almost smiling as she spoke. For a minute, Brodie forgot about the gulf that lay between them. He forgot that he did not trust her or she him and that they were linked by scandal.
“Would you ever go to Africa?” he asked her.
“I believe I would, actually.” Her sudden, unguarded smile made his pulse quicken. “I would sail from Portsmouth to Gambia and venture into the wilds there. It would be dangerous, especially for a woman, but if I could find an exploration party who would let me come, I would join it.”
“Really?” Brodie pictured Lydia wearing breeches, her hair pulled into a tail at the nape of her neck as she sailed into the Congo in a shallow boat while watching a red-gold horizon. It was a breathtaking vision.
“Would you?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said. “If I was able.”
“Are you not able?” Lydia tilted her head as she closed the book and set it on her lap.
“I wasn’t, not for a long time. Until recently, my family faced difficult days. We struggled to keep our home. It’s only now that we are more able to do the things we longed to do for years.”
“Your brother married Joanna Lennox, didn’t he?” She was being polite by asking, even though she knew the answer. “I’ve heard it was a bit scandalous. There was talk of Gretna Green and a mad chase by Joanna’s older brother and his friends, the League of Rogues.”
“Aye, Brock did marry Joanna. Do you know her?”
“Yes, we’re friends. But I admit I’ve not seen her in some months.”
“I don’t think she would be friends with the likes of you.” Brodie leaned back and stroked his chin. He wanted to push her, to test her limits.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Joanna is a sweet, kind woman. She doesna make friends with scheming vipers such as you.”
“Oh, stop it! Just stop being such a bully,” Lydia hissed.
“In this coach, only one of us has been kidnapped.” He reconsidered his words when she cocked an eyebrow. “That is, only one of us has been bound and . . .” The eyebrow arched higher. “Well, only one of us has been drugged with laudanum.”
“And only one of us has been held at knifepoint,” Lydia countered.
“You seem to be mistaking revenge for being wronged,” Brodie shot back as he leaned forward to talk to her. “Never forget, lass, that you started all this.” The air tensed between them in that instant, and Lydia reacted instinctively to his aggressive invasion of her space.
Lydia struck, not with an open palm, but a balled fist to his jaw. The blow stung, to be sure, but his hard face had met with harder blows over many years of boxing and brawls. He touched his face, puzzled. At the ball, she’d given him a delicate, even childish slap. Now he was facing a woman who was upset, truly lashing out.
“Ouch.” She clutched her hand against her chest. “I think I broke my hand on your hard head!”
“Serves you right,” he muttered, expecting her to continue to bemoan an exaggerated injury. But her face continued to be lined with pain. A sinking feeling in his chest quickly deflated his temper.
“All right, let me see, lass.” He waved a hand at her.
“I’m fine.”
He could see clearly how much she was hurting now. He joined her on the other seat and reached for her hand. She flinched as he pulled her arm toward him, examining her wrist and hand.
“Does this hurt?” He rotated her wrist, and she bit her lip and nodded.
“And this?” He flexed her delicate pale fingers, trying not to let his mind run away with images of her slender hands touching his body.
“That doesn’t hurt too much,” she whispered. “It’s more my wrist, I think.”
Brodie moved his fingers back to her wrist, gently massaging, but she would need to rest it for it to fully heal.
“You’ve likely sprained it, lass. It is an easy mistake. When you mean to punch a man, never let your wrist bend.” He raised up her good arm and balled her fingers into a fist. “Swing slow, at my jaw,” he commanded. She stared at him in disbelief. He sighed. “Do it.”
She slowly swung her uninjured hand at him. He caught her fist in his palm and used his other hand to show her where her wrist was bent incorrectly—just a little force caused it to bend even farther.
“See? That’s how you hurt yourself. Keep it straight.”
“Oh, I see.” Lydia straightened her wrist