The

Highlander’s

Woman

by

Monica Burns

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This digital book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at monicaburns@monicaburns.com.

Copyright © 2015 by Kathi B. Scearce

ISBN 978-0-9862431-2-7

Cover Design: Viviana Izzo, Enchantress Design & Promo

Kathi B. Scearce DBA Monica Burns - Maroli SP Imprints

P.O. Box 75072

Richmond, VA 23236

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Publishing History

Digital 1.0 edition / September 2015

Acknowledgements

Thanks and endless gratitude to Viviana Izzo (Enchantress Design & Promo) for her awesome help in making this cover shine and all her marketing savvy, plus reminders for this addled brain of mine, along with the occasional kick in the butt, plus the fun late night conversations and those minion stickers on Facebook. You are truly awesome, Viviana.

Special shout out to my awesome beta reader Kris Bloom, you are the anchor that keeps my ship from sailing south when I’m supposed to be going north, whether it’s sexual tension or overall plot. Your feedback is so valued. Thank you.

Words of thanks and deep appreciation go out to Debbie Samson Fitts and Rhonda Kirby for using their eyes to do line edits for me. Ladies, you rock!

Finally thank you to my RED HOTS for all you do for me. I love you all ladies, thanks so much for your help in spreading the word about my books.

Author’s Note

The Gaelic terms of affection included in this

work are derived from different sources, including

Outlander Wiki and Dwelly's great Scots Gaelic - English dictionary

mo leannan - Gaelic for sweetheart

mo ghràdh - Gaelic for “my beloved” or “my love”

a shùgh mo chridhe - Gaelic for “my dearest” or “my darling heart”

mo chridhe - Gaelic for “my heart”

Chapter 1

Late Spring 1897

Lady Patience allowed her future brother-in-law to escort her onto the dance floor. She smiled as he glanced over his shoulder at her sister, Constance, and his grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Lyndham. With an imperialistic demeanor, the elderly lady had ordered Constance to sit with her while sending her grandson away to dance with Patience.

“You mustn’t worry,” Patience said quietly. “My sister hasn’t the slightest idea what we’re up to. Your grandmother is playing her part beautifully.”

“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this deception,” Lucien Blakemore, Earl of Lyndham said with a growl. “Constance does not like to be manipulated.”

“Do you love my sister, my lord?”

“With every fiber of my being.” The intensity of emotion in his voice made Patience’s heart swell with happiness for her sister.

“Then trust me,” Patience said softly. “Let your grandmother work her magic and all will be well. My sister loves you. She simply needs to know that you love her completely as she is. You do understand what that means.”

“Yes,” he said with a sharp nod. “Without her gift, she wouldn’t be my Constance. The woman I fell in love with.”

“I have no doubt that when you tell her that, she’ll believe you love her,” Patience said reassuringly.

With a nod, the earl pulled her into his arms and twirled her out onto the dance floor with the other dancers. Over his shoulder, Patience saw her sister frown at something the dowager countess said. She laughed softly at her sister’s obstinate frown.

“I like your grandmother very much, Lucien,” Patience said as she smiled up at her partner. “You don’t mind that I call you Lucien, do you? After all, we’re practically family.”

“You’re quite confident about all of this,” he said with a small smile.

“If I weren’t, I would never have approached you with this plan in the first place.” Patience laughed mischievously and over Lucien’s shoulder she saw her sister walking out of the ballroom with Lady Lyndham. She tapped her future brother-in-law on the shoulder.

“The curtain is about to go up on the final act of our little performance. You’d best follow them now.” Lucien guided her off the dance floor and carried her hand up to his lips.

“If this works, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Yes, you will, and any Rockwood will assure you I always collect on my debts,” Patience said with another laugh. “Now go make my sister happy.”

With a look of determination on his face, Lucien nodded then pushed his way through the crowd and out the door Constance and the dowager had passed through. Left behind, Patience stared after him feeling satisfied that she’d played a role in securing her sister’s happiness.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment as she remembered her vision of Constance’s future happiness. It would be a long and happy one. Of all the Rockwood siblings, Patience was the most forthcoming about her gift. If there was anything people could say about her, it was that she was as eccentric as she was impulsive. Traits that indicated she was a true Rockwood.

But it was her eccentricity that had put off suitors. The ones who had come calling had left as soon as they learned she had the ability to see things. Whether it was because she was simply different or that they envisioned her gift would allow her to spy on them, she had no idea. Over time she gave up caring and had made herself happy in her role as the spinster in the Rockwood family.

All of that had changed when Julian had entered her life less than a year ago. He’d been neither put off by her impulsive mannerisms or her gift. The an dara sealladh, as Julian called it, was viewed as a gift by his countrymen. The thought of her husband, made Patience’s heart ache. He’d been in Scotland helping his father, the Crianlarich, for the past two months with estate business.

Despite the multiple letters they shared each week, she missed him more with each passing day. Aunt Matilda had urged her to join Julian in Scotland, but Patience knew it would only make things difficult for them both. If she’d gone, her father-in-law would have ensured her stay was as unpleasant as possible. It would have also made things more contentious between Julian and his father.

The Laird of Crianlarich had taken a dislike to her before she’d ever met him. Instead of taking a Scottish bride as his father had demanded, Julian had chosen her. Patience had been settled firmly on the shelf when Julian had entered her life. He’d pursued her relentlessly from the moment they met at a dinner party she’d accompanied Aunt Matilda to during a stay at Callendar Abbey.

It had taken him only two weeks to propose and convince her to marry him. Just like their whirlwind courtship, their wedding had been accomplished in less than a month. Although Patience was certain Fergus MacTavish loved his son, the Crianlarich was a hard man. She knew that from experience. The man had almost refused to welcome her into the castle shortly after the wedding when Julian had taken her home to meet his father and sister.

Like his father, Julian was incredibly stubborn. He’d threatened to leave Crianlarich Castle and never return if Fergus MacTavish didn’t welcome her as Julian’s bride. It was the ultimate testimony of her husband’s love for her. He’d chosen Patience over his father’s objections. But something deep inside said the Crianlarich’s vehement reservations had been because he questioned her suitability based on her age and her ability to bear a child.

A vise wrapped itself around Patience’s heart. In less than a year of marriage she’d not been able to bear a son. Perhaps Fergus MacTavish was right. Marrying her might have been the worst thing Julian could ever have done. Suddenly feeling more alone than ever before, she released a sigh. While she had no desire to go home to a cold, empty bed, she had even less of a desire to remain here.

Patience glanced around for the shortest, yet least sociable, path through the crowd to the ballroom exit. She’d taken only a few steps when a frisson brushed across the back of her neck and shoulders. It was like a cool summer breeze skimming across her skin. Confused by the sensation, she lightly touched the spot where her neck and shoulder met then turned her head to study the dancers leaving the dance floor.

In a gentle wave of motion, the dancers parted, and her breath caught in her throat. From across the dance floor Patience met her husband’s dark gaze. Julian was here. But he hadn’t sent any word he was coming back to London today. Had he sensed her loneliness in her letters?

Dressed in the formal Scottish attire that had been made popular by the Queen’s love of Scotland, her husband looked splendid. His strong, ruggedly beautiful, male features were drawing a great deal of attention, and Patience was warmed by the knowledge that Julian belonged to her and no other woman.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze pinned on her as if he was a bird of prey and she was a small hare. It was a familiar, yet delicious, sensation where Julian was concerned. He was far too sure of himself to show jealousy. But if there was one thing her husband had always done well, it was to make certain other men knew she was his. It made her feel cherished and coveted.

As they studied each other across the floor, Patience drank in the fine figure he made in his formal attire. She’d always enjoyed seeing her brothers wear the Stewart colors on formal occasions, but Julian had never just worn his kilts, he made the kilt wear him. Silver buttons adorned his dark blue Prince Charlie jacket and matching waistcoat, which were a stark contrast to his crisply starched white shirt and black tie.

The formal, waist-length jacket lovingly embraced the breadth of him, while an elegant fly plaid was draped over the back of his left shoulder. It was held in place by the large silver brooch his mother had given him when he was a child. He wore the dark-red tartan of the MacTavish clan, and the sporran attached to his kilt hung just below his waist, while the kilt brushed the top of his bare knees.

Black hose covered strong, muscular calves, and short tails of material known as flashes were tucked under the top of the hose to brush the sides of his legs. Patience’s heart skipped a beat as she remembered how her legs had often tangled with his when they’d made love. Desire spiraled through her as she stared at her husband.

Dark hair fell carelessly across his brow giving him the appearance of a man who cared little for what others thought. His sharp, angular features were those of a proud, arrogant Highlander, which his stance emphasized. In another era, he could have easily passed for a fierce, warrior Scotsman.

Excitement fluttered through her as Julian slowly made his way toward her. Mesmerized, Patience stood frozen as his gaze never left hers. Music filled the air as he stopped in front of her and offered his hand to her. He didn’t say a word. Strong and masculine, his hand was fully capable of crushing hers, but it had only ever been used in tenderness with her. Obediently, she placed her hand in his.

