My Heart's in the Highlands

by Angeline Fortin

  Life had certainly been easier before Hero’s arrival.

  Less exciting, but much simpler.

  Of course, Daphne’s arrival wasn’t a herald of tranquil days ahead, either. When Robert’s solicitor, Nash, had finally finished walking Ian through the legalities of assuming the title and accompanied him to the castle for the first time, Daphne’s response to his coming had traversed a wide spectrum of emotion, including disbelief, denial, and fury.

  Dùn Cuilean was to have been hers, she insisted. It was hers no matter what the law said. It had taken Nash and then Jennings days to finally make her see the truth of the matter. Daphne had stormed away from the property in a rage.

  Given the enormity of his new position and situation and all that it entailed, Ian had been glad to see her go. He had enough responsibility to bear without feeling as if he had robbed another of their birthright. Nash had assured him that his direct male lineage trumped Daphne Kennedy’s maternal link to the title.

  Since then, Ian had put the entire matter from his mind to focus on his new obligations. Given that Daphne had thundered away vowing never to speak to him again, Ian had to wonder what brought her to Cuilean now. “What did you want to speak with me about, Miss Kennedy?”

  “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” she asked with a fiery look in her eyes that made Ian wary.

  Nodding tightly, Ian offered her his arm and led her from the room, pausing at the duke’s chair. “You’ll be all right then, Harry?”

  “More than all right, sir!” the duke assured him. “I’m about to take this young man for all he’s worth!”

  A calculating expression replaced Kennedy’s normally cheerful one. “We shall see, your grace.”

  “Best of luck to you both,” Ian said and continued from the room.

  His study was just down the hall from the dining room at the rear of the castle with a small window overlooking the firth. The room was cast in deep shadows when they arrived, lit by only one gas sconce. It looked entirely too intimate for Ian’s taste. When he and Hero had spent hours poring over the estate ledgers, he hadn’t minded the cozy ambiance at all. But now …

  Leaving Daphne at the door, Ian rounded the room, turning all the wall sconces up and returning the room to a more businesslike atmosphere. “So, what can I do for you, Daphne?”

  “Can we sit, my lord?” she asked, moving to the one small settee in the room, where she sat and patted the space next to her invitingly.

  Ian opted for leaning against the front of his desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.

  “You’re still angry with me,” Daphne said with a pretty pout. “Please, my lord, you must forgive my actions. They were rash, emotional! You do have to admit, you gave me quite a surprise on your arrival.”

  Not wanting to rehash what had been little more than an awful mess best forgotten, Ian conceded the point with a nod of his head.

  Daphne smiled at that. “I’m so glad we can forgive and forget. I do so love Cuilean, you know. I just always imagined that I would live here someday.”

  “I am sorry that …”

  “But wait, my lord!” Daphne interrupted, rising to her feet and moving forward until she was just an arm’s length away. “Before you say anything else, I just wanted to tell you why I came. I’ve had the most wonderful idea!”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, I think that there is a way we can both have what we want from life.”

  Ian raised an inquiring brow at that, wondering how this woman might possibly believe that she knew what he wanted from life. For a long while, he had wanted nothing more than to serve in the military. He had wanted to show his commitment to Scotland and his Queen by doing so. Nash had changed all of that when he’d taken Ian from Greece and supplanted him at Dùn Cuilean. No longer was life about what he wanted to do but what he must do.

  Want and desire had been removed from his grasp … until Hero Conagham had come into his life.

  “I think we should marry.”

  With a blink, Ian gave his attention to his guest once more. Surely, he hadn’t heard her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think? I would be marchioness, just as I was always meant to be, and you would have an accomplished wife to bear you the next marquis,” she finished triumphantly, waiting for his response.

  Ian looked at Daphne. She was a beautiful lass with her strong facial features, wide sensuous mouth, and flashing green eyes. Her hair was a vivid red that suggested strongly at a passionate nature. Her figure was bountiful but trim. She would probably be a pleasing handful in bed. He could see that Daphne was well aware of her physical appeal and of her cachet as a potential bride. Logically, there was no reason for her to doubt that her proposal would be prized and accepted.

