped under her hat and down the collar of her pelisse. She was certain not a single part of her was dry.

Lachlan reached for her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. She tried to smile, but her teeth rattled. He had fared no better. His shirt was almost see-through under his jacket, and his hair was sodden. With his lashes spiky, and droplets clinging to stubble on his jaw, he gave her a lopsided smile. Her heart practically ceased to beat. His dark gaze searched hers—what for, she could not say, but she hoped she gave him the right answer.

He drew her close with a groan and thrust a hand up under her hat, sending it tumbling to the floor. His lips claimed hers, seeking and fiery. Demanding and possessive. She gasped under the deluge of his kisses. He pulled back as quickly as he had started, leaving her breathless and wanting.

He grimaced. “I should not have done that.”

“But—”

“You’re the bonniest lass I have ever met. The kindest and sweetest too.” He turned away and thrust a hand through his hair. “Damn, I want to kiss you all the time.”

She wanted him to kiss her all the time too. She did not know how to say it. Or why he found kissing her so aggravating. She opened her mouth then closed it.

“We both know I should not be travelling with you alone.” He gave her a grim look. “Should word of this get out, you will be ruined. And I will be to blame.”

“This will not get out.”

“Regardless, I would act as a gentleman. I should not be taking advantage.”

Minerva scowled. As much as she appreciated his gentlemanly behavior, she was getting tired of this. “Am I not a woman who can think for herself?”

He sighed. “Minerva, you are new to all of this. The travelling to being with… well, with me. You said it yourself, you wish to try new things. Kissing is not something you should try with a man like me, however. It should be with someone who will court you in the right circumstances. With a damned chaperone.”

She bit down on her lip. He was not wrong. At least about the new experiences. Or about being with a chaperone. She wasn’t interested in someone who would court her properly. Goodness, she was in her mid-twenties now. If a man had not caught her interest by now, she could not see it happening anytime soon.

Of course, someone here had caught her interest.

Lachlan.

But he was so damned intent on playing the gentleman, that he did not seem to care what she actually wanted. Sometimes, she felt as though he was as trapped by his past as she was. Shelifted her chin. “Why are you so scared that someone will believe you’re not a gentleman?”

He peered at her. “Scared? I have no reason to be scared. But you do, lass.”

“We are not in the middle of London society. Should something happen—a mere kiss, for goodness sakes—there are no gossips to tattle on us.” Despite the chill in the air, she unwrapped her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “I have spent so long avoiding any experiences. Is it so wrong that I should wish to experience a kiss?”

“You have experienced a kiss.” He blew out a breath. “And another after that too. That is two too many.”

She shook her head at him. “You have nothing to prove to me, you know. Nor to anyone else, by the sounds of it. If someone knows you and does not respect you merely because of your past, that is their problem.”

“What does that mean?” His brows furrowed.

“All this talk of gentlemanly behavior, I know you insist on such because you fear how others will view you.”