The instant she did so, the wave of heat rolling over her made her draw in a sharp breath. His gaze immediately narrowed, and a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. God, how she’d missed him. In silence, he pulled her into his arms and swung her out onto the dance floor.

Mere inches separated them, and Patience breathed in his crisp pine scent. It reminded her of the woods at her aunt’s estate in Scotland. It was the smell of the outdoors, and it was a heady aroma. Strength radiated off of him, and she stumbled slightly. He immediately pulled her close, his arm hard and solid around her waist.

“Are you the same Lady Patience that is married to that scoundrel Julian MacTavish?” The softly spoken question reverberated with humor, and Patience arched her eyebrows at him.

“I am indeed, sir,” she said. “And what of it, might I ask?”

“I’ve heard he has been neglecting his wife.”

“I had heard that rumor as well, sir.” Patience schooled her features into a serious expression and nodded. “Do you suppose he intends to remedy that woeful situation?”

“Aye, that he does.” A wicked gleam in his eye, Julian smiled. “How can he no’, when he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“With words like that, I think MacTavish will find his wife eager for him to correct such a deplorable state of marital bliss.” She laughed as she met his mischievous gaze, and his mouth curved into a sinful smile.

“And what types of pleasure do you think MacTavish’s wife would enjoy the most?” Julian’s brogue whispered against her skin like a wisp of heather from the highlands.

“As I recall, there is one particular pleasure she likes very much. Of course, it does require one to remove their clothes.” Patience looked up at him innocently then smiled as his eyes darkened with desire.

“You are a sassy wench, Lady Patience. I will remember that when we get home.”

Julian swung her around the dance floor, and she basked in the heat of his passionate gaze. A bolt of desire sliced through her as she imagined herself entwined in his arms once they were home. Patience’s body grew warm at the delightful images flowing through her mind, but in the next instant, her happiness was overwhelmed by fear and confusion.

Wheels from an overturned carriage spun wildly in the air before fire and smoke surrounded her. No matter what direction she moved, the smoke made it difficult to breathe while flames painfully seared her skin. As the fire raged around her, she tried to find a way out, but she couldn’t move.

Suddenly the flames were gone, and in their place was the image of her arm and face covered with horrific scars and mottled flesh. Frightened by the terrible image, Patience gasped as a chill wrapped itself around her and the images receded into the background.

“Patience. What is it a shùgh mo chridhe?” Julian’s voice was rough with concern as he stared down at her. “Tell me what you see.”

“What?” she whispered in a state of bewilderment.

Someplace deep inside she noted that even with a frown of worry on his face, her husband was still devastating to the senses. As her bemusement slowly faded, she regained her focus on her surroundings. Suddenly, she realized Julian was literally carrying most of her weight as he continued to twirl her around the dance floor.

“You must put me down, Julian. Someone will think something is amiss.”

“That is stating the obvious, my bonnie lass,” he said in a grim voice. “But I think it better we leave the floor rather than me setting you on your feet and you tumbling to the floor.”

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I think you’re right.”

With two more graceful turns, Julian maneuvered them close to one of the open doors leading out onto the terrace. As they reached the edge of the dance floor, Julian set Patience on the floor in a fluid movement that disguised the fact that he’d been carrying her throughout the dance. His arm still wrapped around her waist, he held her close so she could lean against his side. The moment they merged into the throng congregating around the dance floor, several people expressed concern for her. With a polite, yet firm manner, Julian brushed their fears aside as he guided Patience toward the door leading into the dark.

Even the cool air on her face did little to make her feel better. It was far too reminiscent of the icy cold that had engulfed her as her vision had faded. With a small sound of dismay, she glanced down at her arm as she remembered the mottled skin she’d seen on her arm and face. She was no more vain than the next person when it came to being badly scarred. But it was the pain one would have to suffer for such horrible scars she had no desire to endure.

“It will soon pass, mo leannan,” he whispered against her brow as he guided her toward the outer edges of the walled terrace that overlooked the gardens.

Patience loved hearing him call her sweetheart in Gaelic. It was a soothing sound that warmed and reassured her that she was safe with Julian at her side. With a nod, she breathed the cool air into her lungs as the weakness and disorientation that always accompanied her visions began to ebb away.

When they reached the waist-high wall that bordered the terrace, Julian slowly withdrew his support while ensuring she wouldn’t collapse at his feet. Without thinking, Patience stared down at her arm once more, fully expecting to see scarred tissue. The untouched skin made her drag in a breath of relief.

“Tell me what the an dara sealladh, showed you, mo leannan.” His brogue gained strength as the Gaelic rolled off his tongue. From the moment they’d met, Julian had only to speak and she was putty in his hands. She shook her head.

“It was nothing.” She dismissed his concern with a shake of her head. Despite her determination to shrug off the vision, it was difficult to completely ignore the vivid memory of her burned face and arm.

“That is no’ an answer, Mrs. MacTavish.” The commanding note in his voice said he would have the truth from her one way or another.

“But it is the only one I can give you, Julian. There was no rhyme or reason to it.” Patience eyed him with a small amount of frustration. The dark frown of worry on his face made her soften her tone. “I saw an overturned carriage with its wheels spinning wildly in the air. Then I was surrounded by flames and smoke. You know my gift is sometimes nothing more than symbols representing things happening around me.”

“Aye, but your aunt wrote me that you had the same vision when you were with her last week.” He paused for a moment as his large hand caressed her cheek. “She said you were left quite shaken by it.”

“Aunt Matilda is far too busy meddling in the affairs of the Rockwood family and not her own personal matters,” Patience said with exasperation.

“I think that is something akin to the pot calling the kettle black, considering you are here tonight meddling in your sister’s personal affairs.” The amusement in his voice made her jerk in surprise.

“Who told you?” Patience exclaimed then quickly shook her head as she rolled her eyes. “Aunt Matilda.”

“Aye,” he chuckled. “She’s a veritable fount of information when it comes to the Rockwood clan. But she was right to send me word of your vision and its effect on you.”

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Patience said softly as she brushed her fingers across his temple. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“No’ as much as I have missed you mo ghràdh.”

The Gaelic term for ‘my love’ filled her heart with happiness. From the moment they’d met it had been Julian’s brogue that had seduced her. He whispered more endearments as he pulled her into his arms. How she’d missed him these past two months. The nearness of him made her tremble, while the potent, male scent of him filled her senses.

“You tremble, lass,” he murmured with a hint of laughter in his voice as he bent his head to nibble at her earlobe. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” she whispered as her body responded to the playful nip on her ear. “I’m only afraid you’ll leave again.”

“You need have no’ fear of that, mo ghràdh. I’ve no intention of doing so.”

Julian’s fingers caught her chin and tilted her head up to kiss her hard. Muscular arms held her in a tight embrace. Her hands splayed against the lapels of his jacket, the hard, solid muscles of his chest pressed into her palms and made her ache to see him undressed. The furious beat of his heart pounded against her fingertips betraying his excitement.

His tongue slipped past her lips and mated with hers in a furious duel of heat and passion. A primitive need threatened to consume her as her body craved what she’d been denied for so long. In a wanton display of desire, she pressed her body into his and rubbed her hips against him in a silent demand for what only he could give her.

A dark growl vibrated out of his chest as he roughly caught her hand and dragged it down to where he was rock hard beneath his kilt. Knowing he held tight to the tradition of wearing nothing beneath his Scottish garb, her fingers grabbed the side of his tartan and quickly scrunched it up. The plaid material fell over her wrist as she slipped her hand beneath his kilt to slide her palm up the inside of a sturdy thigh before grasping him firmly.

Thick and hard against her fingers, she stroked his erection in an upward movement until her thumb ran over the tip of him. A small droplet of wet desire clung to the swollen cap of his hard length, and she smeared it over his foreskin. The low groan rumbling in his chest indicated how much he liked what she was doing. She stroked him slowly again, and another guttural sound escaped him as he thrust his hips forward against her hand.

Dark hair fragrant with a mixture of soap and bergamot brushed her cheek as he lowered his head to caress the side of her neck and shoulders with his mouth. She tightened her grip on him and slid her fingers upward with a small jerk then back down to where his sacs were. The tips of her fingers scraped across them, and he jerked at the light caress.

Julian sucked in a sharp breath, and in the next instant, his hands were resting on her shoulders as he held her at arm’s length. The desire blazing in his gaze threatened to singe her as she looked up into his dark brown eyes. His breathing harsh and rapid, Julian shook his head as if to clear it.

“No’ here, mo ghràdh,” he ground out harshly. “I intend to bed my wife in the privacy of our own bedroom, because once I start, I’ll no’ be able to let her out of our bed.”

“Then I suggest we leave now, Mr. MacTavish, or I’ll be tempted to punish my husband by dancing the night away with as many men as possible.” The look of possessiveness that darkened Julian’s face made her laugh. “I take it you disapprove of my alternate plan of action.”

“Aye,” he snapped as he pulled her back into his arms. “You are mine mo ghràdh, and do no’ you ever forget it.”

“I won’t,” she said as she pull his head down and kissed him gently. The sudden echo of a cane tapping the flagstone patio made Patience jump, and Julian slowly released her.

