Page 20 of Hope in the Highlands (Seduced in Scotland #1)

The horse’s hooves beat against the earth, heavy and fast, as Graham wrapped the reins tightly around his fists. It had still been dark that morning when he woke, mouth dry and head splitting in his uncle’s lard. After several bangs and shouts, a sheepish footman had let him out. Groggy, ashamed, and miserable, Graham had headed to the stables with an idea to return home, but once on his horse, he hadn’t found his way there. The path he took had winded and turned and he’d followed it without caring. Hell, it could have taken him to the edge of the Inner Hebrides and he wouldn’t have been concerned.

He had lost Hope.

She had asked him to go and though it had tortured him to heed her, he had. He would not bully or berate her into staying with him. Graham had already done enough damage and though he needed her desperately, like the pines needed rain, he couldn’t bring himself to cause her anymore pain.

He rode hard across the harsh landscape, as if he were trying to outrun his mistakes. The thundering of the horse’s gait across rock and dirt was nearly loud enough to block out his own thoughts. A hard rain had begun, stinging against his skin as he rode faster, desperate to distract himself from his own thoughts. But no matter how far or how long he went, Hope was with him. She had become a part of him. He could go to the end of the earth, and still, she would be there, deep in his heart.

It was nearly noon when his senses seemed to return, and having a care not to ride the horse to death, he decided to return to his hunting lodge.

Cutting through the forest via the northern road, he tilted his head up and watched the grayish sky disappear beneath the long pine branches. The woods engulfed him in a dark, cold embrace. If only I could explain everything to her , he thought bleakly as his horse trotted down the dark, rain-soaked path.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but he had managed to do so and it tormented him. Images of Hope danced across his mind as he rode. Her kind, accepting eyes, her dark hair that she often played with when she was deep in thought. How she would drift off sometimes, only to snap back to herself with a new perspective. She was thoughtful, smart, too beautiful for his liking. He wanted to hold her against his chest and grab fistfuls of her hair. He wanted to bury himself inside of her and breathe her in for always.

But she had sent him away and he had no right to her. Not now, not ever again.

Turning the corner of the last crop of trees before reaching the house, he saw a group of people—no, a group of women—standing in the rain before his front door. His butler stood before them, seemingly arguing. He frowned. What the devil was going on?

“What’s this now?” he asked, swinging off his steed as he reached them. Belle, Rose, Faith, and Grace turned to face him, each with a different expression. Belle appeared apologetic, as did Rose, while Faith looked furious and Grace worried. Something was wrong. “What’s happened?”

“Sir, these ladies are looking for their sister,” his butler said. “I’ve explained that neither she, nor you, have been here for days, yet they still refuse to leave.”

“Why should we take your word for it?” Faith asked, glaring back at the butler before snapping her head back to face Graham. “Where is she?”

“What do you mean, where is she?” he asked, his own temper flaring at Faith’s accusation. “I’m not the one in charge of her.”

“No, thank heavens for that,” Faith said. “Or lord knows what sort of fiendish things you’d force her into.”

“Faith, that’s not fair,” Grace said, stepping forward. She moved to stand in between Faith and Graham. “Please, Mr. MacKinnon. Hope left this morning and hasn’t returned. We thought at first she might have come to see you. but…”

“But what?”

“But we found this note,” she said, her hand dipping to her side. She pulled it out and handed to Graham. “None of us believed she would really go see him. After all, he had hurt her terribly when we were in London. But at this point, I think it’s safe to assume that that’s where she’s gone—to see Mr. Pennington. And to that end, we need your help.”

The mere mention of that man’s name made Graham want to clench his teeth and snarl, but to hear that Hope had potentially gone off with him, well that deflated him. Reading the note in his hand, he noted the familiar way the man addressed her, as if he felt entitled to such intimacy. Hanging his head, he pushed through the women and entered his house.

“Mr. MacKinnon?” Grace called out from behind him.

If Hope wanted to run off with Pennington, who was Graham to stop her?

He shrugged off his soaked overcoat and tossed it a waiting butler and headed towards the library. Much to his annoyance, the sound of wet leather boots followed him. The hell with them , he thought as he reaches the library. He crossed the room in seconds and began pouring himself a drink.

With his back to them, he swallowed the first quickly and then poured himself another.

“For heavens sakes, MacKinnon, what is wrong with you?” Belle finally spoke, striking her cane on the carpeted floor. “Go get her.”

