A Highlander's Heart: A Sexy Regency Romance (Highland Knights Book 1)

by Jennifer Haymore

  “It is no trouble, milady.”

  She and Bess walked to Mayfair in silence. When they arrived, she said good-bye to Bess, reflecting that she’d probably never see the woman again.

  Then she went in via the servants’ entrance. As she walked into the corridor, the first person she saw was Hugh, the butler. He nearly dropped the silver service he carried when he saw her.

  “My lady! What are you—”

  “Do you know where Grace is?”

  “Of course. Lady Grace is in her bedchamber.”

  “Thank you, Hugh.” Lifting her skirts, she hurried to the stairs and up them. She threw open the door to Grace’s room. Grace had been writing a letter, and she spun around, her hand clapping to her chest as the door banged back against the wall.

  “Good Lord, Claire! What are you—”

  “I have to go. Will you go with me?”

  Grace’s brow furrowed. “Go? Where?”

  “To Norsey House.”

  Grace’s features went slack, and there was a long moment of quiet. Then she rose and went to close the door behind Claire. She took Claire’s hands in her own and chafed them. “Your hands are so cold. What happened, dear?”

  Claire’s lower lip trembled. “I need to go see him.”

  “We’ll have to—”

  “I need to see him today.”

  Grace hesitated, then nodded, her eyes going glassy. She put her arms around Claire and drew her tight against her, stroking her back soothingly. “Yes, yes, of course. We’ll go to him today. As soon as we can get the carriage ready.”

  Claire sniffed and squeezed her sister hard. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Grace.”

  Grace always understood.

  * * *

  Rob worried about Claire all day. He was so damned confused. How could things be so right, then, in a matter of seconds, go so horribly wrong?

  Was it right for him to leave her in that state? She’d asked him to go. But she’d asked him to go in the past, and that hadn’t turned out well. Still, if he’d stayed, what could he have said to make things better?

  He never felt so helpless, so ineffectual, as when his wife cried. He was a problem solver by nature, so his approach to tears was the same as his approach to any other problem. He discerned the way to solve the problem, then solved it.

  But with Claire’s tears…nothing he’d done had ever solved the problem. His efforts only seemed to succeed in making it worse.

  And he hated…hated seeing her hurting. He hated not knowing why she was hurting, but she wouldn’t tell him. Worst of all was the fact that he couldn’t fix it.

  So when Sam Hawkins was talking to them about some of his previous missions for the Agency, Rob’s mind was mulling over whether walking away from Claire was a good idea or if it was the worst mistake of his life.

  Perhaps he’d been right to accede to her wishes to leave her. It’d give her time to calm down. To start thinking rationally again. And when he returned home tonight, he could ask her what the problem had been, and then he’d be able to solve it.

  This thought sustained him, but worry still wound him tight. What could it be? Everything had been going so well. What had he done to ruin it…yet again?

  The day was a long one. Sam Hawkins taught the men ways of being discreet among members of their class. Among the comparatively emotionless Englishmen.

  Emotions… When it came to him and his wife, they had such a different way of expressing them. Evidently, the rule of emotionless Englishmen did not extend to their women.

  They arrived back at the town house in the early evening. Innes, Ross, Fraser, and McLeod asked for permission to try the new horses Adams had arranged for them to have. Stirling, who was tired after his long night last night, headed off to his room to sleep. Mackenzie said he wanted to write some letters.

  Rob waved them all away and went on the hunt for his wife. It had worried him when he hadn’t seen her smiling face as soon as they’d opened the door. God. Maybe she was still up in the room weeping.

  She wasn’t there. The bed was smartly made, and all was silent. He wandered the corridor, calling her name, and almost ran headfirst into the maid, Bess.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sir Robert,” the woman said with a curtsey.

  “Have you seen my wife?” he bit out.

  Bess frowned. “Aye, sir. She went to Lord Norsey’s house.”

  “Did she tell you when she’d be home?”

  “No, sir. She didn’t.”