“Lady Patience?” The aristocratic notes of the dowager Countess of Lyndham’s voice filtered through the air. Patience moved out of the darkness followed by Julian.

“I’m here, my lady.”

“Excellent, someone said you had come out to the terrace,” the woman said as she lifted her lorgnette to inspect Patience’s appearance. “You’re flushed, child.”

“Am I?” Patience touched her cheek with a small laugh of embarrassment.

The stately dowager countess braced both hands on the top of her cane to study Julian who had moved to stand at Patience’s side. The woman arched her eyebrows as her gaze ran up and down him. With her eyes still focused on Julian, the elderly woman’s mouth twisted in a small smile of appreciation.

“Now I understand why your cheeks are hot with color, Lady Patience,” the woman said with a distinct note of amusement in her voice. Patience could feel her cheeks grow even hotter beneath the dowager countess’ amused look. With a laugh, she shook her head at the elderly woman.

“Lady Lyndham, may I present my husband, Julian MacTavish,” Patience said with a distinct note of happiness in her voice. Lady Lyndham extended her hand, and Julian kissed the woman’s fingers with a small flourish.

“I am honored to at long last meet the elusive Dowager Countess of Lyndham.” Julian’s smile was designed to melt a woman’s heart, and for a brief second Patience experienced a twinge of jealousy.

“Elusive? Ha,” the elderly woman said with an unladylike snort of laughter. “You might be able to charm all the women here, but I’m far too old for flattery, my boy.”

“I can no’ believe that, my lady. A woman should never tire of being told how delightful her company is, no matter her age.”

Lady Lyndham laughed again as she dismissed his flirtation with a wave of her hand, but there was a distinct look of pleasure on her face at Julian’s compliment. The dowager turned toward Patience.

“My dear, might I borrow your carriage to take me home? My grandson is otherwise occupied, which is an excellent sign of his reconciliation with Constance,” the dowager said with a smile. “But I have no idea how long they’ll be, and I confess I am weary from all the excitement.”

“Of course,” Patience exclaimed as she noted the sudden look of exhaustion that had settled on the elderly woman’s face. “We were actually about to leave as well.”

“It would be our pleasure to take you home, Lady Lyndham.” Julian offered his arm to the woman. “Shall we?”

With a pace that matched the dowager’s, Julian escorted the elderly woman back into the well-lit ballroom.

§ § §

Patience’s eyes fluttered open as she covered her yawn with her hand. Dawn was barely peeking in through the bedroom curtains, and she smiled with happiness. Julian was home and all was right with her world.

“You’re beautiful, mo leannan. I will never be able to have enough of you.” The husky words startled her, and she jerked her head in his direction.

“You’re awake.”

“Aye.” Propped up on his elbow, Julian cradled his head in his hand as he stared down at her. “I have been for some time now.”

“And you didn’t wake me,” she teased as she remembered how they’d spent themselves in passionate lovemaking when they’d returned home last night after seeing the Dowager Countess Lyndham home.

“No, I’ve been watching my wife as she slept.” There was something almost reverent in his voice that tugged at her heart. Patience turned on her side and reached up to trail her fingertips across his cheeks until they came to rest on his lips.

“I hope I didn’t snore,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Just a gentle roar.” Julian’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and she quickly pushed him onto his back. She stared down at him in mock annoyance.

“A gentle roar? I’ll have you know I do not snore at all.”

“I’m sorry mo ghràdh.” He shook his head. “I do no’ lie, but it is a beautiful snore nonetheless.”

“I think perhaps I should punish you for such impertinence, Mr. MacTavish.”

“And what punishment might you inflict, madam?” His eyes darkened as his deep chuckle vibrated against the palm of her hand.

Patience lowered her head to flick her tongue over his left nipple before she grabbed it with her teeth and gently abraded it. The fresh scent of evergreen mixed with the heat of his skin and brushed against her nose as she breathed in the potent male smell of him. She nipped at him again, savoring the delicious taste of him against her tongue. The action pulled a low growl out of him. His hands cupped her face, but she pulled away to move her mouth lower to where he was already stiff and hard.

Feathering light kisses across his stomach, she blew gently on his erection before continuing to brush her mouth across his muscular hip down to his leg. He was hot and all male against her lips. Her mouth brushed over the small, birthmark on his hip that reminded her of a bird in flight. Gently, she bit down on the mauve colored flesh, marking him as hers in much the same way nature had. Another growl rumbled out of him, and she smiled against his skin before grazing her teeth across his leg to his inner thigh.

“If this is your form of punishment, mo leannan, I approve.”

“Do you?” she lifted her head and blew across his hard, thick length before her tongue flicked out to lightly trace its way up to the salty tip of him.

“Aye,” he said hoarsely as his fingers slipped through her hair to cradle the back of her head.

She blew across his erection again before her tongue swirled around the tip of him. Repeating the action, she heard him draw in a sharp hiss of air. Slowly, she licked across the top of him as she looked up at his face. Eyes closed, he arched his hips upward slightly in a silent request for her to continue.

When she didn’t move, his eyes opened, and she smiled at the frustration flashing in the dark depths. Their gazes locked, she licked the tip of him once more as she might a spoon covered with the last traces of cream. A low groan reverberated out of him.

“Should I stop?” she murmured as her tongue swirled around him once more.

“God, no.” He shook his head forcefully. “But I’d rather have you astride me, lass. I want to feel you wrapped around me—milking me the way only you can.”

Ignoring his words, she swirled her tongue around the cap of his thick length before she took him completely into her mouth. The action pulled a dark cry from his throat as his lower body jerked hard in a display of pleasure. As she slid her mouth up and down over his erection, she applied pressure to the spot just behind his sacs that she’d discovered always enhanced his pleasure. Another groan of desire echoed above her head as she tightened her mouth on him. He jerked again before his hands firmly grasped her arms, and he dragged her upward to make her straddle him.

“No, mo ghràdh, you will have your satisfaction, too.”

As he spoke, he thrust hard up into her. Pleasure streaked through her as their bodies joined together, and he encouraged her to ride him hard. One strong hand curled around her hip, while his other pressed against her breast bone to force her backward until his hard, thick length hit a sensitive spot inside her. The sensation tugged a cry of pleasure from her throat. Hands braced against his hard thighs, she arched her back and worshipped his body with hers as she met his thrusts with equal force.

With each stroke of her body against his, her heart beat faster as she cried out his name as desire cascaded over her. Heat spread its way through every cell in her body until she was on fire. A familiar sensation of euphoria began to build inside her, and she increased the pace of her body rocking against his.

Small ripples of pleasure pulled at her insides as her body gripped his with increasing pressure. The faster she moved against him, the more quickly her body pulsed against his. As her spasms increased, his body continued to pound fiercely against hers until in a fevered pitch of pleasure her body jerked to a stop. Her cry of satisfaction echoed over them as her insides shuddered and flexed around his thick erection.

A second later, his shout of pleasure matched hers as he made one last thrust into her then throbbed hard inside her. The intensity of their joining made her fall forward to press her forehead against hers. Harsh breaths emanated from both of them, and her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

Julian’s strong hands caressed her hips in a loving fashion before they slid up along her sides and cupped her face. With slow, tender kisses, his caresses left her sighing as she allowed her body to settle against his. Her head pressed into the curve of his shoulder, she breathed in his unique aroma. It was reminiscent of the beautiful, harsh, and wild highlands. It emphasized the man holding her came from a long line of fiercely proud and strong Scotsmen.

“I love you, Julian,” she whispered against his jaw. At her declaration he turned his head and pressed his lips to her brow.

“And I you, mo ghràdh,” he said with a rough edge of emotion in his voice. Nestled in his arms, Patience released a happy sigh, and a chuckle rumbled out of him. “I take it you are satisfied, Mrs. MacTavish?”

“For the moment,” she said with a laugh. His hand swatted her behind, and she yelped in surprise.

“My absence has turned you into an insatiable wench.” His fingers tilted her chin up so he could see her face. “But ‘tis good to know you missed me.”

“I did,” she whispered as she stroked a cheek rough with stubble. “Please don’t leave me alone for so long if you must go to Crianlarich.”

“I had no choice, Patience. My father had need of me, and I could no’ shirk my duty.”

Julian stared up at the ceiling, and the tension in him said her refusal to go to Crianlarich had disappointed him more than she realized. Worse, her request just now had sounded as if she didn’t want him to go back to his childhood home at all. She rested her hand on his heart as she curled into his side.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I didn’t mean it that way. I just missed you.”

“Then next time, come with me,” he said quietly. The statement made her stiffen.

“We both know that will make things more difficult for you.” She didn’t bother to elaborate that her father-in-law would do his best to make her miserable for the entire time she was at the castle.

“I know my father is a hard man, Patience. But he had thought I would marry a bride of his choosing.”

“A bride who didn’t have English blood.”

“There’s more than enough Stewart blood in you to suit my fancy.”

“And what about a bride who cannot give you a son,” she choked out.

With a small jerk, she pulled away from him to roll onto her side with her back to him. The Crianlarich wanted a grandson, and she’d failed to produce another heir to the Crianlarich lineage. She wanted nothing more than to give Julian a son, but she had come to believe it would never happen. Julian’s hand caressed her shoulder as he kissed the nape of her neck.

