My Heart's in the Highlands

by Angeline Fortin

“Over a hundred years easily,” Ian answered as he retrieved the duke’s wandering horse and secured it as well. Then he reached for the duke, who was now swinging from the branch. “Come now, Harry. Down from there.”

  “Brilliant, isn’t it?” Beaumont said to Hero. “I must remember to tell your mother about it when we get home.”

  “Papa, Mama died several years back, don’t you recall?” Hero said, feeling the tug of sadness that always accompanied such reminders. The feeling was at odds with the joy of the day.

  Beaumont’s expression clouded for a moment. “Died? Of course, of course. I remember.”

  Ian cut in jovially, “I see an odd little building through the trees over there, Harry. What say you? Should we see what it is?”

  “It’s the pagoda I told you about,” Hero told him as they turned in that direction.

  Ian slipped his hand down to take hers, and they walked along and studied the building on their approach. It was a wooden structure of three consecutively smaller tiers in the traditional Chinese style. The eaves on each arcing roofline curled upward at the ends of each point of the hexagonal roofs. There was a stone terrace around it that cantilevered out over the wide creek Hero had mentioned. Shaded by the surrounding trees and low-hanging willows, it was a marvelous location for a romantic midnight rendezvous.

  “Our pagoda?” Ian murmured suggestively as they crossed a low bridge that carried them to the other side of the creek, driving the momentary sadness away. They stepped onto the terrace while Beaumont disappeared into the small structure. Dark eyes warmed Hero until she felt the arousal that always lingered on the fringes of her time with him spark and flare within her.

  “Now you know how to get here,” Hero whispered, squeezing his hand as he lifted hers to his lips, pressing an ardent kiss there. He brushed her hand back and forth across them before kissing her hand once more.

  “You should not tease,” he warned in a low tone, resting his hips back against the iron railing of the terrace.

  With a surge of confidence, Hero leaned toward him and whispered as if imparting a secret, “I do not.”

  His brows rose in surprise and his eyes gleamed. He flashed that half smile that never failed to twist at her heart. “Tonight?”

  Hero’s heart thudded heavily inside her chest at the thought of meeting him here in this romantic setting alone with only the darkness surrounding them. He would hold her in his arms, perhaps press her back against the railing as he was now. They could pick up where they had left off in the music room. Hero quivered with burgeoning desire and exhaled with a shaky sigh, “Oh, yes.”

  Ian looked down into Hero’s sparkling eyes, seeing the warmth dancing there as well as anticipation that matched his own, and felt lust stab through his heart. He wanted nothing more than to strip off her snug riding habit, fling her dainty hat to the winds, and bury himself in her sweet body.

  It had been days since he had seen her in private, days since he had touched her, and he was overcome by the need to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers once again. To feel her tremble with desire. Her pulse was fluttering in her neck, and Ian gave in to his impulses. Tracing a finger down her neck, he felt her tense. Hero’s breathing quickened and her cheeks grew flushed, arousing him even more. Charming him more than ever.

  Glancing down, he watched her breasts strain against her tight bodice with each rapid breath she took and knew she wanted him as well. He brushed his knuckles over the slope of her breast, feeling her pert nipple beneath the thin, summery lawn. Hero inhaled sharply and swayed forward, and Ian couldn’t stop himself from capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

  There was no tentativeness left in her kiss. She met his lips eagerly, parting hers to welcome him deeper as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His hand uncurled as if by its own free will until he was cupping her breast in his palm, and he felt her softly moan against his lips.

  His body surged to life, and his blood boiled. Hero’s hands slipped inside his coat and under the edge of his waistcoat. Even with the linen barrier of his shirt, Ian could feel the heat of her flesh there and through the bodice of her habit. Her nipple hardened and Ian rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, earning a gasp of delight against his lips. She rocked her hips against his, and with a groan of surrender Ian dropped his free hand to cup her bottom and pull her closer, letting her feel the turgid length their passion had inspired.

