My Heart's in the Highlands (21 page)

“Ah, Daughter, there you are!” her father boomed
, and Hero breathed a sigh of relief for the diversion.  She had no desire to partake in yet another pointless verbal battle with Daphne.

Beaumont was coming up the stairs by twos until he met her at the top. Hero was thankful to see that Simms had managed to convince him to dress completely that morning
, and he looked quite noble in his red and black riding jacket.  “Shall we ride this morning, Daughter?  I swear I’ve not been out in weeks.”

“We rode just yesterday, Papa,” Hero reminded softly, taking his arm with a gentle squeeze.

“We did?”

“We did
, but I shall be happy to join you again,” she assured him.

“You should be careful you don’t take another fall,” Daphne said spitefully, drawing the duke’s attention to her.
  “We wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt now, would we?”

His eyes narrowed.
  “You’re a pretty girl but you should smile more.  You look very mean when you don’t smile.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed in returned.
  “So you have already said, your grace.”

“Well?” he bellowed.
  “Why haven’t you done it yet?”

Hero was hard pressed to repress a smile as she accompanied her father back down the stairs.
  What would she do without him?  Somehow, he always managed to turn the darkest moments to light.

Chapter Twenty-Six

For the second night in a row, Ian was awakened in the dead of night.  Not to a hand over his mouth this time but to the subtle twist of the doorknob.  Lying perfectly still, he watched the small crack widen and a body slip inside before the door closed softly.  In the near darkness, the shadow approached, nearing the bed, and Ian prepared to pounce.  Prepared to outwit and possible identify his would-be murderer—a murderer who had thrice attempted to take his life that day.

An arm extended from the shadow, reachi
ng out toward him, and Ian tensed, prepared to strike.

“Ian?” a soft voice whispered
, and Ian deflated in surprise.

“Hero?” he said, sitting up
in the bed.  “What are you doing in here?”  He froze then, wondering if his assumption that Hero would be safe at Cuilean even with protection had been erroneous after all.  “Are you all right?”

Did someone try to hurt you?
Are you injured?
  Ian bit back the more provocative queries that would only lead to more of the same from Hero, though his eyes examined her futilely in the shadowy night for visible injury.   If he asked, she would want to know what he meant by his questions, and if she latched on to even a hint of the truth, he knew Hero would never let the subject go until she had the whole of it.  In truth, Ian felt lucky that she hadn’t caught on to his worries already.  He’d worked hard to keep them from her, but the incident with the saddles yesterday had nearly sent him over the top.

“I’m fine,” Hero said
, shifting hesitantly from side to side before making a more decisive move to sit on the edge of the bed.  “I heard you finally come home and merely wanted to determine for myself that you were as well.  Where have you been?”

With a sigh of relief, Ian took her hand and kissed it before brushing his
lips back and forth across it.  “My apologies for worrying you, love.  In truth, I had no intentions of being gone so long.”

“I didn’t know you intended to be g
one at all,” she chided lightly, clearly inviting an explanation, but Ian knew he could not speak to the true reason he had been gone.  If she worried over his unexplained absence, how would she fret if she knew a killer had targeted him?

“I had thought to deliver you a surprise well before dinner,” he said
, catching a lock of her loose, wavy hair and twisting it around his finger.  A diversionary tactic would be best to keep her from prodding tenaciously for the truth, and thankfully he did have that one to present.

“S
urprise?”  She asked again, “Where were you?  Yesterday?  Today?”

Her impatience was evident and even charming
, but he had no intentions of explaining it all.  Ian bit back a grin, tucking an arm behind his head as he lay back against the pillows.  “Don’t you like surprises?”

“Only when I am
part of the delivery.”

Reaching out, Ian ran a palm up her thigh
, feeling her muscles clench.  “Did you come in here to deliver me a surprise then?”

“What?
  No, of course, not!” she denied.  She didn’t remove her knee from the bed however, and Ian’s pulse quickened.

“No?”
  He trailed his hand back down to her knee, parting the opening of her dressing gown.  It wasn’t the blue silk gown she had worn the other night.  It was too dark to determine the color, but this one was brocade, with a high collar and belled sleeves.  The deep V in the front showed she wasn’t wearing the high-necked nightgown he’d seen hint of before, either.  The smooth skin below her collarbones shone in the moonlight that only just lightened the room.  It was enough light for him to see her eyes widen and lock with his.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she said sternly, though he could feel her leg quiver slightly
as he hand slid upward.  “You cannot keep secrets from me if we’re to wed, Ian.”

No, but he would do just
about anything to protect her, and he had gone to do just that.  In the morning a solution would be presented and a diversion introduced.  The problem would disappear, and he could begin leading the life he wanted with Hero at his side.  For the rest of the night, he had only to stay alive, and that shouldn’t be difficult with only a few hours remaining until dawn.  Though his continued existence would have been better guaranteed with a locked door, Ian had been curious to see if the villain in his house would dare to try such a direct approach once again.

After the events of
the past two days, Ian found he was ready for a confrontation.  But if a fight wasn’t going to present itself at his door, Ian was keen on taking what did. 

