Rain. Thick, heavy drops of it, too. It had been her constant companion for the last day and a half. Was Scotland always this miserable, or was she simply lucky? That was something she would have to ask Lavinia if anyone sent a carriage for her. Her father had wanted there to be no chance of Lady Antrucha finding out where Lavinia and Ethan's little cottage was situated, so he had sent her by public transportation to a nearby village and arranged for Ethan to pick her up.

The dreary weather had put her in a foul mood, and she glowered at the rain from beneath her hood. One would think someone would have found time to repair the roof of the transport shelter, but that would have been expecting too much, wouldn't it? She shivered, and her frown deepened. This day couldn't get any worse, could it?

"Lady Cassandra, will you not sit with me here? It's not near as wet, and it'll be quite cosy for the two of us." Eliza had remained her cheerful self for the entirety of the trip despite the fact that she was equally as miserable as her mistress. The light tone of voice in which the words were spoken grated on Cassandra's already frayed nerves, and she folded her arms across her chest, well aware of the fact that she was acting like a spoiled child.

"I can't see as far from there." She said as an excuse, stamping her feet in an attempt to bring feeling back into them.

"Master Ethan will come, miss. He wouldn't forget your arrival." Eliza soothed. Cassandra glared at the rolling moors stretching as far as the eye could see. The faint, dusty purple of heather was clearly visible through the steadily falling water. It had become more of a drizzle now. Cold and miserable, just like her.

Standing there, she tried not to let her mind wander beyond the present. She didn't want to think about the way she had slipped out of London as though she were admitting that she had committed some crime. It wasn't at all like her, and that had played a large part of her sour mood.

Benjamin Morgan had visited the day before her departure, and she feared she had crushed what spirit he had. Surely, he must understand that she didn't love him in that way. His offer of marriage had been fluent and beautiful. He had sworn to protect her with everything he had against anything that threatened her, but there had been something missing in the proposal, and instead of thrilling with excitement, she had wanted nothing more than to hide away and never look upon his face again.

"So I guess this is goodbye?" He'd said slowly after she'd turned away from him.

"Oh, Benjamin, I hope not." She'd looked at him, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't want this to change the way things were between us."

"But you'll never love me that way." His large, hound-like eyes had held something like understanding. "I knew it. I just didn't want to be right about it, and I couldn't let you leave without trying."

She'd hugged him and kissed his cheek, making him swear not to tell anyone that she was going. Her father had wanted it to be a secret, but she couldn't stop herself from telling him. He needed to know that she wouldn't be there to visit. It was only fair after the way he had stood by her with unflinching faith even after he knew what slim chance he had of winning her affection.

A sharp blast of wind buffeted against her, and she closed her eyes against the memories. What kind of person was she? She had tried so hard to change, but through all of it, she still seemed to hurt the people closest to her. Her father's strained features played in her mind. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her palms against her eyes until patches of bright light erased the image of her father. She was tired. Exhausted. Nothing would have been more welcome to her than a warm bed and the loosening of her corset.

"Miss!" Eliza's voice was suddenly alive with an unquenchable joy instead of determined tolerance, and Cassandra turned to look at the other woman, finding that she had vacated the bench and now stood a little behind Cassandra, her eyes on the road. "Look!" Cassandra followed the direction Eliza pointed, and through the bleary film that blurred her vision, she could make out a cart of sorts approaching. "It must be Master Ethan." Eliza smiled.

Cassandra continued to stare at the approaching vehicle. The figure holding the reigns didn't look like her brother-in-law; it was, in fact, slouched low in the seat as though it hadn't a care in the world. She frowned, squinting to try to get a better view.

"Eliza, I don't think that's—" She began, wetting her lips. "It doesn't look like Ethan."

"Lady?" Eliza had stooped to organize their luggage but paused in her efforts at the sound of Cassandra's voice. "Who else would it be? Lord Antrucha only sent a message to Master Ethan."

"I know, but—" Cassandra sighed, clutching at the seam of her cloak with half frozen fingers. "It doesn't feel right." She whispered.

"Perhaps Master Ethan sent someone to collect us?" Eliza said as the cart drew nearer, and the driver became distinguishable.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and worried at her lower lip with her teeth. The driver sat with carefree ease, holding the reigns nonchalantly in his hands. His shoulders were broader than Ethan's, but more than that, she couldn't tell. He wore loose clothing that masked his figure—whether intentionally or unintentionally, she couldn't tell. The incident with Robert Smithers had put suspicion for the seemingly ordinary into her, and she couldn't help but wonder if her father had been altogether sane in allowing only two young women to make this trip without a male escort.