  God, but he could take her right here.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Sir, you will unhand my daughter!”

  Hero leapt away like a cat on fire at Beaumont’s thunderous words, and Ian shifted as guiltily as a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar and felt an unfamiliar flush creep along his cheeks. In the heat of their lust, he’d completely forgotten about the duke.

  And as far as interruptions went, this was by far the most direct one they had received. Hero was blushing mightily herself, though she began to natter breezily as if nothing had even happened.

  Though the duke often acted similarly, today he uncharacteristically stayed on topic. He glared at Ian with his arms clasped over his chest, looking every bit a duke of the realm. In years past, he must have been an intimidating man, Ian thought. Years past? Ian shook his head. Bugger it, but Beaumont was pretty damned intimidating right now!

  “Explain yourself, sir!” The duke’s resonant voice broke the awkward silence once more, and Ian didn’t know whether to laugh or cower. What did one say to a father when he’d been caught red-handed with his hand on a daughter’s breast?

  “I demand satisfaction, sir!” Beaumont continued, pulling off his riding glove.

  Hero rushed forward to put herself between them and put a hand on her father’s chest. “Now, Papa, be sensible! You don’t want to hurt Ian, do you?”

  “He’s a rogue! A scoundrel! A … A …”

  Hero and Ian both held their breath, hoping that with his loss of words, Beaumont would also lose interest in the subject, as was his wont. But they weren’t so lucky. “A scalawag!”

  “Your grace,” Ian began, but Hero spoke again.

  “Papa, really! Stop this nonsense right this instant!”

  “Nonsense?” the duke thundered at her. “You think it’s nonsense to protect my daughter’s person and honor from a cad such as this?”

  “Yes!” Hero cried, but this time it was Ian’s turn to interrupt with a resounding “No.”

  Hero turned to him with wide, disbelieving eyes that quickly turned to pleading. “Ian, you are not helping! He’s serious, you know.”

  “I know,” Ian assured her with a tender smile before turning to Beaumont. “Your grace, if you would allow me to put this to rights? Instead of a duel for Hero’s honor, perhaps I might instead ask you for the honor of allowing your daughter to become my wife.”

  “Ian!” she squeaked in surprise.

  Beaumont did not seem to share her astonishment at all. Instead he nodded gravely as if that had been his very thought all along. “Just so, Lord Ayr. I knew a man of your integrity would do as duty demands.”

  “It is no duty, your grace,” Ian answered, waiting to see if there was anything further that Beaumont cared to add.

  The duke only waved his hand impatiently. “Well, get on with it then, lad!”

  It was a difficult thing to begin an impromptu proposal not only with an audience but with the subject of that proposal staring at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads. Hero was shaking her head at him with a dazed expression that denied the turn of events. “You don’t have to do this, Ian. Just because …” She wafted a hand back and forth between them helplessly.

  “No one is forcing me, my love,” he assured her. Beaumont cleared his throat impatiently, and Ian threw him an exasperated glance. Turning back to Hero, Ian searched her wide eyes for some encouragement, but her usually vivid eyes were almost glassy with shock.

  This was certainly not how he had envisioned this moment.

 
; Taking her hand between his, Ian smiled down at her. “I know these last couple of days have not allowed us an opportunity to speak of what I said in the caves. It might have been rash and unexpected but I do not regret saying it. I love you, sweet Hero. I know that our time has been short. I know some might think me insane, but I do, and you have said you love me as well …”

  “When did this all happen?” Beaumont interjected, but Ian just cast him another, more impatient, look and the duke subsided, taking a step back and waving imperiously for Ian to continue.

  “I didn’t intend to do this under these circumstances … or with an audience.” A grin lifted the corner of Ian’s lips. “But I did intend to do it. It is the right thing to do.”

  Hero knew that he didn’t mean only that it was the right thing to save her honor but that it was also the right thing for them both overall. As if he knew that this had always been the inevitable outcome of their meeting. Still, she was still flabbergasted by his announcement. “I’m just so surprised!”