“You do your name injustice, Patience. These things take time.”

“And time only proves your father right,” she said with self-pity. “Marrying me might have been the worst thing you could have ever done.”

“Do no’ ever say that again,” he bit out harshly as with a sharp tug he forced her onto her back so he could stare down at her. The anger on his face made her eyes widen. “You’re mine, Patience MacTavish. I did no’ marry you because I needed an heir. I married you because I could no’ live without you.”

The fierce declaration made tears form in her eyes as she stared up at him. His harsh expression softened as he shook his head then kissed her gently.

“You belong to me, Patience.” A possessive note rang through his whisper as his gaze roved its way across her bare body before returning to her face. “Do no’ ever forget that.”

Patience nodded and cupped his cheek with her hand. Julian turned his face into her palm and pressed his mouth hard against her skin.

“Show me I’m yours,” she whispered. Desire darkened Julian’s face as the back of his hand brushed its way across the base of her neck.

“With pleasure, mo leannan. With pleasure,” he uttered hoarsely before his mouth captured hers in a passionate kiss.

Chapter 2

The rattle of china pierced Patience’s sleep, and she sat up to see Julian seated at the breakfast table next to their bedroom window.

“Do you intend to spend the rest of the day in bed, Mrs. MacTavish?” he said without looking at her. The amusement in his voice made Patience toss a pillow at his head. For the past three days, he’d been the one insistent on spending most of the day in bed. Julian easily batted the stuffed headrest aside and turned his head to grin at her. She arched her eyebrows at him.

“I think I will, Mr. MacTavish. I feel quite spent,” she said with a feigned sigh of exhaustion. “Won’t you join me?”

Patience deliberately allowed the sheets to fall to her waist as she smiled sweetly at him. The newspaper in his hand fell carelessly onto the table as desire swept across his face. A wicked smile curved his sensual lips, while his hot gaze caressed her until her entire body ached for him to touch her. His smile widened, obviously aware of her arousal, before regret swept across his face. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“I can think of nothing that would give me greater pleasure, mo ghràdh. But if I come back to bed I’ll not leave it for the rest of the day.” Julian’s eyes darkened. “And as much as I would love pleasuring you until you truly are spent from my touch, I must meet with Lord Mayberry this morning.”

“I thought you said your meeting with him was tomorrow afternoon,” she said with a surprised frown. For a brief instant, she could have sworn Julian looked guilty before he smiled and shook his head.

“Did I? I obviously confused my dates,” he said with a sinful twist of his lips. “But how can I be faulted for forgetting the order of my appointments when my wife bewitches me so.”

“If I’m so bewitching, how are you able to resist me now?” she teased as she crawled out of bed and moved toward him. She smiled at the desire in her husband’s eyes as his gaze roamed over her naked body.

“God help me, Patience. You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered as she sat down in his lap.

One arm wrapped around his neck, she ran her hand across his shirt and bent her head to kiss his cheek. His hand warmed her skin as he lifted her bare breast to suckle her. A soft mewl escaped her lips, and she arched backward, enjoying the delightful sensation of his mouth tugging on her gently. With one last nip at the tip of her, he pulled her head down and kissed her hard. Then in an authoritative move he set her back on her feet, turned her around, and swatted her bottom.

“Either get dressed or get back in bed. You’re far too distracting, and it’s not just Lord Mayberry I have to meet,” he growled with frustrated affection. “I have several matters of business to attend to for my father as well.”

“All right,” she said with disappointment. “I have correspondence I’ve neglected for the past three days. When that’s finished, I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time while you complete whatever business you need to complete for your father.”

Patience circled the bed to pick her night robe up off the floor. The mere mention or thought of her father-in-law always put a damper on her mood. No matter how often Julian reassured her that his father wouldn’t come between them, it didn’t make her father-in-law’s contempt for her any easier to bear. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of her robe biting her lower lip.

The last time she’d seen Fergus MacTavish, Laird of Crianlarich, had been shortly after she and Julian were married. The Crianlarich had made her stay so unpleasant she’d vowed not to go back. Although Julian had shielded her whenever he could, it had not stopped his father’s vicious taunts and insults when they were out of Julian’s hearing.

Not even the occasional presence of Julian’s younger sister, Muireall, had provided any real buffer from the Crianlarich’s acerbic tongue. Patience’s fingers fumbled with the sash of her robe at the painful memory. A strong hand gripped her shoulder as Julian forced her to turn around.

“I’ve told you before, Patience. My father will never come between us.” Reassurance reverberated in his voice as he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her gently. “I married you because I love you.”

“He might not come between us, but I’ll never come close to having his approval if I don’t give him a grandson. Your heir,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the soft, lightweight wool of his jacket.

“I told you the other night that it takes time, mo leannan.”

“How much time?” She pulled away from him as tears welled in her eyes. “How long before you believe what I already know? I’ve fulfilled your father’s prediction. I’m an Englishwoman who will never give you a son.”

“That’s enough, Patience.” Anger darkened Julian’s face as he eyed her sternly. “A son—or daughter for that matter—was never a condition of my marrying you.”

“But you can’t say you’re not disappointed.”

“Can you?” he asked gently. “I know you want to give me a son, mo ghràdh, but if it doesn’t happen, I’ll not stop loving you.”

Patience leaned into him again, and Julian engulfed her in his embrace. Even though she might be barren, he still loved her. The realization eased some of her heartache, but not completely. She longed to have Julian’s child.

“I must go, mo leannan,” Julian said with a tender kiss. “I can no’ miss my meeting with Lord Mayberry about the land values tax, and if I stay here with you I’ll most definitely no’ be meeting with the man.”

“Go, I’m sure you’ll be as persuasive with his lordship as you always are with me.”

Patience smoothed the lapels of his jacket, her fingers brushing across the Clan MacTavish brooch his mother had given him as a child. Her husband was far from a vain man, but the jewelry was one of his most cherished belongings, and he wore it always.

With one last kiss, Julian strode from the room. Listlessly, she moved to the breakfast table to scrape butter on a piece of toast. Patience took a bite, and hoping for one last look at Julian, she parted the window curtains slightly and looked down at the street. A hackney pulled up to the sidewalk just as Julian reached the bottom of the front steps.

About to let the sheer material fall back into place, Patience froze as she saw a woman lean forward to extend her hand to Julian. Fiery auburn hair and a creamy complexion highlighted the woman’s beautiful face. Una Bensmore. She’d met the woman during her first and only stay at Crianlarich Castle.

The Scotswoman was a childhood friend who the Crianlarich had made clear was the bride he’d hand-picked for Julian. The woman’s flirtations with Julian had been just as upsetting as her father-in-law continuing to point out Patience’s inadequacies whenever possible. Why was Una in London, and why here at their house? Her attention swiftly jerked back to Julian who nodded at something the woman said.

The instant she saw Julian start to look upward, Patience dropped the curtain and drew away from the window. When she believed it safe, she peeked through the slit in the curtains again. She regretted doing so as she watched Julian climb into the two-seat cab with Una. Worse, she saw the woman looking up at her with a smile that reminded Patience of a cat who’d stolen cream from the pantry.

Patience immediately dropped the window curtain as jealousy reared its head. Why hadn’t Julian mentioned he would be seeing Una this morning? It was a rhetorical question. He’d most likely chosen to remain silent so as to not upset her. No doubt he’d remembered the fight they’d had about the woman during Patience’s one and only stay at Crianlarich Castle. They’d been married only two weeks before Julian had taken her home to meet his family. Except for the raw passion that existed between them, they’d known little about each other. Their short courtship meant misunderstandings had been inevitable. She flinched at the memory of the dinner party her father-in-law had arranged.

When Robert Bensmore and his daughters had arrived at the castle, Fergus MacTavish had spent the night subtly pointing out Una’s exceptional qualities whenever Julian was out of earshot. It didn’t help matters that Una had the face of an angel. The woman had captivated Julian the entire evening. It had been the most painful thing Patience had ever experienced, and she was grateful when she was able to say goodnight. She’d barely been in her room more than a few minutes when Julian had come in with a frown on his face.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” she said coolly.

“You barely spoke to anyone during the meal,” he said with a frown. “Even Una mentioned it when saying good night.”

“I find it difficult to believe the woman even realized I was in the room,” Patience said without any trace of the bitterness that was eating away at her insides.

She was grateful for her ability to respond in a calm, even tone of voice when what she wanted to do was scream at him. Not bothering to look in Julian’s direction she sat down at the dressing table and undid her hair to brush it. Julian came to stand behind her and touched the side of her neck.

“There’s no need to be jealous, mo leannan.”

His soft laugh infuriated her. The man had no idea what it had been like to watch Una fawn over him, all the while sending her the occasional gloating look. Patience looked up at him, and his amused expression made her spring to her feet as anger flowed hot and fast through her veins. Patience’s movement was so fast it sent the dressing table bench toppling to the floor and caused Julian to stare at her in stunned surprise. She glared at him.

“Do not laugh at me,” she bit out fiercely. Julian’s gaze narrowed.

