Throwing the hood back and shedding her cloak, Taylor shoved it into Clay’s stomach and turned on her heel, moving down toward the carriage.

“What are you doing?” The earl’s shout followed her. “Come back here this instant.”

Tears escaped but immediately washed away, mingling with the droplets of the rain. She wouldn’t allow them to see her cry. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they could still hurt her. Her anger regarding their carelessness and lack of responsibility, they were accustomed to. Her temper, when unleashed, was the only thing they feared and respected. And in moments like this, she valued it, as it provided her with a shield.

One foot sank into the mud, followed by the other, as she trudged toward the carriage. With each step, she tried to silence the haranguing voices behind her and instead focus on the men who’d paused for breath. They were all staring as she approached.

“Shall we?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves to the elbows.

“M’lady, you shouldn’t.” The driver glanced uncertainly at his master and back at her.

She shook her head at his soft-spoken words. “I believe I should. Let’s do this now. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Ignoring the murmurs of protest coming from the others, she put her shoulder against the rear of the vehicle. She braced her feet, and after a moment’s hesitation, the men returned to their places.

On three, the driver shouted his commands to the horses and they all pushed. But the carriage remained anchored in place.

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 was a woman. A strong, financially independent woman.

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 here, helping these men,” she said tensely.

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.”

He wasn’t giving up. With a resigned sigh, she took his hand, and he began to pull her up.

“I think I can manage from…” Her words were lost as her feet flew out from beneath her and she collapsed against him.

“I’m certain you can.”

One cheek lay on his chest. Dirt smeared his waistcoat. She took the time to inhale his enthralling scent and appreciated the powerful muscles supporting her before slowly trying to push herself away. “That was unexpected.”

“I must confess, such unexpected outcomes are far more enjoyable than the….”

He slipped, and suddenly she was holding him up. His face was pressed against her breasts. His arms wrapped around her hips. She tried to help him to straighten up, but instead, he held on tighter. The ridiculousness of the moment was colossal. She wanted to laugh. And from the little that Taylor could see of his face, he was amused too.

When he got his feet under him, she let go at the same time that he did.

“I think I’ll be fine now,” she murmured. “If you’d be so kind as to…”

Suddenly, she was on her way down again, one leg heading for Aberdeen and the other toward Edinburgh. Somehow, she’d turned in his arms, and he was holding her up, his hands just beneath her breasts, squeezing her against him.

“My apologies.”

“Perfectly fine,” she managed to chirp. “Your intention was quite chivalrous.”

For the first time in her life, a man was touching her breasts, her bottom, every inch of her—front and back—but none of it was in the cause of romance.

She finally stood, and he released her. Taylor turned. Both of them now having regained their footing, she hazarded a glance. His shirt and waistcoat and trousers were as filthy as hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “That was my fault.”

“Hardly. The pleasure was entirely mine, liebling.”

She heard the huskiness in his voice, but hers didn’t sound any better. She felt warm and tingly and excited, regardless of the ludicrous circumstances.

“You’re shivering. May I assist you into the carriage?”

Taylor was shivering. Too soon, reality had returned. She still hadn’t really looked him in the face, and she was embarrassed to do so now. But it couldn’t be avoided. And when she did, she wished the ground would open and swallow her entirely.

The stranger was beautiful, the embodiment of every woman’s dreams. Water glistened on the sharp planes of high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were full, and his tanned and weathered skin indicated that he was a man who spent a great deal of time outdoors. His eyes had the grey-green hue that the sea took on in a storm. And they were focused on her.

Her skin warmed. A delicious knot formed in her belly. Taylor’s breath caught in her chest. She averted her gaze, staring at his lips. That was no help. Her heart drummed so loud against the walls of her chest that he had to hear it.

“You’ll catch a fever standing here in the cold. Please allow me to escort you to your carriage.”

She already had a fever, and it had nothing to do with the cold and the weather. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, but I can manage.”