His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts 1)

here would be a chance to marry me.” She shuddered and moved closer to Cam, as if needing his protection from her own thoughts.

“I have no right to call him out to avenge Lady Davenport’s death, therefore the best way to ruin the man is to wreak havoc with his finances. We will also start some rumors that will bring his honor into question.”

Bridget grinned. “I like it.”

He squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. “I thought you would. You are a bloodthirsty little chit under that gentle lady veneer. Must be the Scottish in you.”

She dipped her head. “’Tis a gift, my lord.”

…

Bridget slowed her steps as she descended the staircase from her bedchamber to the front door. Although still a bit sore from her toss the day before, she was determined to go hunting with the men. However, should she encounter any of the ladies, she would have to find a potted plant to hide behind. The whispers and gossip about her attire would keep them busy for the rest of the house party. And probably until the start of the next Season. But she had no qualms about what the men thought. If they found her less than desirable, then so be it.

Once free of the house, she headed to the stables, where several men had already gathered. As she strode up to the group, Cam turned in her direction after Lord Banfield said something to him.

Cam’s brows rose, and he broke from the crowd and strode directly to her, taking her by the elbow and moving back to the house. “What the devil are you doing, Bridget?”

She attempted to pull her arm free, but he held tight. “I am going shooting.”

“In breeches?” The horror in his voice almost made her laugh.

She tugged again, to no avail. “Yes. I can neither ride sidesaddle nor shoot with skirts wrapped around my legs.”

“Which is precisely why hunting is not a ladies’ sport.” The words barely made it past his tightened jaw.

“It is this lady’s sport.”

He continued to drag her, despite her pulling back with her full weight. Good heavens, the man was strong. She was no dainty lady, having inherited her Scottish forefathers’ strong frame and bulk, but he moved her as if she weighed no more than a mere child.

“What are you doing?” She panted, trying to catch a breath as he got closer to the house.

“I am returning you to spend the day with the ladies, doing all the proper things ladies do at a house party.”

When he loosened his hold, she was able to break free from his grasp. “I have never been subjected to the horrors of a house party before, but from what I learned from Minerva and your sister, all ladies do is sit around and gossip while the men do all the fun things.”

Cam stared at her, the two of them facing each other, both glaring, hands on hips, upper bodies leaning forward. “Go back into the house, Bridget, and take off those breeches and pretend you are a lady.”

“You mean an English lady. This Scottish lady wishes to hunt.” Her hand itched with the desire to slap his arrogant face. That would show him how much of a lady she was. Isn’t that what ladies did when men took advantage of them?

He ran his fingers through his hair and turned in a circle. “Dammit, Bridget, you could get shot.”

Ah, was he weakening? “The idea is to shoot the birds, my lord, or do you need instructions on how these things are done?”

He glared at her. “It is dangerous.”

“I rarely miss a target.”

He stopped and narrowed his eyes. “I assume this is a ridiculous question, but have you hunted before?”

She rolled her eyes, thinking of all the times she and Alasdair Douglas had ventured out together, hunting game for the table and birds for sport. The stable master had been her friend and teacher as much as an estate employee. He’d taught her many things besides riding astride.

“Yes. I have hunted before.” She closed her eyes and spoke as if to a slow-witted child.

“As your guardian, I am responsible for your reputation.”

Bridget raised her chin in the air. “I disagree, my lord. I am responsible for my reputation, and I fail to see how wearing sensible hunting clothes and engaging in a sport I am fond of, and quite good at, would affect my precious reputation.”

“That’s because you are Scottish.”