“I am no’ laughing at you, Patience.” His body was stiff with resentment as his brogue thickened with irritation.

“You are,” she said in a tight voice. “Do you think I don’t know why your father asked the Bensmores to come this evening?”

“The Bensmores are family friends.” Julian shook his head with exasperation. “Caitriona, Una, and I played together as children. My father has them for dinner quite often.”

“She isn’t just a family friend. She’s the woman your father chose to be your bride.”

“It does no’ matter what my father wished. You’re the one I married,” Julian said angrily. “Una has never been anything more than a close family friend.”

“Close friend?” she sneered and glared at him for being so obtuse where the other woman was concerned. “From Miss Bensmore’s manner tonight, I would have supposed your relationship much more intimate.”

“You go too far, Patience.” Fury made his voice hard and flat.

“Do I? The woman made it quite obvious you had only to ask and she would slip into your bed,” she bit out as fear and suspicion became an insidious vine snaking its way through her.

“You do no’ have much faith in your husband’s love, Lady Patience.” The formal address stung. He’d never spoken to her like this before. His expression was grim, and she saw the flicker of painful disappointment in his dark eyes.

“No more than you have in me when I point out the obvious,” she snapped as she fought to keep the tears out of her voice. She turned away from Julian and moved toward the bed, but he followed her, the heat of him warming her back. His fingers trailed a light path across her shoulder.

“I love you, Patience. I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“That is the crux of the problem,” she bit out as she whirled around to face him. “We barely know each other.”

Patience shook her head. How could she make Julian understand how painful the evening had been for her—how inadequate she felt, even now when she was with him? Throughout the night his father had quietly pointed out Una’s qualities to Patience. Virtues, the man had made clear, she lacked.

Julian and Una shared a common past, and the woman didn’t have an ounce of English blood. The woman had flirted openly with Julian and ignored Patience. Something the Crianlarich had encouraged by having Una share tales of when she and Julian were children. Patience had been the only one excluded from the stories Una had regaled everyone with this evening.

Even Julian’s younger sister Muireall had heard of Julian’s and Una’s escapades before tonight. This evening’s dinner party had illustrated just how out of place and unwelcome Patience was at Crianlarich Castle. Worst of all, it made her believe the old adage of marrying in haste only to repent at leisure was true in their case. They barely knew anything about each other.

“We have the rest of our lives to learn about each other, mo ghràdh,” he said with quiet reassurance.

“But she already knows all about you. She knows your past. I don’t. Una Bensmore knows what makes you happy. I saw that tonight when you laughed at almost everything she said,” Patience said as her voice quavered. “I understand now what your father meant when he said I’m unworthy to bear the MacTavish name.”

“Unworthy—I do no’ give a damn what my father says,” Julian snarled as he closed the distance between. His large hands tenderly cupped her face. “You are more than worthy of bearing my name, Patience. You have Stewart blood in you, and do no’ forget that. But the only thing that really matters is that you make me happy simply by the fact that you chose me.”

Patience was abruptly jerked back into the present by the quiet knock on the bedroom door. Maggie, her maid, entered the room when Patience called out for the servant to enter. Patience forced a smile to her lips, and gestured toward the tray.

“I’m done with breakfast, Maggie.”

“Yes, my lady.” The maid picked up the tray then turned toward her. “Shall I come back to help you dress, Lady Patience?”

“No, I can manage. Thank you,” Patience said in a distracted voice.

She barely heard the maid leave the room. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Una staring up at her with a triumphant expression on her face. Until this moment, Patience had not realized how insecure her father-in-law’s vicious insinuations had made her feel about her marriage. Inwardly, she’d told herself to dismiss the man’s cruel words. She’d worked hard to forget the innuendos the laird had levied in her direction. She found it hard to believe the man she loved had married her simply to spite Fergus and defy the laird’s demand that Julian make Una Bensmore the next lady of Crianlarich Castle. But it was now clear how much damage the man’s words had done. The Crianlarich had cultivated doubt in her where her husband was concerned.

“You’re worried about nothing, Patience MacTavish,” she said to an empty room. “Julian told you the woman was nothing more than a friend.”

An insidious voice in her head reminded her that Julian had made no mention of a meeting with Una.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Patience asserted with false confidence to the empty room. “He knows how much it would upset you. And the last thing the man wants is another argument like the one you had at Crianlarich Castle.”

“Yes, but what about his appointment with Lord Mayberry? He did look somewhat guilty when you questioned him, don’t you think?” replied a surreptitious voice in the back of her head.

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” she snapped as she sat down at the dressing table and glared at her reflection. “When Julian comes home, you’ll simply ask him why Una had met him at their front door and why he’d gone with her in the cab.”

A short while later she was seated at her secretaire working on her correspondence. As she worked her way through the stack of letters and invitations, she saw one from Louisa. Eagerly, she opened her sister’s letter and read the short note. It was an invitation for them to join the family at Westbrook Farms at the end of the week for a family celebration of Constance and Lucien’s engagement.

Julian and she always enjoyed the Rockwood family gatherings, and in a brief note, she accepted her youngest sister’s invitation. Finished with her correspondence, she decided the spring weather was lovely enough to spend the afternoon reading in the park.

Book in hand she made her way to Hyde Park. A number of acquaintances were enjoying the spring day like her, which were pleasant interruptions to her reading. It was late in the afternoon when she decided to return home. She closed her book and looked up to see Lord Mayberry heading her way.

With a smile, she rose from her bench and walked along the park’s graveled path toward the elderly gentleman. As they reached each other, he bowed in her direction.

“Good afternoon, Lady Patience,” he said with a jovial smile. “I see I’m not the only one enjoying the late afternoon warmth of this delightful spring day.”

“It is lovely out isn’t it,” she said with a laugh. “I’m certain you’re happy to be outdoors after a long day of parliamentary matters.”

“Indeed. It has been a most contentious day.” Mayberry winced as if remembering something unpleasant.

“Well, I do hope Julian wasn’t one of the more argumentative moments of your day. My husband can be quite passionate about things that are important to him.”

“MacTavish? Was I supposed to meet with your husband today, Lady Patience? I know we met this past Thursday to discuss the land value tax, but I don’t believe we had an appointment for today.” Mayberry’s startled response made her heart slam into her chest with fear.

Julian had met with Lord Mayberry last week. Two days before he’d returned home to her. He’d lied to her. He’d lied about meeting with Lord Mayberry today, and he’d said nothing about returning to town this past Thursday. Of course, he’d never said he’d arrived on Saturday either. She’d simply assumed he’d returned from Crianlarich that afternoon and met her at Marlborough House for the royal couple’s annual ball. But he’d not bothered to mention it to her either.

Why would he lie? The memory of Julian climbing into Una’s hackney cab earlier in the day had never been far out of her thoughts. Now Lord Mayberry’s words had renewed the fears she’d managed to dismiss this morning. Her gaze met the elderly gentleman’s puzzled look and she realized she’d been silent far too long.

“I must have misunderstood Julian. I thought he’d said something about meeting with you today,” she said quietly as her throat threatened to swell shut.

“I don’t recall our discussing the need for another meeting when we met last Thursday, or was it Friday?” the man mused more to himself than Patience. The frown wrinkling his brow suddenly vanished to reflect confidence. “No, it was Thursday as it was the afternoon I met with Her Majesty’s cabinet.”

“Perhaps he simply meant to come by your office to make another appointment,” she said quietly. Lord Mayberry’s conviction that he’d met with Julian on Thursday confused and alarmed her. It also heightened her fears about Julian climbing into Una’s hackney cab.

“Are you on your way home?” Lord Mayberry asked.

“Yes, Julian and I are to have dinner with the Dumbartons this evening.”

“Twilight will be upon us shortly, perhaps I should walk you home,” Lord Mayberry said with a note of concern in his voice. “I would hate for something untoward to happen to you.”

“Oh no, that’s quite all right, our house is only a few minutes away,” Patience said quickly. The prospect of having polite conversation with anyone at the moment made her head ache. She forced a smile. “But thank you all the same.”

“All right then. If you’re certain,” the man said with obvious reluctance. Patience patted his arm in a reassuring manner.

“I promise you, I shall be fine.”

Her response made the concern on his face ease somewhat, and with a smile, he squeezed her hand. The man was about the age her own father would have been if he were alive, and Lord Mayberry’s fatherly manner was endearing.

“Very well,” he said. “Tell MacTavish that I look forward to seeing him soon.”

“I shall do that,” she said with a nod as she turned away and headed for home.

With each step she took, she tried hard to dismiss the thought that Julian might have lied to her about his meeting with Lord Mayberry. But the man’s certainty that he and Julian had met on Thursday and not today increased her fears. Then there was the fact she’d not seen Julian until Saturday evening. Where had he been all that time? An image of Julian stepping into a small hackney cab with Una filled her head. She bit down on her lower lip as she quickly closed the door on the ominous direction of her thoughts.

There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything. She simply needed to trust Julian. The idea was good in principle, but her emotions still made it difficult to keep her mind from running amok with the worst of all possibilities. Patience arrived home eager to have Julian set her mind at ease. Their butler, Hobbs, met her at the door, as if he’d been expecting her.