  “In my experience, doing the right thing usually has the tendency to astound some while it gratifies others,” her father intoned solemnly. “I am, of course, one of the gratified.”

  “Harry, please,” Ian said with exasperation, “I can take it from here.”

  The duke raised both hands defensively, taking another step away, but leaned in quickly once again to add, “You do have my permission to kiss her now, though … should it become necessary.”

  “Thank you, Harry,” Ian said, and shook his head as the duke walked away, smiling benignly.

  Turning back to Hero, he saw that her wide-eyed expression was still firmly in place. “What say you, my love? Are you going to keep me on pins and needles?”

  “I’m just so …”

  “Surprised. I know.” Ian grinned down at her though some doubts had begun to worm their way inside. Not doubt that she loved him, but doubt as to whether that love extrapolated in her mind as it did in his. Into a life shared. Ian had never been one lacking in confidence. He had spent a large portion of his life literally standing in the line of fire. What was it about this woman that cast him into doubt?

  Ian knew the answer even as he questioned himself. It was because more than his life was riding on her answer. It was something he had never known he could desire so much, need so much. Hero might carry him to the highest mountain with the joy of an affirmative answer, but a negative one …

  “It is too soon,” he said, turning away.

  “No! No!” Hero protested, grabbing him by the arm to turn him back. “I’m sorry, Ian! You did just take me by … I just never thought that you might … that you truly … oh!” Hero threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

  Ian hesitated, but the heat of her kiss rapidly dissolved his dismay and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting Hero until her toes were off the ground.

  “No pins,” she whispered against his lips. “No needles. I would love to be your wife. Everyone will think us mad, to be sure.”

  “They can think as they please,” Ian said, then whispered more softly in her ear. “Should a hasty marriage also find me as speedily in your bed, I can only wonder why I did not think to compromise you earlier.”

  “You were courting me, remember?” Hero teased with a smile, then her eyes widened with wonder. “Oh, you actually were courting me, weren’t you?”

  Ian rolled his eyes with a mental groan. “You are a most frustrating woman.”

  “You really did intend to ask me all along?” she asked. “You weren’t just saying that?”

  “Truly, Hero, how can such a brilliant woman be so oblivious?”

  Hero knew that Ian meant his mocking words as a jest, and while they did not sting with insult they did hurt after a fashion. Pulling away from him, she leaned against the rail overlooking the stream, not seeing the dreamlike haven created by the hanging willows and summer moss but the ballrooms of years past. “When you look at me, Ian, what do you see?” she asked softly without looking back.

  “Is this a trick question?” Ian asked, and Hero could tell by his tone alone that the crow’s feet by his eyes would be just a fraction deeper, that his eyes would be aglow with light humor, and the corner of his mouth would be lifted just a notch. There was just that touch of amusement that disguised a trace of concern.

  Glancing from the corner of her eye, she saw it there just as she had suspected, and he must have seen something in her as well. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and considered her thoughtfully. “I see a lass of astonishing beauty both on the surface and in her soul. The gold of her hair is outshone only by her golden heart. I see a woman I desire and love more than I had ever dreamed possible.”

  Hero’s heart warmed with his words. She knew that romantic expression was new to Ian. His discomfort when voicing what Robert would surely have referred to as nothing but twaddle painted a clear picture of how often Ian had spoken such words in the past. The words emerged in awkward tones but they were more profound because of that lack of familiarity.

  For all that Ian might consider waxing poetic emasculating, or believe that saying what was in his heart made him less of a man, he still said the words, just as he had that night in the music room, to reassure her as she needed to be.

  Little did the male species know that what seemed to cost them so much enriched a woman even more. That words of love and admiration were a gift beyond measure that made many a woman think even more highly of a man.

  “Hero?” Ian prompted, recalling her to the topic at hand.

