Maclean Curse - How To Abduct A Highland Lord Part 8

He wound a tendril of her hair around his fingers and lifted it to his lips.

Fiona's breath caught in her throat. Perhaps with time, she'd feel more settled with him. But right now,

every nerve screamed for attention.

She pulled back, her hair sliding free from his fingers. "This plan has become more complicated by the minute."

"Simple plans are often like that." He recaptured a long strand of her hair and brushed the tip of it over

her lips. Her entire body still quivered from their pa.s.sion, and the light touch sent an answering flare through her.

He smiled. "But I would expect no less. With you, nothing is as simple as it should be."

Fiona wasn't sure that was a compliment. Her lips tingled; her skin danced with goose b.u.mps; her

b.r.e.a.s.t.s tightened in antic.i.p.ation. Every bit of her was aware of the man who faced her. At least they stillhad pa.s.sion; she hadn't been sure after so many years apart. It had been the mainstay of their relationship-if you could call three jumbled weeks a relationship. Yet Fiona knew from bitter experience that pa.s.sion would not solve their problems. At best, it would give them a respite from the cares of the world and a means to become closer. But that was all. Her heart ached, and she wished she could talk to Callum. He would know what to do; his innate ability to understand people was far greater than hers. But Callum would never again be able to give her advice.He'd never again be there when she needed him. "Fiona?" Jack's soft voice cut through her thoughts. She looked at him, caught on the edge of tears.

"You are thinking of Callum."

She swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. "I'm sorry. I just wish I could talk to him." She swallowed, trying to regain her composure. "I have not been able to discuss his death because my brothers have been so upset themselves."

Jack's warm hand closed about her chin. He tilted her face until her gaze met his. "You may speak of Callum any time you wish." Jack's offer soothed her heart in a way she couldn't explain. She grasped his hand between hers.

"Thank you." A shy smile touched her mouth. "I would take you up on your offer, but I don't think you

have enough shirts."

Jack looked at where she clasped his hand between hers, his expression frozen. Then, ever so carefully, he disengaged himself and stepped from the bed, saying in a rather clipped voice, "It will dry very quickly."

"I feel like a watering pot, tearing up so much."

"A lot has happened."

Hardening his heart, Jack crossed the room to find his coat.

In silence, he dressed, catching a glimpse of Fiona from the corner of his eye. She sat pensively, the

sheet pulled up to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her arms wrapped around her knees, her teeth worrying her bottom

lip.

The sight of her even white teeth set in the full, soft morsel of her bottom lip stirred him ruthlessly. He had the right to bed Fiona if he desired, the one woman he'd-

No. She was no different from any other woman he'd bedded. It was just that they'd never been able to draw a satisfying conclusion to their relationship. The other women had stayed long enough that he'd grown tired of them. But his and Fiona's relationship had abruptly ended before it had reached that natural end.That was why he still felt this odd stirring of frustrated l.u.s.t.

He found a new cravat and stood before the mirror. He was careful not to stand where he could see Fiona. "Jack, where are you going?" "To a select house party." She was silent a moment. "What if I wish to go with you?"

"This is not the sort of amus.e.m.e.nt one takes a wife."

Her eyes flashed.

Jack ignored her, smoothing his waistcoat. "I agreed to this marriage only because I was forced. I did not agree to change my life in any way, shape, or form. This"-he turned to face her-"is who I am."

"I know that," she said stiffly, her chin lifted. "I merely thought you might wait at least one day before you resumed your raucous pursuits."

He shrugged, turning his shoulder to her. "Why should I wait? There are cards to play, bourbon to drink, women to-"

Lightning flashed outside. "There will be no other women."

He lifted his brows, his jaw tight. "I will not be threatened."

She flushed. "I didn't mean to-"

"We shall discuss this another time. Fortunately for you, after our"-he almost said "romp" but caught himself-"exertions, I will not be in the mood for another woman. At least not tonight."

In the distance thunder rumbled, and she gave a decided flounce as she wrapped the sheets more tightly about her.

Good. She was angry. That would keep them both from stupidly thinking this union was something more than it was. Still, he could not help but feel as if he'd just kicked a kitten. Repressing the oddest desire to apologize, he turned back to the miror.

"We don't know yet if this gamble will succeed. We might not be able to produce this heir. Or perhaps our families will simply ignore our n.o.ble sacrifices and hurl into one another anyway."

"They will not. I know they won't."

"We'll see," he said, placing a ruby pin in his cravat. His clothes didn't appear too wrinkled, which was a wonder, considering he hadn't used the services of his valet.