“Has Mr. MacTavish returned?” She removed her hat and glanced at the man.

“No, my lady,” the butler said with a shake of his head. “But a letter arrived for you a short time ago, and it appears to be Mr. MacTavish’s handwriting. I placed it on your secretaire.”

“Thank you, Hobbs.”

Heart pounding wildly in her chest, Patience hurried into the small salon and retrieved the letter. The parchment crackled softly as she pulled the note out of the envelope.

Mo ghràdh,

Forgive me, mo leannan, but my father’s business has run longer than I expected. I shall not be home in time to accompany you to the Dumbartons party. Go without me, and I will see you when you return. I miss you mo ghràdh. I will be home as soon as possible.

Your loving husband,

Julian

The paper crackled as her fingers crumpled the note. The sudden image of Una Bensmore sent a wave of fear crashing over her. The invisible force of emotion dragged her downward until she was certain she was drowning. Was she losing Julian? She swiftly crushed the thought.

Julian loved her. He’d said so numerous times over the past few days. Patience smoothed out Julian’s note to read it again. None of the words had changed. There had to be an explanation, and only Julian could answer her questions. Suddenly, the idea of going out for the evening was far from palatable.

She wrote a quick note to the Dumbartons that she was unwell and that Julian had refused to leave her side. The thought was laughable when he was supposedly attending to his father’s business affairs. The fact that she was questioning even his note made her chest tighten. The Crianlarich would be pleased to know how much doubt his words had instilled in her.

Mrs. Smathers prepared a roast chicken for her dinner, but she was too heartsick to eat. On the fireplace mantel, the clock chimed one hour after another, until she was growing frantic with worry. At ten o’clock, another note from Julian arrived. This one stated the meeting he was in was at a critical stage and would run into the early morning hours. When he finished he would sleep at the club as he didn’t wish to disturb her by coming in so late. Although she was relieved he wasn’t the victim of thieves, lying in a gutter somewhere, she found herself questioning every word in the note. Was he lying to her?

Eyes closed to hold back her tears, she didn’t want to believe all the horrible thoughts racing to confront her. All she could think about was the memory of Una’s smug expression as she’d looked up at Patience from the cab this morning.

Lethargically, Patience slipped into the cold, lonely bed. The tears she’d been holding back all day began to flow, and she sobbed herself to sleep. It was a fitful sleep, and she woke up several times during the night until she finally rose at the first light of dawn. When Maggie arrived with her breakfast, surprise filled her expression.

“You’re up bright and early, my lady.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” she said quietly as she picked up the newspaper off the breakfast tray.

“He’ll be home soon, my lady. I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you Maggie.” She dismissed the maid with a small smile.

Patience poured herself a cup of tea then pushed aside the plate of eggs and bacon Maggie had brought up to her. She had no appetite at all. The society pages rustled in her hands as she skimmed the gossip columns. Reading the columns was a vice, but it usually afforded her a laugh at the ridiculous antics of people. As she read the column, a small paragraph caught her eye, and she stiffened.

A certain Scotsman was seen in the company of an auburn-haired beauty not his wife or sister on Maple Street looking at houses. Has the man decided to take a mistress? We wonder what Lady P would say?

For a moment, Patience remained frozen in her seat as the newsprint fell from her fingers. He was looking for a house with Una. And she was certain it was Una. It had to be. Bile rose in her throat. Men did not look at houses unless they were with a wife—or mistress.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patience MacTavish. You know quite well how gossip can change the most innocent of events into something far more ugly,” she muttered as she rose to her feet and proceeded to dress for the day.

Patience spent most of the day lethargically going about her daily routine. It kept her occupied until later in the afternoon when she was in the salon. She was hopelessly attempting to repair the needlepoint on a chair cover when she heard voices at the front door. Setting aside her botched embroidery, she rose to her feet as Hobbs announced Una Bensmore. Patience barely had time to recover from her amazement as the woman sailed into the room. Hands clasped in front of her, Patience met the woman’s calculating gaze with what she hoped was an expression of detached serenity.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bensmore,” Patience greeted the woman politely.

“I’m here to see Julian,” the woman said in a musical brogue which was as beautiful as her face.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not here at the moment,” Patience said with a forced smile. “Would you care to leave a message?”

“No, it can wait,” Una said as she stared at Patience with a crafty expression on her face. “You were surprised to see me yesterday morning.”

The direct confrontation made Patience flinch, but she managed to maintain her composure. With a shrug she frowned as if confused by the woman’s statement.

“You’re a friend of Julian’s. Why would I be surprised?” she lied.

“This is true, but I would have thought this morning’s society page would have explained why I was with Julian yesterday.”

Panic careened through Patience. Was the woman actually confirming the gossip? Had Julian really taken Una house hunting yesterday? If that was true there was only one conclusion she could draw from the knowledge. She immediately rejected the idea. Julian wouldn’t take a mistress. Desperately she fought back the growing fear inside her and struggled not to let the other woman see it.

“My husband is a thoughtful man, and always willing to help his friends. I hope you manage to find something to your liking.”

“Aye, I did, but then Julian is, as you say, a thoughtful mon, but I think you already know Julian and I are much more than friends.” The woman’s sly expression made Patience swallow hard as fear snaked through her. An artful smile curved Una’s lovely mouth. “Do you no’ wonder why he came back to town early without telling you or why he didn’t come home to you last night?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she lied. “Julian sent me a note saying he’d been detained on business.”

“As you know we were childhood sweethearts. The Crianlarich and I believed Julian would marry me, but he did no’,” Una said as loathing twisted her lovely features in an ugly mask. “He married an Englishwoman. No’ a Scotswoman.”

“I might have English blood, but I have Stewart blood too. Royal blood,” Patience bit out with fierce pride. “And I didn’t steal Julian away from anyone.”

Patience shook her head as she remembered Julian’s whirlwind courtship. She had come to accept the fact that every man who’d ever courted her had eventually left without making an offer. The last thing she’d expected when she’d been perfectly happy sitting on the shelf had been a romance with a Scotsman whose voice was sin itself. A man whose kisses made her melt. But it also pointed out once again how little she knew of her husband.

“Does no’ matter. I’ve stolen him away from you. Tis my bed he sleeps in now,” Una said with a smile that reminded Patience of a beautiful rose full of thorns dipped in poison.

“Why should I believe you?” Patience said with what she hoped was a look of annoyed disbelief. The woman had to be lying. Julian would never betray her.

“Because I can prove Julian was in my bed.” The confidence in the woman’s voice sent a shiver of fear through Patience.

“And how do you propose to do that?” she scoffed.

“Because I know about his birthmark.” Una’s words sent ice sluicing through Patience’s veins.

“Birthmark?” she whispered as the image of the birthmark on Julian’s left hip flitted through her head.

“Aye,” Una said with a malicious smile. “Tis a reddish mark that looks like a bird in flight.”

It was as if the woman had ripped Patience’s heart out of her chest. Only a woman who’d shared Julian’s bed would know about his birthmark. In shock, Patience jumped slightly as the other woman extended her hand.

“I also have the brooch his mother gave him. I thought you might need further proof that I have convinced Julian we belong together.”

“His brooch?” Patience said hoarsely as her disorientation forced her to grasp the back of the chair at her side.

“Aye, he left it behind last night, when…”

“When he spent the night with you,” Patience choked out despite the knot threatening to close her throat shut.

“Aye.”

The woman’s mouth slowly curved in a smug, satisfied smile as she pulled something from her purse. She extended her hand and offered the large, round pin to Patience. Her hand shook as she reached for the silver piece of jewelry bearing the familiar crest of the MacTavish clan. Julian’s mother had given him the brooch just before she’d died. He’d only been seven at the time, and he cherished the large pin, always wearing it on his shoulder whether he was wearing his fly plaid or not. It was not something he would easily lose.

As her fingers brushed against the other woman’s, Patience sucked in a sharp breath at the image that flashed in front of her eyes. Una holding a baby. A split second later, the vision changed to the familiar images of spinning carriage wheels and the out of control blaze that surrounded her.

The chaotic imagery lasted only a few seconds, but it made Patience even more unsteady on her feet. She swayed slightly, and her fingers dug into the chair’s cushion. Her gaze met the woman’s startled expression.

“You have the an dara sealladh,” the woman breathed, her voice filled with awe before the woman paled and an uneasy look swept across her face.

“Leave, and don’t ever come back here again,” Patience said in a cold, flat voice. “If you do, I’ll have the magistrate order your arrest for threatening me.”

“You would no’ dare,” Una said with a swaggering look of contempt. “Julian will no’ let you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Patience said as a sudden rage swept through her. Steadied by an anger unlike any she’d ever known, she stepped toward the other woman keeping her voice low and intimidating. “If there’s one thing a Rockwood never refuses, it’s a challenge. Now leave.”

Fear crossed Una’s face as Patience pointed toward the salon door. With an abrupt nod, the other woman headed toward the exit. As she reached the doorway, Una looked over her shoulder with a sneer curling her lips.

“And you should remember this, my lady. If there’s one thing I can give Julian that you can no’, tis an heir.”