  However, what Ian had told Hero wasn’t mere lip service. He had known many extremely lovely women in his life. As an officer in the Queen’s army, he had been the object of adoration for women of every walk of life, from ladies to milkmaids.

  Beauty was an attractive quality but it wasn’t everything. It wasn’t enough to bring Ian to his knees in subjugation before even the bonniest lass. For that reason, he’d once resolved never to marry. Never to be bound in a union that would wilt as that beauty faded.

  Lately, however, Ian had come to realize that there were some things that would not fade. That beyond beauty and desire, there might be something more profound.

  “With my apologies, Miss Kennedy, I must decline,” he finally answered politely.

  But, as he had suspected, Daphne was a lass who was very certain of herself and her appeal. She had never considered that her proposal would be rejected. A frown appeared and smoothed within seconds before it was replaced by a coy smile. “But, my lord,” she protested, taking another step forward until she was toe to toe with him. She ran her warm palms up his shirtfront, eyeing him seductively from beneath her thick lashes as she pressed her breasts against his chest. “A union between us would be most … advantageous.”

  Ian caught her wrists and held her away from him, wishing that Harry might appear for one of his usually inopportune interruptions, but wasn’t to be so blessed. “I’m sorry, Miss Kennedy, but I have given you my answer.”

  All pretense fled Daphne’s face. “Why not?”

  “I don’t consider marriage a business arrangement,” Ian prevaricated as he released her. The reason was true enough but it wasn’t the whole of it. However, there was little more he was willing to admit to Daphne Kennedy.

  “This doesn’t have to be a business arrangement,” Daphne argued, running her hands along his ribcage. “We could do well together, I think. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”

  “Miss Kennedy, I truly do not anticipate changing my mind on this.” Ian straightened away from the desk and tugged on his waistcoat.

  Daphne sighed dramatically. “Men! You don’t ever truly know what you want until you have a chance to think about it. No, don’t argue! I know how you are. I just know when we’ve had a chance to get to know one another better, you’ll change your mind.”

  With an even more melodramatic mental sigh, Ian realized that arguing with someone as determined as Daphne wouldn’t change a thing. She would think as she wanted, despite his words. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize the futility of her ambitions with him. Ian’s only hope was that she would do so quickly, so that he might once again have Dùn Cuilean and Hero all to himself.

  He had a seduction to finish. Or a courting. Courting. Ian almost chuckled now as the word crossed his mind once again. He’d given the idea a lot of thought since he had voiced his intentions so rashly to Hero in the music room. He had wondered at himself, wondered how he had traversed the battleground between an abstract concept of possessing Hero, taking her for his own, and taking her as a necessary wife, to unconsciously acting on it. It hadn’t taken a fraction of the days since then for Ian to admit to what he wanted and to plot his co
urse. What had lingered vaguely in the back of his mind had become more intentional.

  Aye, Ian would marry, but not Daphne and not purely for the sake of the marquisate. A much more appealing option awaited him. An option that would grant him a lifetime of divine exploration, if a lifetime would even be enough.

  “Let me escort you to your room, Miss Kennedy.”

  Daphne frowned at the abrupt end to their conversation but just shook her head. “Actually, I think I might join my brother and his grace in the billiards room.”

  “As you wish,” Ian bowed shortly. “Good night.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What the bloody hell?”

  The silence of Ian’s bedchamber as he lounged once again before the fireplace, staring moodily at Hero’s portrait, was broken by the muffled sounds of drums, cymbals, and organs. It took a minute for Ian to realize the distorted sound was music. But from where? Had a full orchestra descended upon Cuilean at midnight?

  Throwing open his door, Ian froze at the sight of Hero emerging from the State Room across the landing. She was tying the sash on a peacock blue silk dressing gown as she looked up and froze at the sight of him there as well.