  Rob spun around, then marched back to the bedchamber he shared with Claire. He sat on the edge of the bed, pushing his hand into his hair. What did this mean? What could he do?

  He was at a loss. He had no idea if she was angry, if she was still sad, if she would be returning home, if he should go find her at her father’s house.

  In short, he had no clue as to what was going on. And no idea how to fix it. He needed help.

  He snapped up off the bed and walked down to the end of the corridor to Stirling’s room. He hesitated, but then decided a distraction might be good for his friend. He rapped sharply three times. “Sorry to bother ye, Stirling. But d’ye mind coming to the drawing room for a few minutes?”

  “I’ll be there. Give me a moment,” came Stirling’s voice.

  Rob strode three doors down and knocked on Mackenzie’s door. Mackenzie seemed to have made great strides with Claire’s sister. He might have some insight into these women’s perplexing minds. Rob made the same request of Mackenzie as he had of Stirling, then went downstairs to wait for them.

  He was pacing the room when the two other men entered.

  “What’s wrong, Major?” Stirling asked.

  “Ye need to stop calling me major, Stirling. I’m no’ a major. Not anymore.”

  Stirling shrugged, nonplussed. “Ye’ll always be a major to me. Anyhow, I’ll not be calling you Sir Robert just as ye’ll never be calling me Sir Colin.”

  Rob plunked down on one of the armchairs. “You’re right. I dinna think it’ll ever be possible for me to think of ye as a Sir Colin.”

  Stirling snorted. “I dinna think it’ll ever be familiar even for me.” He settled on the sofa across from Rob, and Mackenzie sat beside him. “Why’d you call us here…Major?”

  Rob sighed. “It’s my wife.”

  Both of the other men’s brows rose, and they glanced at each other in surprise.

  “Where is Lady Campbell?” Mackenzie asked.

  “She’s gone to her father’s.”

  “To visit with Lady Grace?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I dinna think so.”

  “Then why?” Stirling asked.

  “That is why I need your help, lads.” Rob threw up his hands in confusion. “I’ve no’ the slightest idea.”

  He told them about this morning, saving the private details. He closed his eyes, remembering her soft skin against his fingertips. He said he’d awoken to discover she was already awake, and he’d put his arms around her.

  “And then,” he said, “she started blubberin’.”

  “She started weeping?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Aye.”

  “D’ye ken why?”

  “I havena the faintest idea. I…I’m bewildered.” He shook his head in confusion.

  “So what’d ye do?” Stirling leaned forward in interest.

  “Well, I told her to stop.”

  “Ye…told her to stop,” Stirling repeated slowly.

  “Aye.” Rob frowned at Stirling.

  “Then what?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Well, I told her she must calm down because she couldna speak with me in that state. I told her she must stop, but she wouldna listen. She told me to go. So I left.”

  “You left?” Stirling asked, aghast.

  “Aye.” His frown turned into a scowl. Both Mackenzie and Stirling were looking at him as if they believed that decision had been very bad indeed. “You lads were waiting for me,” he said by way of explanation. “And she’d told me s
he wanted me to go away. So I did.”

  Stirling groaned, and Mackenzie played with the edge of fabric on his sling.

  “What’d I do wrong?” Rob asked, confused as ever.

  “Ye canna approach everyone like you did me last night,” Stirling said. “I’m a soldier, and you’re my commanding officer. When you demand I stop doing something, I take that as an order, and I stop…if I can. Women are different. Ye canna bark commands at them.”

  “Especially when they are overwrought,” Mackenzie added. After a short silence, he asked. “Do ye have any sisters, Major?”

  “Only the one brother.”

  “I’ve six sisters.”

  Rob coughed. “I’m sorry, man,” he said in sympathy.

  “Ye get used to them.”

  “Or you commit the sin of suicide,” Stirling said cheerfully, “or murder.”

  “And how many sisters do you have, Stirling?” Rob asked.

  “I have two. But they’re twins. They’re two years older than me. And they took special pleasure in making my early years a living hell.”

  Rob rubbed his temples. “I dinna ken what to do. You’re telling me I shouldn’t’ve left her this morning?”

