Read Online My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Angeline Fortin
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… three.
Ian counted the spaces as she skipped across them, watching her delicate fingers drift through the air before once again skimming the stone walls. The wind was even greater here than it had been on the upper balcony, but then Ian had noticed that the ramparts always seemed to be the windiest area of the castle. The breezes from the firth collided with the higher walls and, as if they knew not which way to go, would swirl about the ramparts, pushing and pulling against anyone who walked the walls.
That wind was pulling at Hero now, and tendrils of her golden hair were escaping her once-neat coiffure and licking across her face and neck. The long streamers of her gown that had once lain tamely against the silk were dancing merrily about her skirts.
At the sixth break in the wall, Hero stopped and turned, seating herself within the notch. After adjusting her skirts daintily, she propped an elbow against the higher portion of the wall and, brushing a piece of hair away from her face, considered him thoughtfully with her vivid azure eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “You see me as a sister then?”
Ian stared blankly at her for a moment. He had been so taken by the picture she presented that his earlier words were the farthest thing from his mind. She was so lovely, so desirable. Angelic yet seductive. Brotherly affection was nearly the last thing he felt for her, but he’d be damned if he were going to admit it. This strange magnetism between them had already cost him a slap or two to his male pride. Leaning back against the inner wall, Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “You should be careful there. This wind has the force to push you over the edge, and it’s a long fall to the firth below.”
“ Almost 150 feet,” she responded, not bothering to look down. “I spent many an evening sitting just so; you needn’t worry for me.”
“ I find myself quite concerned.”
“ As for a sister?” she persisted.
Ian met her gaze. Her words were bold ones, prodding even, seeking something that Ian hadn’t yet truly accepted. Hero was the Marchioness of Ayr, a woman worth more respect than his ogling and lustful thoughts had yet delivered. He wanted her. Still, it was more than that. There was an undeniable connection between them, something more than attraction or mere desire. He wanted her body beneath his, true enough, but it was what else he wanted that was eluding him.
An indefinable longing for something … more.
The sentimentality of the thought grated at Ian’s nerves, and his answer, when it finally came, was evasive. “I doubt I would want to waltz with a sister if I had one.”
Her airy rebuttal was immediate. “A cousin, then?”
“ I haven’t many of those either,” Ian quipped lightly, but Hero didn’t respond. Instead, she merely watched him intently, as if she were waiting for something greater to emerge from his lips. What was she waiting for? A confession? Admission that he found her intoxicating, bewitching?
He’d be a fool to admit such a thing. Their opportunity for comfortable cohabitation was hanging in the balance. If he said the wrong thing, Hero might feel the need to leave Cuilean, and he didn’t want that. Yet if she continued to prod him so with her steady gaze, Ian felt that he might find himself saying those very things.
“ Lord Ayr?”
Ian needed to stop her questions before he said something he'd regret. He needed to break away from her probing gaze.
“ Won’t you say something?”
Ian shook his head. He could either walk away or …
Pushing himself off the wall, Ian crossed the short space between them in a single stride. Bending, he caught her around the waist, pulling her up and against him even as his lips descended. He took her lips in a fiery kiss full of the desire he’d been feeling all day and the frustration of these last few moments.
A squeal of surprise escaped Hero
Ian counted the spaces as she skipped across them, watching her delicate fingers drift through the air before once again skimming the stone walls. The wind was even greater here than it had been on the upper balcony, but then Ian had noticed that the ramparts always seemed to be the windiest area of the castle. The breezes from the firth collided with the higher walls and, as if they knew not which way to go, would swirl about the ramparts, pushing and pulling against anyone who walked the walls.
That wind was pulling at Hero now, and tendrils of her golden hair were escaping her once-neat coiffure and licking across her face and neck. The long streamers of her gown that had once lain tamely against the silk were dancing merrily about her skirts.
At the sixth break in the wall, Hero stopped and turned, seating herself within the notch. After adjusting her skirts daintily, she propped an elbow against the higher portion of the wall and, brushing a piece of hair away from her face, considered him thoughtfully with her vivid azure eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “You see me as a sister then?”
Ian stared blankly at her for a moment. He had been so taken by the picture she presented that his earlier words were the farthest thing from his mind. She was so lovely, so desirable. Angelic yet seductive. Brotherly affection was nearly the last thing he felt for her, but he’d be damned if he were going to admit it. This strange magnetism between them had already cost him a slap or two to his male pride. Leaning back against the inner wall, Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “You should be careful there. This wind has the force to push you over the edge, and it’s a long fall to the firth below.”
“ Almost 150 feet,” she responded, not bothering to look down. “I spent many an evening sitting just so; you needn’t worry for me.”
“ I find myself quite concerned.”
“ As for a sister?” she persisted.
Ian met her gaze. Her words were bold ones, prodding even, seeking something that Ian hadn’t yet truly accepted. Hero was the Marchioness of Ayr, a woman worth more respect than his ogling and lustful thoughts had yet delivered. He wanted her. Still, it was more than that. There was an undeniable connection between them, something more than attraction or mere desire. He wanted her body beneath his, true enough, but it was what else he wanted that was eluding him.
An indefinable longing for something … more.
The sentimentality of the thought grated at Ian’s nerves, and his answer, when it finally came, was evasive. “I doubt I would want to waltz with a sister if I had one.”
Her airy rebuttal was immediate. “A cousin, then?”
“ I haven’t many of those either,” Ian quipped lightly, but Hero didn’t respond. Instead, she merely watched him intently, as if she were waiting for something greater to emerge from his lips. What was she waiting for? A confession? Admission that he found her intoxicating, bewitching?
He’d be a fool to admit such a thing. Their opportunity for comfortable cohabitation was hanging in the balance. If he said the wrong thing, Hero might feel the need to leave Cuilean, and he didn’t want that. Yet if she continued to prod him so with her steady gaze, Ian felt that he might find himself saying those very things.
“ Lord Ayr?”
Ian needed to stop her questions before he said something he'd regret. He needed to break away from her probing gaze.
“ Won’t you say something?”
Ian shook his head. He could either walk away or …
Pushing himself off the wall, Ian crossed the short space between them in a single stride. Bending, he caught her around the waist, pulling her up and against him even as his lips descended. He took her lips in a fiery kiss full of the desire he’d been feeling all day and the frustration of these last few moments.
A squeal of surprise escaped Hero
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