Patience drew in a sharp breath as the image of Una and her child filled her head again. The moment the woman was gone, Patience staggered to the couch to collapse into it with a soft sob. The pain ripping through her was almost unbearable. How could Julian have said he loved her then betray her in such a deplorable manner?

No, how could she believe Una? Julian had told her that he loved her. Just yesterday morning, he’d made love to her with all the passion she felt for him. She couldn’t believe he could be so loving with her only to enter another woman’s bed. She trembled as she remembered the passion and tenderness of their lovemaking over the past several days since his return from Scotland. The man had barely allowed her to leave his sight. Had those moments been nothing but a dream—a drama played out by him and for what purpose? None of it made sense, and yet all the pieces connected to form a picture of betrayal.

Confused, hurt, and desperate not to believe Una’s cruel words, Patience stared down at Julian’s brooch as tears slid down her cheeks. The disappearance of his brooch might have been easy to dismiss. It could have fallen off in the cab. Una could have found it and Julian would be none the wiser. But the most damning evidence of all was Una’s knowledge about Julian’s birthmark. How else could she have known about it unless she’d seen Julian undressed?

The knowledge taunted Patience with a horrifying intensity that threatened to bring her to her knees. She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She was a Rockwood. Slowly, she wiped the tears off her face and stood up.

Patience listlessly walked around the room trying to reject the evidence Una had shared. She drew in a sharp breath at the memory of her vision. The woman had said she could give Julian a child. The fact that she and Julian were childless was a terrible source of pain to them both. Had he betrayed her because he wanted a son?

Although he’d consistently brushed aside his need for an heir, she found it hard to believe he wasn’t disappointed she’d failed to have a child. Nausea gripped her insides. His lie about his appointment with Mayberry and his failure to tell her that he’d returned to town early, yet hadn’t come home, was damning enough. She sent up a fervent prayer that somehow Julian would have a rational explanation for everything.

She had no idea how long she’d been standing at the window attempting to sort things out when she jumped at the sound of Julian’s voice in the hallway. Patience froze at the window as a sense of impending doom made her mouth go dry. She loved him so much, and yet she knew she would never be able to live with him if he really had betrayed her. But she refused to find him guilty without hearing what he had to say. She could only hope his explanation would destroy the doubt stirred to life by his father’s cruel insinuations, Una’s claims of Julian’s infidelity, and the lies her husband had told.

Chapter 3

Julian walked slowly along the sidewalk leading home. The sun would be setting soon, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. He’d missed falling asleep with Patience in his arms last night, but tonight would be different. With a grimace, he remembered where he’d spent the last thirty-six hours. If it hadn’t been for Una yesterday morning, he would never have found Caitriona on his own, nor would he have uncovered the truth of her situation.

Of all the people to send for, Caitriona had written to her sister. The two women had never been close, but Una had surprised him in her efforts to care for her older sister. Bensmore’s youngest daughter was as spoiled as she was beautiful. The woman had always been self-centered and overshadowed her older sister at every turn. But at least Caitriona had sent for someone. The young woman had left Bensmore Farms five months ago, saying she intended to stay with friends in Edinburgh.

When Bensmore didn’t hear from her, he’d gone to Edinburgh in search of his daughter. He’d returned home a broken man. After more than a month of searching Bensmore had not found any leads as to Caitriona’s whereabouts. It was at that point that the Crianlarich had decided Julian was to lead a new search for his old friend. For almost the past two months, Julian had been searching Edinburgh and the Highlands for Caitriona.

His efforts had led him to London late last week where he followed up on two separate leads. Unwilling to worry Patience or explain his late-night visits to the seedier parts of town, he’d quietly taken up residence in a small hotel. Julian had found it odd that his father was so adamant about sparing no expense in the search for Caitriona.

Now he understood why, and the reason behind his father’s insistence that Julian find Caitriona disgusted him. A noise of outrage bellowed softly out of him. His father had a great deal to answer for when it came to Caitriona’s downfall. The memory of walking into the slums where she’d been living had horrified him. Worse, she’d been in the beginning stages of labor when he’d arrived.

It had taken all of yesterday morning to find a competent doctor of discretion as well as a new home for her and her child. They’d moved Caitriona into the house Julian had rented shortly after her labor had begun to intensify. Julian was certain the move had made Caitriona’s labor more difficult despite the doctor’s reassurances that moving her would do no harm.

She’d died little more than two hours ago leaving her son in his care. The memory of her wan features and final confession struck deep at the very core of him. In hindsight, he realized he should never have sworn an oath not to reveal Caitriona’s secret. It was bad enough his father had extracted an oath of silence from him about his search for Caitriona. The thought of keeping anything else from Patience troubled him, especially when it was a confession that would impact them both in the future.

He grimaced. Una had disappeared shortly after Caitriona’s death. He’d assumed she wanted to grieve in solitude and left him to make funeral arrangements. He understood why Caitriona had entrusted the boy’s care to him. Una was far too irresponsible to be the child’s guardian. It didn’t matter because Una had already declared she had no intention of taking the child home with her. At least the wet nurse the doctor had found had agreed to care for Caitriona’s son until he could make other arrangements.

Wearily, he climbed the steps of the house and walked through the front door. Hobbs appeared from the back of the hall as Julian dropped his hat on the half-moon table pressed against the wall of the entryway.

“Hello, Hobbs,” he said quietly. “Is Mrs. MacTavish in?”

“Yes, sir,” the butler gestured toward the salon. “I believe she’s reading.”

“Thank you.”

Julian frowned at the other man’s observation. There was at least another two hours of sunshine left and it was still beautiful outside. He knew Patience loved to read in the park when the weather was like today. For her to be inside meant something was wrong. He opened the door to the salon to see Patience standing at the window.

Every time he looked at her, he remembered the first time he’d seen her. The sound of her laughter had lured him to her. But it had been the golden warmth in her beautiful brown eyes and the touch of her hand in his that had sealed his fate where she was concerned.

His father was wrong. Patience was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It didn’t matter that they had no children. All that mattered was that she was his to love. If he ever lost her, it would destroy him. As she turned to face him, Julian’s body hardened with tension. She looked as if there had been a death in the family.

The loss of her sister-in-law in childbirth last year had been difficult for the entire Rockwood clan, but Patience had been extremely fond of Georgina. It had been almost as devastating for her as it had been for her brother, Caleb. Now as he stared at her pale, stoic expression, he feared the worst.

“What is it, mo ghràdh? What’s happened?”

“Where have you been?” she asked hoarsely. The question caught him off guard, and he stared at her in surprise as his insides twisted with guilt.

“I sent a note explaining where I was. Did you no’ receive it?” The fact that he was skirting her question with misdirection made him uncomfortable, but there was little he could do about it without breaking his oath of silence to Caitriona.

“I received it,” she said in a flat voice.

“Will you forgive me, mo leannan?” Wearily, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did your business with Lord Mayberry go well?” The quiet question set off a warning bell in his head. He frowned as he met her cold gaze. Never in the entire time they’d known each other had she ever looked at him like that. It was almost a look of contempt. She looked back out the window.

“Aye,” he said as another twinge of guilt lashed at him for lying to her. “You were right about my appointment with Mayberry. It was this afternoon.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gently rubbed his eyelids. He should have risked telling her the truth and made her worry as opposed to lying to her over the past two days ago. If he’d simply told her business had brought him to London last week and he’d met with Mayberry then things would be less complicated. Instead, he was lying about Mayberry now. Damn his father for putting him in such a difficult position. No, he’d done that all by himself when he’d failed to trust his wife.

“So you saw him today,” her voice was strained, and he frowned at the pain he saw flickering in her beautiful brown eyes.

“No, my father’s business was no’ complete until just a short time ago.” He drew in a deep breath of sadness as he remembered Caitriona’s hopeless struggle to live.

“And was Una Bensmore part of that business?” she asked in a tight voice. The unexpected question made him stiffen in surprise as he stared at her in amazement.

“Why would you ask such a thing?” He shook his head slightly as a sense of foreboding streaked through him at the frosty glare Patience cast in his direction.

“Because of this,” she said fiercely as she thrust her hand outward and opened her fist. Fear snaked through him the moment he saw the blood pooling in her palm.

“Christ almighty, Patience,” he bit out. “What the hell have you done to your hand?”

Obviously surprised by his harsh response, she shifted her gaze downward. A puzzled look crossed her pale features as she stared at her bloodied hand. Julian strode forward.

“It’s your brooch,” she murmured in a strained voice.

“I can see that,” he growled as he took the jewelry from her hand to drop it on the table. Julian snatched a napkin off her lunch tray. It made a loud crack, as he snapped it open and proceeded to dab at the blood on her palm. “What the devil were you thinking, holding it like that?”

The blood that had made her injury look so severe was the result of several deep pricks to her palm. The amount of blood had made it look far worse than it really was. It would give her slight discomfort for a few days, but she would heal easily. As he cleaned the blood from her hand, he looked at her in a silent demand for an explanation.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she said woodenly. The dispassionate response made him shake his head as he tried to comprehend how his brooch had come to be in her possession to begin with.

“Where did you find this? I thought I’d lost it.”