  “Rule one,” Stirling said, “never leave a woman weeping.”

  Rob groaned. “Why not? I canna speak to her when she’s in that condition.”

  “Oftentimes, you dinna need to speak,” Mackenzie said.

  “Then what do ye do?”

  “Pet her,” Mackenzie said. “Pat her back and her hair and the like.” He demonstrated, making little petting motions on the armrest of his chair.

  “Well, she isna a sister,” Stirling said with a wry smile. “Ye can haul her into your arms and kiss her. Then pet her.”

  “And wipe her tears away.”

  “Make sure you do it gently,” Stirling admonished.

  “I canna see how this solves the problem,” Rob argued.

  “When a woman weeps, it’s because she’s been hurt somehow. It can be a hurt from the moment or a past hurt,” Mackenzie said. “There’s generally no telling which. There’s little logic to it. And sometimes there’s no way to solve the problem right that moment, like ye might want.”

  “Did ye do anything to upset her this morning?” Stirling asked.

  Rob shook his head, remembering how he’d made her come. Twice. How perfectly contented and relaxed she’d seemed until he’d dragged her bottom against him and held her. “Nay. Nothing.”

  “A past hurt, then. Did she have anything that might be building within her?”

  Rob pressed his lips together and shook his head. But of course, one thing came to mind right away.

  They had studiously refrained from talking about Jamie. Things seemed to disintegrate whenever they did, and what had been growing between them was so fragile it could have been ruined with one angry word.

  “What about Waterloo?” Mackenzie asked. “Did something happen to her there?”

  “Perhaps it was too much for her—an Englishwoman of her breeding, seeing all that misery and pestilence,” Stirling commented.

  “Nay,” Rob said harshly. “She’s strong. It wasna easy for any of us, but she wasna damaged by it. She’s a strong woman.”

  “She seems to be.” Mackenzie frowned. “What then? Something must’ve devastated her.”

  Rob rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, trying to hide any emotion that might be showing in them.

  She’d been thinking of Jamie. There was only one other time he’d seen Claire cry like that, and that was in the days after their wee babe had died.

  He’d walked away then too. How do you solve the problem of your child dying? There was no solution. In those days, Rob had wanted nothing more than the ability to bring their son back for her. And for himself.

  He had tried awkwardly to comfort Claire, but she wouldn’t be comforted. She wanted him gone. So when the regiment was called, he left, feeling impotent, useless, and completely empty.

  He’d left her. If what Mackenzie and Stirling was telling him was true, he’d made a huge mistake.

  “Ye ken what it was,” Stirling said softly. “What upset her.”

  Rob gave him a grim look. “Aye. I might.”

  Both Mackenzie and Stirling stared at him for a moment. When he didn’t volunteer anything further, Mackenzie said, “I ken why she left. You walked away from her first. She feels ye dinna care.”

  Rob blinked at the younger man in surprise. Then he ground his teeth. “Nay. Not possible.”

  Nothing…nothing had ever destroyed him more than watching his infant son take his last breath. Nothing.

  Claire knew that. She must know.

  “But ye walked away,” Stirling said softly. “Why should she think you care? Have you given her any indication that ye do?”

  “Of course I—” He broke off.

  He’d left her a week after Jamie died. She’d still been abed, recovering and overwhelmed by grief. He’d returned to Norsey House two months later to encounter an angry virago who hated him and never wished to see him again. Bewildered by her behavior, he’d nonetheless taken her words literally, and he’d left her again.

  The next time he’d seen her was on the Waterloo battlefield.

  He’d never understood why she suddenly despised him so much. Not until this moment. Because he’d left her. Because he’d given her no indication that he cared. He’d kept it all bottled up inside, trying to be strong for her sake.

  And this morning, he’d left her again. Damn, but he was an idiot.

  He stood abruptly. “I need to go to her.”

  “Aye, you do,” Stirling said, rising.

  “I’ll go with you, Major,” Mackenzie said. “I am fond of Lady Campbell, and I ken the other lads are as well. We all want her back.”