  Given the thoughts that had been dancing through his mind for nearly a week, the sight of Hero in her bedclothes with her dressing gown tight around her hips, her golden hair loose about her shoulders, brought them all flooding back along with the arousal. He wanted nothing more than to draw her into his rooms and watch that slippery silk slide from her shoulders and puddle on the floor.

  Regrettably it was a difficult fantasy to entertain or sustain with the loud chamber music floating up from below.

  “It’s the orchestrion,” she said in response to his unasked question, adding with a shrug when he continued to stare, “Papa.”

  With an understanding chuckle, Ian followed her around the landing to the head of the stairs. “What makes you think it’s your father?” he asked, taking her hand to steady her as they descended.

  “Who else could it be?” Hero said with a grin as they reached the ground floor, circling around the oval hall to the rear of the castle and into the music room next to the billiards room. “He must have noticed it last night and gotten curious.”

  The music had gotten louder as they went until Ian was hard pressed not to cover his ears upon reaching the room. The half dozen servants gathered in the hall in various states of undress outside the music room showed no such restraint. Boyle yelled to Hero with his fingers still stuck in his ears, “We thought it best to wait for you, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Boyle,” Hero said. She patted the butler’s arm and with a deep breath, plunged into the cacophony, as Ian followed. “I told you it was not well suited to such a small venue,” she added unnecessarily.

  Ian grinned. “No, it is not.”

  Their smiles faded as they found the duke standing in the center of the room wearing nothing but a nightshirt. Even his feet were bare. His fingers were also in his ears and he was yelling at the top of his lungs over and over again, “So loud! So loud!”

  Hero rushed over to the hulking monstrosity of horns and cymbals that stood against one wall and bent, reaching under the thing for a moment before coming up with a small plug hooked about one finger. Air whooshed from beneath the beast and the cacophony of instruments whimpered to a halt with one last pitiful sigh.

  This sound was echoed in everyone’s sigh of relief, but the duke was still yelling, “Loud! Loud! Loud!” Ears plugged and eyes closed tightly, Beaumont looked on the verge of apoplexy. Ian reached his side just as Hero did, but she was the one to grab his hands first.

  “Papa!” she shouted right into his face with no response. She shook him and yelled desperately, “Papa! Look at me!”

  The duke stopped and opened his eyes, suddenly looking very calm when just seconds before he had looked ready to burst. “I thought I told you to call me Harry.”

  Hero sagged with a strangled sound, covering her face with her hands, but this time Ian knew it wasn’t laughter or amusement that choked her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he led her to a chair and sank down to his haunches before her. “Are you all right?”

  She peeked up at him and Ian saw the tears glistening in her eyes and knew he’d been correct. It hadn’t been a chuckle but a sob that Hero had bitten back. The duke’s panic had certainly frightened her. Turning, Ian waved away the crowd at the door. “Back to bed, all of you! The show is over.”

  Respectfully, the staff dispersed, but for the duke’s night nurse, who hovered nervously in the doorway. “My apologies, my lady, my lord. I don’t know how he …”

  Ian stood and approached the quivering man, making no attempt to disguise his anger. “Cooper, what are your duties exactly?” he demanded.

  “To watch over the duke from seven in the evening to seven in the morning, my lord,” Cooper answered, swallowing with an audible gulp. “My lord …”

  “In my judgment, both you and Simms have been lax in your duties, playing upon Lady Ayr’s good nature and love of her father to escape the responsibilities you have been assigned. Lady Ayr should not have to spend a single sleepless night wondering if her father is getting the best of care,” Ian barked, though he wanted to strangle the man for causing Hero a moment’s upset. “If you feel that you cannot perform the duties you have been assigned in a more competent manner, I assure you that I shall see to it that you are replaced, even if Lady Ayr is too softhearted to do it herself. Am I understood?”