Her fingers curled into a fest unconsciously as the cart slowed and then stopped in front of her. Drawing a deep breath, she lifted her eyes from the mud-slick road, gritting her teeth as she faced the stranger. Setting the reigns aside, he slid to the ground with lithe grace, barely making a sound as he landed.

"Lady Cassandra Antrucha I assume?" His voice was thickly accented, and there was something in it that set her teeth on edge. He was the sort of man who had every confidence in himself, a man to which conceit came naturally. Normally, she might have shrugged it off and ignored him, but she was cold and tire, and her patience had long since worn thin.

"Who wants to know?" She raised a challenging brow.

"I'll take that as a yes." He smirked. His face was streaked with mud, but beneath the grime, she could make out his structured cheekbones, and had she not been out of sorts, she might have noticed that he was quite handsome under his arrogance. "I've been sent to fetch you back to the village."

"And how are we to know that you speak the truth?" Her voice was threaded with ice, and she almost wished he would take offense at the way she spoke.

Instead, he chuckled. "Well, I suppose you'll have to take my word for it, lassie. Ethan Brodi had some things to see to, and he sent me to bring you, so unless you'd rather stay here for the foreseeable future, I suggest you decide to trust my word." It nettled him that she had doubted him, she noticed, and she smiled imperiously at him.

"Well, then, you may take the baggage." She motioned toward the trunks beside Eliza.

With a mock bow, he stepped around her and lifted the luggage with ease. He took two trips, lifting two of the trunks at a time onto his powerful shoulders and then walking easily as though the weight was no trouble. If this man wished them ill, Cassandra realized, there was little they could do to stop him, and the thought nettled her. She seldom felt helpless, but now she was pressed into a corner with only one way out, and that was him.

"All right, then, milady." He grinned as he pushed the last trunk into place. "Your carriage awaits."

Gritting her teeth until it hurt, she stepped primly onto the road, straightening her back and lifting her chin with all the airs of a queen. Unfortunately, she hadn't accounted for the slickness of the rain-sodden road, and as she moved, her foot slipped in the mud, and she pitched forward. As she fell, large hand closed over one of hers, and her body connected to something hard with a thud. Gasping, she looked up into a pair of wild, grey eyes. The stranger.

"Look here, lass, if you'd wanted me to take you in my arms, you'd only to ask. I'd've been happy to comply." A grin spread across the dirty features, and his hold on her tightened. Cassandra looked aghast into the face of the strange man for a long moment before jerking free. "Don't worry, lass, I won't be tellin' your secret to anyone else." He winked brazenly.

"How dare you?" She breathed, unable to find anything else to say.

"Dare I, lass? I wasn't the one fallin' into your arms, now was I?" The arrogant flash of white teeth made her see red.

"I've changed my mind," she seethed between tightly gritted teeth. "I'll wait here for my brother-in-law. You're not the sort of man to be trusted, and I know of no reason why I should be called upon to do so. Ethan would never send a stranger to take me to his home. Now, unload the baggage, and you can be one your merry way." The note of command in her voice was unmistakeable, but he remained where he was as if she'd never said a word. Drawing a sharp breath, she lifted her head and was suddenly all diplomacy. "Sir, I am not in the habit of repeating myself, now—"

"Oh, I can see that right enough, lassie." He barely even blinked at the frosty words, and the ice in her eyes as she glared at him seemed to have no effect whatsoever on him. Never in her life had a common peasant dared to interrupt her, and the thought that this insufferable man dared to do so drove her almost mad with rage. "If you'd take a moment and ask yourself why I was sent when your brother-in-law is a perfectly capable driver, you'd realize—difficult as it may be—that there were more important things than you and your pride at stake." There was almost a note of contempt in his voice.

Cassandra opened her mouth to respond, but she could think of nothing to say. Ethan was likely working in a cramped, dark office and hadn't freed enough time in his schedule for her. The gall of the man before her to presume he could correct her, though, ignited her wrath, and despite the thought of Ethan slaving away while Lavinia tried to keep some dingy cottage homey, she couldn't shake her annoyance and fury.

"But then, being that you are the way you are," the man seemed to read her thoughts. "I doubt you'd care that your sister's lying abed, her limp hand gripped in her husbands' while Death stands at her other side, waiting for the moment to strike." As the implication of the words settled on her brain, all other thoughts and cares melted in oblivion. Lavinia, ill? Could she really be this close to losing her sister for the second time?



Well, that took awhile. . .I hope you enjoyed it! I'm getting pretty excited for where this story is going!

What do you think of this new character? What do you think Cassandra would have done to him if she hadn't learned about Lavinia's predicament? Speaking of which, what do you think is wrong with Lavinia?