For The Love Of My Scotsman

A Handsome Rescuer

Fear burned within Lottie, a blinding terror that she hadn't felt since the night she had killed Monsieur Le Coquin. "Let go of me," she cried, prying at the fingers that clutched her arm tightly.

"Not until you agree to my demand, Miss Lottie. That is how blackmail works, you see—" Mr. Farraday's calm words were cut off sharply as someone grabbed him by the collar from behind. He gurgled as the hand tightened, causing his cravat to cut against his throat.

"The wee lass said to let go," a deep voice said and the man, hidden from Lottie's view by Mr. Farraday's head, wrenched Mr. Farraday away from Lottie, tossing him like a ragdoll against the bushes.

Lottie looked up at her rescuer as he stepped into the moonlight. She would recognize those gentle brown eyes and tousled black hair anywhere. "T-Thomas?"

The young man who towered over her smiled in a shy, crooked way. "Aye, Miss Lottie."

Her relief made her forget any sense of propriety and she lurched forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as her knees buckled. Thomas Hawthorne. Her rescuer. The man who had defended her and helped her kill Monsieur Le Coquin that night in the old mill. The only man—other than her brother-in-law—that she could trust.

Thomas had been a stranger then, just a passerby who heard her screams and came to her aid just in time. Thomas had held Le Coquin back long enough for Lottie to wrap an old pulley system's rope around her attacker and hoist him over a hole in the floor. The rigging had been too old, however, and the ropes snapped. Some might have said that it was an accident that Le Coquin fell four stories to his death. But Lottie had known the ropes would break. She had known exactly what would happen to the man who had tormented her for the last two years.

Awkwardly, Thomas patted Lottie on the back in return with one of his large hands as if afraid he might break her. Keeping one arm around her shoulders, he turned to look at Mr. Farraday, who had just managed to detangle himself from the brambles.

"Ah, I see that scandals abound with you, Miss Lottie," Mr. Farraday scoffed, brushing dead leaves from his coat. "Caught in a compromising position with yet another man, I see."

"I'm just Lord Greyville's stable hand," Thomas said, his quiet voice rumbling in a dangerous manner. "Any servant would come to the defense of their master's charge."

Lottie looked up at him sharply. William's stable hand? Was he lying to protect her honor again?

"Now," Thomas gently pressed Lottie behind him and marched several steps forward to loom above Mr. Farraday. "What business do ye have with Miss Lottie?"

Mr. Farraday eyed Thomas for a long moment and something flickered in his eyes. Lottie would have called it recognition. "A stable hand." Mr. Farraday sucked his teeth thoughtfully. Finally, he bowed slightly to Lottie.

As he passed Thomas, he paused beside Lottie under the guise of straightening his cravat. He whispered so quietly that she doubted Thomas could hear. "I shall see you tomorrow at Lord Greyville's house party. We will finish our discussion then. And if you try to plan something, remember this: what I possess is enough to shock even the Prince Regent."

With a gleam in his eye, he continued with a confident stride back towards the ball.

This is a dream. Lottie's legs felt numb and she stumbled once he vanished from sight. A nightmare. How can he possibly know my secret?

Thomas caught her with one hand around her waist and the other at her elbow. "Miss Lottie?" he asked. "Who was that man? What does he want?"

Lottie stared blindly ahead, her mind working at a furious pace. She had to stop this. If her secret was revealed, then everything that William and Fidelia had fought for, everything Lottie had been through, it would all be for nothing. "His name is Mr. Farraday."