  “Ye—yes, my lord,” the nurse stuttered before turning to Hero. “My lady, please accept my apologies. I assure you that it will not happen again.”

  “It’s all right, Cooper.” Ian raised an imperious brow, but Hero shook her head wearily. “Come, Papa, let me see you back to bed.”

  “No,” Ian interjected sharply, before adding more softly, “I’d like a word with you if I might, Lady Ayr. I’m sure Cooper will see your father to bed and sit by his side for the remainder of the night.”

  “I will, my lady,” Cooper agreed with an emphatic nod.

  “Very well,” Hero said. She rose and went to her father, who was turning the hand crank on the orchestrion, again trying to fill the bellows, which just wept and moaned, unable to hold air without the plug. Hero urged him to his feet and gave him a hug, resting her head against his chest. “You gave me quite a fright, Papa.”

  “Did I?” he asked innocently, before frowning. “What are you doing out of bed? It must be past midnight. Come now, daughter, back to bed.”

  “You go up with Cooper, Papa,” she said sadly, and Ian could feel her heartbreak as if it were his own. Hero had told him that there were bad moments as well. Given the duke’s general good cheer over the past couple of days, Ian hadn’t anticipated what he’d just been witness to. “I will follow you up after I have a word with Lord Ayr.”

  Beaumont looked around curiously before his eyes lit on Ian, and Ian thought the duke looked calm and unruffled, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps he had already forgotten the incident, leaving only Hero with the memory of his panic. How many times in the past had she replayed such a scenario? Beaumont smiled at him, waving a finger. “Oh, Ian. Yes, yes, of course. I knew Robert had died.”

  “Goodnight, Papa,” Hero said and started to pull away from the duke, but he caught her tightly against him in a ferocious hug, squeezing a squeal from her. With a chuckle, he let her go, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

  “Goodnight, daughter,” he said. “Goodnight, Ian.”

  “Goodnight, Harry,” Ian answered, but his eyes and thoughts were already on Hero.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” Beaumont said as Cooper led him away. “And please be quiet when you come up. You don’t want to wake your mother.”

  With a sigh, Hero crossed the room and knelt to replace the plug in the orchestrion’s bellows before thinking better of it and instead putting it on the mantel.

  “Are you sure you’re quite all right?”

&
nbsp; Ian’s brogue was husky with concern. His caring for both her and her father once again warmed her heart. “Yes, I had thought it nothing but a lark of his when I first heard the music playing. Just one of the silly things he does. To see him shouting like that, I’m afraid it took me aback for a moment. Thank you for dealing with Cooper, my lord.”

  “Hero …” Ian took a step forward then stopped, running a hand through his short hair, making it stand on end. “Bloody hell, Hero. How often does that happen?”

  Hero clasped her hands in front of her, twisting them unconsciously as she remembered other times like these. “Not often,” she said, but couldn’t stop herself from confessing, “though these are the times when I wonder if I’ve done the right thing.”

  “The right thing?”

  “Arthur, my brother, wanted Papa to be institutionalized.”

  It had been a long, painful argument between them, between all the duke’s children. Half of them wanted one thing, while the other half wanted another. In the end, Hero had insisted that her mother would never have agreed to it. Arthur had been firm then that their father would be her responsibility, so she had brought Beaumont to Scotland. To Dùn Cuilean, where he could live a happy life.

  Circling the room, Hero explained all this to Ian, who listened intently as was his wont. He had a way about him of expressing his caring, his sympathy, without saying a word. It was just one more quality that Hero admired in him. One more quality that would make it so incredibly easy to fall for him. There was that thought again, that feeling that she might come to love Ian swiftly and deeply, and yet she hadn’t even been with him for an entire week yet. How could she be thinking such things already?

  It was one thing to desire so readily. But to love?

  Knowing nothing of the turmoil in her mind and heart, Ian continued, “I think you do beautifully with him, Hero. In truth, I worry not about him but about how all this affects you. They must be trying, moments like these.”