Page 3 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge (Safely in Scotland #3)

S tepping out of the castle, Reese Maclanahan, Earl of Breckenridge, took a deep breath of salty, morning air and felt all his worries melt away. Perhaps that was an overestimation. A large portion of his worries melted away, some were stuck fast and never seemed to budge.

Since he’d only arrived home to Slains Castle late last night, he was hopeful the remaining concerns would scatter with a brisk walk on the beach escorted by the only female he knew could be trusted.

“Belle, get out of there,” he called to the deerhound who had been eager to have her master home until she caught sight of a hare in the brush. With a sniff, the large, gray dog shook her shaggy coat and came lumbering back to his side.

He smiled up at the blue sky. It would be a warm day, even if the morning still carried a bit of a chill. He loved being home in Scotland over the busyness of London.

As they carefully traversed the steps down to the shore, Reese frowned at the slight ache in his leg.

While his injury was nearly a year old, and he no longer walked with a limp, it was a frequent reminder of how close he’d come to never seeing the sight of the ocean breaking itself on the rocky shore again.

Even his closest friends didn’t know what had truly happened. He was forced to lie and say he’d been thrown from his horse. Such was the life of an agent of the Home Office. Which was why he’d given it up this season.

A man became too cautious once he’d faced such danger and barely walked away.

He looked around now for a different type of danger in the form of some young lady ready to catch him in a compromising situation.

He’d been lucky to have escaped London without a wife after the last trap had nearly succeeded. He’d not been prepared for his own mother to play a role in his demise.

Of course, she’d said it was for his own good, and the chit, a Miss Agatha Renway, was from one of the most noble families, or perhaps it had been that her bloodline could be traced back centuries, or mayhap even that her teeth were in good repair.

He couldn’t rightly remember as he’d set his staff to packing immediately, so he could leave.

It was one thing to have to navigate the desperate mamas who hoisted their girls on any man with a title and two coins to rub together. But to have his own mother be a part of the treachery was too much.

He may have gone to one of his other country homes that were closer, but he’d always felt at home here at what seemed like the edge of the earth.

He’d spent most of his youth at Slains until he’d gone off to school in Edinburgh.

But that was not the reason he chose this home from the others for his escape.

No, it was because his mother—an Englishwoman through and through—hated Scotland for having had to live here with the auld earl for far too long. She’d vowed never to return after his father had died six years ago.

Never still seemed like too soon to have to see his mother, the traitor, again. He knew he’d forgive her eventually, but some time apart was appreciated.

On the beach, Belle came rushing up with a stick almost as long as her body.

Using his foot to break the limb into a more manageable piece, Reese gave it a great throw at the edge of the surf and smiled as Belle took off after it.

The dog deftly maneuvered the rocky shore before she jumped into the waves to retrieve it and brought it back so he might do it again.

She would be content for him to do it all day long, and at the moment he didn’t think he would mind so much. Throwing a stick for his beast of a dog gave him time to sulk.

It wasn’t only his mother’s duplicity that had him leaving London in such a rush.

It was different being in town for the Season without the excitement of his more important work.

It was one thing to attend a ball as a reason to gain access to Lord Ruston’s study so he might get a look at his ledgers and report back to the Home Office, yet another to attend only to dance and partake in watered-down lemonade while evading the plethora of debutantes chasing him.

While that was part of the reason he’d not enjoyed himself, he had to admit there was yet another, more personal, cause of his hasty retreat.

He was lonely. His best friends had stayed in the country this year with their families.

There were plenty of men that would have welcomed him at their gaming tables or shared a bottle of whisky.

But after spending time with his friends and their newfound happiness in the most conventional of places, Reese had conceded his fight to remain a bachelor.

He’d even gone so far as to ask a lady he’d taken a liking to for her hand.

And she’d said no.

No. To him. An earl, and one of the richest men in the entire kingdom.

Miss Sheridan had passed on his proposal so she might marry a second son of a baron.

Reese wanted to be a better man and wish her every happiness, and in truth, he did.

But it seemed especially painful after all his reluctance to be married that the time he’d given into a brief display of emotions and actually asked someone to marry him, he’d been rejected.

Now, with the sea air filling his head, he could see what a boon it had been that she’d refused him so she might instead have a love match.

He’d been in a low place, missing his friends, which had apparently caused some sort of temporary madness.

He was glad now, though the wound still stung when he recalled her look of pity.

It figured the one woman he might have considered seemed to be the only unmarried lady in London not attempting to dig her claws into his flesh.

“You are a loyal girl,” he said to Belle as she brought the stick back and beat him about the legs with her large, soggy tail.

He tossed the stick as far as he could down the beach and watched as she ran after it, and then past it to a large lump lying in the sand.

“Belle! Belle, come here at once!” he called and then picked up his pace when she didn’t pay him any heed.

“Don’t ye dare eat whatever it is you’ve found.

You do remember what happened the last time.

” But, of course, she didn’t listen as she began snuffling around the thing and barking.

“You were sick for days,” he said, as if he could remind the dog of what came from bad decisions.

When he got closer, he heard the dog whining as she nosed the lump. At least she wasn’t eating it. But then he noticed the lump was a mound of light fabric, and a few steps later he saw a pale, slender arm.

“Dear God,” he whispered as he ran forward. Her hair was black as midnight and he remembered the stories when he’d been a lad about kelpies. Beings that wore the skin of a seal while in the water, but could remove it to walk upon land to lure a man to the depths.

He shook his head, thinking he may have gotten the kelpie tale mixed up with that of a siren or a mermaid. It didn’t matter. She obviously had legs for they were exposed and he took note of her small, stockinged feet.

For a fraction of a moment Reese wondered if this was yet another trap to compromise him into marriage, but if it were, it was surely a dire one.

Belle whined again and licked the woman’s fingers.

The woman groaned softly, which allowed Reese to let loose the breath he’d been holding.

He’d not wanted to touch her for fear she were dead.

He’d been unfortunate to find one of their agents after his death, and the memory of the man’s cold skin still haunted him.

The woman moaned a little louder as Reese knelt beside her.

She was on her back with the weight of her hair covering her face.

He thought she might be better able to breathe if he got the mass of inky tendrils out of the way.

Pushing it back from her face, his breath caught when he stared down at her.

She was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Even in this state with her hair hanging in clumps and her skin pale and chilled.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her before and looking at her clothing told him nothing, for she wore only a cotton shift. Despite its sturdy weight, it was wet and clung to every curve of her body. Curves he, as a gentleman, should not be looking at.

Turning his gaze back to her face, he caught Belle licking the poor woman in the same way she often woke him.

“Belle, nay.” He pushed the dog back but she only circled round to the other side to continue her overeager welcome.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open, and he was stunned by how green they were.

“Help,” she said.

“Aye, of course. Belle, stop licking the poor woman. This is Belle, she’s not a danger, just a menace. I’m Reese.”

The woman nodded slightly as if she understood what he’d said, and then she leaned over and retched all over his second-best boots.