  Staring down into the water below her once more, Hero watched her reflection waver on the surface and saw once again the past. “Do you know what every other man I ever met saw?” she asked rhetorically. “They saw my father. His wealth, his title, his connections. They saw a chance to align themselves with him. They saw me not as a person but as an asset. A thing. My beauty,” she sneered the word, “was merely a bonus. I was never courted by someone who wanted me. Just me. Robert asked for my hand after meeting me but twice. He wed me without knowing me at all. Afterward, over the years, we became friends but there was never this romance, this desire. You might think me dull-witted, my lord, but how is one to recognize something when it is the first time they’ve ever encountered it? Courting? I thought this only a seduction, though I am clearly lacking in experience there as well.”

  Ian sighed impatiently and turned to lean his hips against the rail. With his arms still crossed over his chest, he frowned sternly down at her. “Hero, did I not clearly tell you that I was courting you?”

  “You did say that but …” Hero bit her lip but Ian just waited. “I suppose that I thought you meant only to court me into your bed.”

  “I believe I was also quite clear in saying that this,” he continued, waving his hand between them, “was not something that could be exhausted in a day’s time.”

  Hero frowned, recalling his words. “You did, but I thought perhaps you meant an extended affair.”

  “I told you that I loved you,” he pointed out with noticeable exasperation.

  “I thought you were only saying that because we were going to die.”

  Tilting back his head, Ian groaned with evident frustration before sliding a hand around the back of Hero’s neck and forcing her to meet his gaze. “You think too much,” he growled, his fingers curling into the hair at her nape.

  Embarrassed and feeling foolish, Hero responded with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh!” Ian pulled her to him, delivering a brief but fierce kiss that conveyed not only his aggravation but a curious amount of affection. “Come here.”

  Ian opened his arms and Hero slid into them, wrapping her arms around his waist. Resting her cheek against his chest, she sighed deeply with an odd mixture of relief and contentment. Ian rested his chin on top of her head, his arms coming around her to hold her firmly against him. “I have never told a woman I loved her before, but for my own mum. In truth, I had ne
ver thought to say them at all, much less feel this way. I suppose in a sense you are right. My confession was prompted in part by our situation, but only in that the fear of losing you made me accept the truth far more quickly than I might have on my own. I can be a fairly obstinate man from time to time. A soul-baring admission, but there it is.”

  His fingers stroked her back, the heat of his body warming her through the thin lawn of her riding habit. Hero felt his lips against the crown of her head, against her temple and then her cheek. “So you’re saying that you do love me then?”

  She felt rather than heard his chuckle. “Must I grovel at your feet to convince you of it? Such a drastic step would exacerbate my male pride far more than tender words do. Besides, you should have more confidence in your own value, my love, and you need to develop some faith in me, as well. As I have in you,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “I never doubted your words of love, never thought that you might have said them hastily or without truth and I still don’t. Believe that this was meant to be. Destiny, if you will.”

  “Destiny?” Hero asked, pulling away to look up at him curiously. “I’ve read Plato’s thoughts on the matter. That humankind were once androgynous creatures split in half to create man and woman and that we move through time with something missing in ourselves, seeking what will make us whole. That ‘destiny’ will draw you or lead you to your other half. Your soul mate. Are you speaking of that sort of destiny, or something more benign? Because, given what you have told me of your life, it isn’t a philosophy that I had thought you would embrace.”

  “In truth, I never did. The idea grated against my very masculinity.” Ian shrugged. “I was always a far more avid advocate of Plato’s lesser known philosophy that ‘love is a serious mental disease.’”

  Chuckling, Hero shook her head. “Truly a more acceptable ideology for a bachelor.”

  Ian laughed as well, the warm affection in the sound and the embrace that accompanied it somehow as profound as his words of love. “Aye. But I won’t be a bachelor for much longer, will I? I will be a husband in love with his wife, firmly believing that fate brought me to Cuilean for you and thinking that Plato might have been far more clever than I ever gave him credit for.”