Time to go. There was no more reason to stay, and yet...he found himself facing Fiona. Her gaze met his, her expression a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

She wanted him to stay. He knew it without her saying a word. He supposed he didn't blame her; she was alone, in a house she didn't know, and still sad about the death of her brother.

Jack steeled himself. None of that mattered. If he stayed, she would begin to expect such things, and he was not about to let her think he was something he was not.

"When will you return?" she asked.

He paused by the fireplace to stir the embers back into flames. "Tomorrow." He replaced the poker in the stand by the fire. "Sleep well." He walked toward the door.

"Jack?"

He paused, his hand on the k.n.o.b. "Yes?"

"You really do have no heart."

His jaw tightened, but he offered no defense.

"You always seem to hate that name, Black Jack," she said bitterly. "Yet here you are, striving to prove

it true."

"I am what I am. I am exactly what I was before you married me, and I'll still be that after."

Her eyes flashed. "I have expectations, too. I do not wish to be left in this house alone all the time. I

would like to see London while I am here."

"Of course, sweetheart. I am sure the coachman knows the way to Anstley's Amphitheatre."

Ignoring the angry set of her mouth, he bowed. "Meanwhile, I bid you good night." He slipped from the

room and shut the door, quickly making his way to the foyer. "My lord." Devonsgate stood at the bottom of the stairs. Jack eyed the coat that was carefully hung over the butler's arm. "You knew I would be going out." "You always do, my lord." "Yes. I always do, don't I?" "Yes, my lord. Once you have, ah-" The butler's gaze strayed up the stairs, then back, a faint touch of color in his high cheekbones. "Once you have awakened from your nap, you inevitably go to one of your clubs, leaving your companion sleeping."

"I didn't realize I was so predictable."

"We are all creatures of habit, my lord." The butler helped Jack into his coat.

"And my habit is to visit gaming h.e.l.ls and buy gifts for unsuitable women," Jack said. "What a wonderful set of habits, to be sure."

The rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and a sharp wind whistled, so stiff that it rattled the

heavy door.

Jack sent a harsh glance up the staircase before b.u.t.toning his coat to his neck. "I will need a hat, Devonsgate. I believe a storm is brewing."

"That's impossible, my lord. I was outside earlier, and it was clear-"

A flash of lightning lit the foyer before disappearing into a loud crack of thunder.

"Heavens! That sounds ominous."

Itwas ominous. Devonsgate just didn't know how much.

Jack took a deep breath, the familiar scent of lilac tickling his nose. d.a.m.n Fiona. He placed his hat firmly

on his head. He would go out and have a good time, no matter what. What was a little rain, anyway?

"What ill luck, that it should rain right now," Devonsgate said, eyeing the front windows with misgiving.

"That is the way things seem to be going for me lately. Ill.Very Ill."

"I have heard many times that you live a charmed life, my lord. There are many who envy you."

And why not? He had wealth, properties, and unlimited opportunities to do whatever he wished. He was

indeed fortunate. So why did he feel as if he stood on the brink of a great cliff, a strong wind pushing him forward, toward the edge?

Jack's gaze wandered past the butler, back up the stairs to the shadow of his bedroom door. For a long time, he stood there, staring. Then, with a muttered imprecation, he turned on his heel and left for the waiting carriage.

Chapter Seven.

The White Witch was used to seeing fair men, but none so fair as the MacLean. Och, they are bonny lads and la.s.sies, those MacLeans. OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT Preston House was situated on the edge of May-fair. Built of white brick and decorated with stylish bra.s.s sconces and ornate trim work, it was as understated and quietly elegant as the dinner parties and soirees Lord and Lady Preston hosted. The location was a favorite of the bon ton and it was not unusual for Preston events to end with a leisurely breakfast for some of the more hardy guests. Tonight, the bright lights of the house were barely visible from Jack's carriage, dimmed by the rain that beat mercilessly upon the roof. The coachman pulled up to the front door, and Jack jumped out, not waiting for the footman to appear.

The rain slashed at him as he raced up the steps, head down against the onslaught. He reached the portico, protected from the rain by a large overhang. d.a.m.n Fiona for this deluge. He knew it was her; the faint scent of lilacs fanned his ire. How dare she attempt to dissuade him from seeking his amus.e.m.e.nts? It simply made him more determined to enjoy his freedom, and the sooner she realized that, the better for everyone.

Still grumbling to himself, Jack took off his coat and shook it.

A footman opened the door immediately. "Ah, Lord Kincaid! Welcome to-" The man caught sight of the rain and blinked, plainly shocked.