Rain pelted down on them. At least, her father was silenced for the moment. Again, they threw their weight into the effort, and the neighing of the horses was accompanied by the grunts and muttered profanities of the men.
Her feet sank in the mud up to her ankles. The exertion wore on her. She wasn’t used to strenuous physical labor, but she persevered. Still, there was no movement. Her breath caught in her chest with the next push, and she tasted the saltiness of tears on her lips.
She knew nothing about pushing carriages out of a ditch. She’d hoped to stir some shred of guilt in her brother. One person in this family needed to demonstrate some semblance of moral fiber. One person needed to show some appreciation for the efforts of others. She was also down here slogging in the muck to send a message to her father that he couldn’t hurt her. His insults meant nothing. She
Taylor closed her eyes and focused on the task as they started again, but she was suddenly aware of the presence of a man behind her.
“If you please, step aside and allow me to help.”
She didn’t know who he was and where he came from, but she wasn’t about to give up her place.
“My lady, I can be far more effective if you give me room.” The voice carried the hint of an accent.
A stranger had stopped to rescue them while her family stood watching. She edged over a little, not about to leave her position at the back of the carriage. “We appreciate your help, sir.”
“If you were to rejoin your party beneath the tree—”
“I’m staying
The newcomer acquiesced and shouldered in beside her. They all pushed together, and the carriage inched forward. He had shed his coat, and his satin waistcoat was already dark with rain. The soaked sleeves of his shirt were plastered over muscled arms. His hands, latched securely onto the spoke of a wheel, were large.
“Let go.” He still hadn’t looked at her, and it was the tone of a man accustomed to being obeyed, but she continued to hold on.
“I can’t. I won’t.”
They all heaved again. She realized she was little more than an ornament in the process. Taylor felt the raw power exuding from the man. The earthy, masculine scent of leather and fresh air filled her head. His face was turned away, and she stared at his wide shoulders.
The next concerted effort caused the carriage to shift with a jerk as the wheel popped up onto the surface of the road. But as it did, Taylor fell and slid down the bank of the ditch into the muck and the runoff from the rain. The vehicle continued to move, and a cheer went up from the men.
Taylor pushed herself onto all fours. Her hands were deep in the mud, her knees sunk in it, and filthy brown water dripped from her chin.
Shame and embarrassment washed through her, more painful than any physical distress. Here she was, an earl’s daughter. One of the richest women in Scotland. While her mother was alive, Taylor had been doted on, loved, cherished. But those days were gone. Today was proof of it. Here, in the presence of a stranger on a storm-soaked Highland road, she was on her hands and knees, chilled and wet and bedraggled—an object of derision in the eyes of everyone. And to what end? Simply to prove a point to her selfish family about character.
Tall boots, caked in mud, and muscular legs encased in buckskin came into her view. The man crouched and held out his hand. The palm was callused. Another cold wave of humiliation washed through her.
“Allow me.”
“Thank you. I can do this by myself.”
“I know you can. But please allow me to help. You’d do the same for me.”
Somehow, she couldn’t picture him groveling on all fours in the muck.
He produced a handkerchief from his waistcoat.
She shook her head. “It would be ruined.”
“It’s only a bit of cloth, made for this purpose.”
She reluctantly accepted it and wiped her eyes. A dark blot of mud covered the fine fabric.
“I’m sorry; it’s stained already.” Embarrassment thickened her voice.
“That was clearly its destiny, fulfilled in the hand of the worthiest of women.”
His kindness tugged at her heart. Hearing his subtle accent and gentle words, she envisaged him as a prince on a fine horse in some far-off land, rescuing damsels in distress like herself. Beginning to think she might simply be imagining this man, Taylor tried to claw her way up the low bank, only to slip back down.
“Please, will you deny this fellow traveler the same happy fate as his handkerchief?”
“I’m covered with mud.”
“What’s a smudge here or a smudge there?”
Taylor shook her head, unable to stop a smile from forming on her lips. He was definitely trying to make light of the situation. Still, she wasn’t ready to face him—face anyone.
“If you had not taken the plunge, then the task would have fallen to me. In every rescue, one person must be sacrificed. And you bravely took on that role yourself. Allow me to show my gratitude.”