  Stirling clapped Rob on the shoulder. “Dinna forget the petting.”

  “Aye,” Mackenzie said, “the petting is important. But…” He gave Rob a keen look. “Whatever it is, ye must let her know that ye feel it as much as she does.”

  Rob gave Mackenzie a hard look. How the hell would the lad know that?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Claire and her sister weren’t at their father’s Mayfair house, and no one would tell him where they’d gone. Her father wasn’t at home, but Rob recalled from his days living here that the earl spent Wednesday evenings in his club.

  He and Mackenzie rushed to Boodles and banged on the door. The servant that answered, a narrow, pinched-faced man, gave them a haughty look. “Sirs.”

  “I must speak with the Earl of Norsey.”

  “The Earl of Norsey is occupied at the moment. And since you are not members of this establishment, I cannot allow you entry. Good night.” The man started to shut the door, but Rob stuck his foot in it so it wouldn’t close. The man looked down at Rob’s foot, his face twisted with annoyance.

  “Sir, I—”

  “My name is Major Sir Robert Campbell,” Rob said, stepping forward and leaning over the man, making him cower back. “I have just returned from Waterloo, where I fought in Wellington’s army, killed seven men with my claymore, and injured God knows how many others. I could crush ye like a bug and walk over your dead body and find Lord Norsey myself. But I’d rather not, ye ken?”

  The man gulped.

  “I’d rather ye run and bring Lord Norsey to me. Now.”

  There was no hesitation on the man’s face. He scampered away. Mackenzie gave him an impressed look and blew out a low whistle.

  Rob kept his back stiff and held his foot in the door. In no more than three minutes, the servant returned with the Earl of Norsey. The man’s gray brows rose when he saw Rob. He shooed away the servant, opened the door wider, and stood at the threshold.

  “Campbell,” he said brusquely. His gaze passed over Mackenzie, but he didn’t greet him.

  “Where’s Claire?” Rob growled.

  The earl straightened. “Do you really wish to know?”


  Rob smacked the wall beside the earl’s head with the flat of his hand, making the older man jump. “Aye, I do.”

  The earl sighed, deflating. He suddenly looked old. Defeated. “She’s been through enough. Why can’t the two of you just leave each other in peace?”

  Rob ground his teeth. “Nay. That isna going to happen. Not now. She’s my wife. She should be with me.”

  “You’ve been married almost three years. You’re only now realizing this? You’re a fool, boy.”

  “Aye, I am. And I’m trying to stop being a fool before it’s too late.”

  “She’s in Kent,” the earl said tiredly, “at Norsey House. She wanted to be with your son.”

  Your son. Claire had gone to Norsey House to be with his son. Emotions slammed into Rob like a punch in the gut. He staggered backward, unable to breathe.

  “Thank you,” he choked out. Then he turned to Mackenzie. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Claire and Grace arrived at Norsey House in the late afternoon. They were met by the housekeeper and several footmen, but Claire turned away as soon as they stepped out of the carriage.

  “Claire, will you not at least have a bite to eat before you go out there?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Grace sighed. “Do you want me to come?”

  “No.” Claire tried to smile at her sister, but that didn’t quite work. “I just want to be alone with him for a while,” she said quietly. “I’ll be back at the house before dark.”

  “Be home by dark,” Grace warned, “or I’m coming after you.”

  Claire could feel her sister’s worried eyes on her as she walked the length of the grand Tudor-style house, painted white with black timbers, with its diamond-paned windows and enormous capped chimneys. She turned and took two steps along the side of the house before stopping to catch her breath and blink furiously. It was the first time in hours Grace hadn’t been fretting over her like a mother hen.

  She stared up at the summer sky. The air was a bit damp after a morning rain, and the ground sodden beneath her shoes, but the sky was a brilliant blue and the air was warm and so much cleaner than the air in London.

  After a moment, she began walking again. Foxglove and baby’s breath bloomed along the edges of the path, and Claire collected the best blooms until her arms were full.