Graham turned, glaring at all four women who stood in the doorway, watching him like he had lost his mind.

“No.”

Belle actually gaped at him. Pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin with withering scorn, she scowled at him.

“What the devil do you mean no?”

“Exactly that,” he said, taking another bracing, burning sip of the scotch. “I’ll not be bothering Miss Sharpe anymore.”

“But why? Don’t you care about Hope?” Grace asked worriedly, stepping forward. “You must go after her.”

“It’s her prerogative to go off with Mr. Pennington, who am I to interfere?”

“Her fiancé, for one,” Faith said, her tone cold.

“A fact that has bothered you from the beginning,” he countered, looking at her.

“Yes, when I thought you meant to use her,” Faith said pointedly. “But since she is not here, and the alternative is that she ran off with that coward Pennington, then I must insist that you go after her at once.”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, but that’s not true,” Rose said, stepping forward, in line with Grace. “Hope is very fond of you.”

“She was. Until she learned of our little plan,” he said sarcastically, raising his glass to a bitter-faced Belle.

“You prideful fool,” Belle snapped. “So, you’ll let her be carried off by Pennington? A man not worthy of her? A man, who once asked her to refuse to acknowledge her own sisters?”

He glanced at Grace. And then Faith.

“Not an unreasonable request.”

“Why you—”

“Mr. MacKinnon, you don’t mean that,” Grace said, silencing her sister with the wave of her hand. “Regardless of how you feel about us, you would never make Hope choose. Would you?” He wanted to say yes, if only to cast these banshees from his house, but even if he said the words, he knew they wouldn’t believe them. Even Faith rolled her eyes, knowing the truth. So, he remained silent. “Please, Mr. MacKinnon. Please, you must go after her.”

“She doesn’t want me,” he said again, his eyes searching the nearly empty scotch glass in his hand as he brought it up to finish. “She told me to leave.”

“For a time, not forever,” Rose said earnestly. “Please.”

“You must,” Belle said, striking her cane once more, as if it were some magical staff that could command him to do her bidding.

Daft old woman.

“Surely you know she doesn’t belong with Pennington,” Grace said. “Don’t you?”

The pleading in her tone was nearly enough to turn Graham’s heart, but the fact that Hope had dismissed him was enough to ignore all their pleas. She didn’t want him and—

“Mr. MacKinnon,” Faith said, causing him to look up. “My sister does not deserve a lifetime with that man. And you owe her a debt.” She paused, looking as if she was bracing herself to do something deeply distasteful, her throat bobbing up and down as if trying to swallow her own tongue. “Will you, please , go and return her to us?”

Graham stared at her.

“She may want to be with him. Return to London and all that.”

“And if she truly does, we will accept it,” Faith said, peering around her to the others. “But we need to hear it from her own mouth first.”

“So why not go after her yourselves?”

“Why indeed.” Faith let out a bitter laugh. “I told you, Aunt Belle. Coming here was a waste of time.”

“I was hoping to be proven wrong,” Belle said, her judgmental stare locked on Graham. Then she added loudly. “But I suppose it’s fitting that two innocent, young ladies and an elderly woman using a cane would find no help from the likes of a McKinnon!”

He knew he was being goaded. Belle’s blatant attempt to guilt him into going after Hope was weak at best, but it didn’t matter. He’d likely never hear the end of it if he didn’t go. And truth be told, he wanted an excuse to see Hope again.

But he wouldn’t give Belle the satisfaction of seeing him eagerly run off. So, he rolled his eyes and slowly put down his unfinished his drink.

“Very well,” he said, stalking towards the doorway. The women parted quickly. “I’ll go now. But if she tries to throw something at me, I’ll be coming to you lot for restitution.”

“Mr. Pennington was staying at the Cock and Sparrow.”

“Yes, the note said as much,” he said, searching his pocket for the crumbled piece of paper. He handed it to Grace, who was at his heels.

“Oh, but sir, should you change?” his butler asked. “Your clothes are…” Graham gave him a piercing glare. “Very good, sir.”

Graham was out of the house and mounting his second draft horse, a buckskin-colored horse named Honeycomb in a matter of minutes. He was tired and his head was pounding. His muscles were sore and he was wet, filthy from the rain and the mud he’d accumulated from his morning ride, but none of it mattered.

Turning Honeycomb, he gave out an angry YAW and heeled his side. They took off like a shot, just as the rain stopped. The southern skies seemed to open as the clouds parted slowly, leading him towards the Cock and Sparrow Inn.