“
And you shouldn’t have come into my bedchamber before we wed.  Certainly not if you expected conversation,” he whispered huskily as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh once more.  Her muscles tensed and her breathing was suddenly ragged.  Up his hand went until he could feel the heat at her core, and he brushed against her lightly through the barrier of her nightgown.  Chuckling as she pressed her thighs together, Ian removed his hand and instead took hers, guiding it to his bare chest.  Her fingers curled as if she meant to draw away but then they spread hesitantly over his skin and moved in the slightest caress.  It was Ian’s turn to tense as arousal seized and thickened. 

Her gaze moved to his chest then back to his eyes
, and Ian swore he could see a flicker of excitement there.  “You don’t have on a nightshirt,” she said unnecessarily.  Her fingers drifted across his chest, brushing over one flat nipple before they trailed down the ridges of his stomach to the point where the sheet covered him.  Her fingers lingered there, following the edge of the linen from side to side, and Ian’s body clenched at the light contact, his arousal stirring beneath the sheet. 

“I don’t own one,” he confessed
, and her eyes, which had once again been drifting downward, shot back to his.  The logical rebuttal was there in her eyes, and Hero was visibly fighting against voicing it, but Ian couldn’t battle his amusement.  He chuckled throatily, thinking this confrontation was far more interesting than the one he had been anticipating that night.  “Why don’t you come in here with me and find out what I am … or am not … wearing for yourself?”

Predictably, she stiffened in face of his amusement.
  “Do you think I won’t?”

What Ian thought was that Hero would go with whatever part of her conscience won the war that had been raging in her since the moment he had touched h
er thigh.  The inexperienced part of her would argue for a retreat while the portion of her that had emerged so briefly in the music room and in the dungeons when her passions were roused would want to continue from where they had been interrupted.  But instead of voicing any of that, Ian offered only the earnest truth.  “My God, Hero, I hope ye will.”

Her hand trembled against his abdomen, her fingers curling against him before she drew away and stood.
  Ian inwardly cursed.  He should have simply kissed her into submission, knowing that she wanted him as well, knowing that he could easily kindle her passions into a fire she could not deny.  He should have, but Ian wanted her to come to him freely.  Wanted the decision to be hers without influence. 

His body raged, begging him to pull her back down to him.
  Ian lifted himself onto one elbow.  “Hero …”

He froze as s
he unbuttoned one of the quartet of buttons that held her dressing gown closed at her waist.  When her hands moved to the next one, Ian held his breath.  Leisurely, she worked the third and fourth before parting the gown and lifting it off her shoulders.  It fell slowly, dragging at the low gathered neckline of her nightgown as it went until it was pulled along with the robe, baring one shoulder to his hungry eyes as his breath was drawn from him just as gradually.

Her white nightg
own was gossamer thin, falling in folds from the gathered top that could not hide the silhouette of her body beneath.  He could see the shadow beneath her breasts and lower between her thighs.   It was a gown made for seduction.  His hand clenched the sheet tightly to restrain himself from reaching for her.  “Ye came in here for more than conversation, my love.  Didn’t ye?” he asked thickly.

“
No, that’s what I went to the pagoda last night for,” she said.  “I wanted to see if you would keep your promise but you weren’t there.”

Ian tensed at the thought of Hero walking the grounds alone.
  He would have to make certain that didn’t happen again until his assailant was caught.  “My apologies, my love, I was late. You must have left before I got there.  I was so looking forward to meeting you.  Are you sorry to have missed it, Hero?”

“Where were you?
”  She tugged at the ribbon that held the gown together at the top and it slid apart, falling over the other shoulder as well.  She paused and waited expectantly.

Drinking in the smooth ivory skin of her bared shoulders and the shadowy hint of her breasts, Ian almost couldn’t recall the subject at all.
  His focus was on her and her alone.  “Business.  Hero, my love …”

Hero shifted
almost imperceptibly and the gown slipped lower, catching at the peak of her breasts.  “What kind of business?”

Ian’s breath caught
along with the gown.  “Later.  I promise.”

Her eyes lit
and with a soft whoosh, the entire garment slid to the floor, leaving Hero clad in nothing more than shadow and moonlight.

A low moan escaped him at the sight of her.
  Hero was pure perfection, more lovely even than Ian had imagined.  Her breasts were full above an impossibly tiny waist, yet her hips flared in a wide, rounded curve.  One long lock of her hair lay against her breast, curling beneath it like a lover’s hand.  Arousal become instantaneous erection, and the heat spread.

He
had to touch her.  “Come to me, my love.”

Hero took his
outstretched hand without hesitation and lifted a knee to the edge of the mattress.  Any bashfulness and uncertainty she had been feeling fled at the need in his eyes.   The heat there transferred to her, stoking her confidence, and she knew the time had come.  She had wanted it to.  Wanted it for days before Ian confessed his love.  She would have gladly had him without it, but knowing that he loved her, knowing that he wanted so much more from her than a just a body to warm his bed, had fueled her own desire to a feverish pitch.