Relief that she was unharmed mixed with gratitude that he’d recovered the brooch. He would have mourned its loss. His mother had given it to him on his seventh birthday a few months before she’d become sick and died. The last time he’d seen it had been yesterday morning on his coat. It must have fallen off on his way out the door. A second later, he looked into Patience’s eyes, and an icy blast of fear chilled him to the bone. Her face was pale and her expression devoid of emotion. Normally he could tell what she was thinking, but she’d closed herself off to him. Julian frowned at the flicker of emotion darkening her soft, brown eyes. What the hell had happened while he’d been gone.

“Una Bensmore delivered your brooch in person,” Patience’s voice was the sound of glass shattering. With a quick, vicious tug of her hand, she jerked free of his grasp. Bone tired it took Julian several seconds to comprehend her words.

“Una? She was here?” He frowned in bewilderment.

“Is she your mistress?” The question blindsided him.

“My mis—God in heaven, Patience. I do no’ have a mistress.”

Bloody hell, what would make her think he was involved with Una? His gut twisted like a hung man hanging in the wind. Una had always been one to make mischief, but heaven help him if the woman had been malevolent enough to suggest she was his mistress

He’d have Una’s head for making Patience think he’d been unfaithful. Caitriona’s sister had been nothing but trouble since the day she turned seventeen and Fergus MacTavish had planted the idea in her head that she’d one day be the lady of Crianlarich Castle. She’d been trying to seduce Julian ever since. Despite denying his involvement with Una, he saw the look of disbelief on Patience’s face.

“Then why did you ride off in a hansom cab with her yesterday morning, and why were you seen house hunting with her?”

“How in the hell do you know about that?” he exclaimed without thinking how it might sound. Sweet mother of God, exactly what had Una told Patience? She’d had all night to think the worst of him if she’d seen him ride off with Una. He wanted to bang his head against the wall out of frustration for being such a thick-headed dolt.

“Anyone who reads the society page knows about it by now. But it still doesn’t explain why you were looking for a house with the woman you say isn’t your mistress.” Each word she spoke crackled with anger and humiliation. Christ Jesus, everyone they knew, including her family, would think the worst. But all he cared about was what Patience believed. His sluggish brain tried to frame an answer without betraying his oath to Caitriona.

“Tis difficult to explain, mo ghràdh,” he muttered. He saw Patience wince, and he took a step forward only to see her recoil from him. Her retreat cut through him like a knife.

“It’s not difficult at all Julian. Either you did or didn’t go house hunting with the woman.” Her voice made the same sound icicles made when they snapped free of a tree limb.

“I did,” he growled. “But tis no’ what it looks like, Patience.”

“What is it supposed to look like?” The question was delivered with a cold, detached bluntness that made him feel as though she’d kicked him. “You took the woman house hunting, and you were with her last night.”

How in God’s name was he supposed to explain he’d been with Una looking at houses for her sister? The mere fact that Una was in the same room as Caitriona’s labor progressed made it impossible to deny being with the woman. Worse, it meant betraying Caitriona’s confidence if he explained why Una had been with him last night as they waited for her sister to give birth.

“I give you my word, Patience. I was not with Una last night,” he said quietly and firmly. It was the truth as far as sharing the woman’s bed, but the white lie still didn’t sit well with him. For a fleeting second he thought he saw hope soften her features before her expression hardened with distrust.

“Then tell me where you were.” Patience demanded sharply. Julian shoved a hand through his dark hair.

“Tis difficult to explain,” he muttered. His words made Patience wince, and he took a step forward only to see her retreat from him once more. A vise wrapped around his chest the moment she drew back.

“Then explain about your meeting with Lord Mayberry,” she said softly. Something in her voice said he was treading treacherous waters.

“I told you, I did no’ meet with Mayberry—”

“Liar.” The sharp accusation made him freeze as he stared at the cold rage in his wife’s eyes. He tilted his head slightly to study her warily.

“I am no’ a liar, Patience,” he said quietly knowing full well he was exactly what she’d called him. “I did no’ meet with Lord Mayberry yesterday or today.”

“But you did meet with him, didn’t you?”

“I’ve already answered the question,” he snapped.

“I saw Lord Mayberry yesterday, and he said you met last Thursday.”

Patience’s words crackled like ice breaking beneath his feet. She knew he’d come back to London without coming home. It only made him look all the more guilty. Julian was a man drowning as he stared at her. It was obvious she’d already formed an opinion, and it wasn’t good. His tired brain didn’t respond quick enough with an explanation, and her mouth thinned into a tight line of anger.

“You were in London for two days before you came home, Julian. Where were you?”

“Bloody hell, tis no’ what it looks like, Patience.” He shoved both hands through his hair. His head was starting to hurt as if he’d just awoken from a night of drinking.

“What is it supposed to look like Julian?” she glared at him with a cold disdain that ignited an angry frustration inside him. Julian intended to wring Una’s neck for upsetting Patience and making his wife doubt his love for her.

“You don’t deny you were with her,” she sneered. “So, I’ll ask you again. Is she your mistress?”

“Damn it, Una is no’ my lover,” he bit out. It was as if he were a large fish caught in a fisherman’s net and the more he tried to escape the tighter the net encircled him.

“The woman knew about your birthmark, Julian,” she said quietly. There was a note of deep pain in her voice that belied the contempt on her face. “How could Miss Bensmore know about the mark unless you’ve shared her bed?”

Stunned, Julian stared at her as if he were dull-witted while his brain whirred with a dozen questions all at the same time. He fought through them to the one that seemed the most important. How had Una known about his birthmark when he’d never slept with her? Patience was right. The only way someone could know about his mark was if they saw him naked, and he knew he’d never been naked in Una’s presence. Worse, if he couldn’t make Patience listen to reason—believe him—he was damned for certain. Julian shook his head.

“Patience, I do no’ have an explanation for how Una knows about my birthmark, but I have never been with the woman.”

“I don’t believe you,” she spat out with a quiet, cold fury. “The only explanation is that you were in her bed last night, and God knows how many other nights. You were at Crianlarich for two months. Perhaps the dinner parties your father likes to throw for his close friends, the Bensmores, encouraged you to take advantage of my absence.”

“Bloody hell, do you no’ know me at all. Are you willing to let the words of a spiteful witch come between us?”

“A woman who says the two of you are lovers.”

“She is no’ my lover.” His words thundered in the salon so loudly he thought the walls would shake. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Then explain where you were last night if you weren’t with her. Explain what you were doing so late that you couldn’t come home to me? Tell me why you lied about Lord Mayberry. Tell me why you came back to London, but didn’t come home to me.” The soft plea snagged at his heart as a tear slid down her pale cheek, and the pain in her gaze sliced through his chest.

“I can no’ explain, mo ghràdh,” he said with a shake of his head. “Tis no’ my secret to tell.”

“Do you have any idea how that sounds, Julian?” She closed her eyes for a moment, and he saw her throat flex as if she were trying not to cry. Patience looked at him again. “How can you expect me to believe you weren’t with her when I know you’ve lied to me once already? What am I supposed to think?”

“I expect you to have a little faith in me—to believe I would no’ lie to you,” he ground out fiercely as he took a step toward her. Patience raised her hand to stop him.

“Don’t come near me. I don’t want you to touch me.”

The words knotted his muscles tight with something he’d not experienced since he was a child—fear. Julian swallowed the anger rising in his throat. He turned away from Patience and walked to the window to stare out at the street. Hands clasped behind his back, his brain churned madly as he blindly grasped for an explanation that would ease Patience’s fears and honor Caitriona’s request.

The burden of Caitriona’s secret on his shoulders was causing a deep chasm between him and the woman he loved more than life itself. The most crippling thought was that he didn’t know what he could say to close the growing gap between them. Bloody hell, why hadn’t he simply written to her that an old friend from Crianlarich was desperately in need of his help?

Patience was the most compassionate soul he knew. She would have understood. Instead, he’d lied to her, and agreeing to Caitriona’s final request had only made things that much more difficult for him when it came to making Patience believe he was innocent of any betrayal. Slowly, he turned to face her.

“Things are no’ what they seem, mo ghràdh. I should have come home last week, but I had to conduct my business in the more sordid parts of town.” Julian met her gaze steadily as he pleaded his case. “I did no’ wish to worry you when I came home late with no explanation why. My father asked me to help Una in a matter that is of a personal nature. It is the only reason I was with her yesterday.”

Disbelief and confusion swept across Patience’s face as she pressed her hand to her throat. He stretched out his hand to her.

“Trust me, mo leannan,” he said fervently, praying she would see he was speaking from the heart. “I swore an oath to an old friend no’ to reveal what I know. Do no’ believe Una’s lies.”

“You’re asking a great deal of me, Julian.”

“Aye,” he jerked his head sharply. “I am.”

“You’re asking me to forget everything. You lied to me, Julian, and now you want me to believe you, simply because your answer is that you were helping—”

“Bloody hell, Patience. I can no’ tell a secret that is no’ mine to tell,” he roared as he smashed his fist on the table next to the window. He saw her jump with fear and immediately regretted his fierce reaction.

“What would you believe if you were in my shoes, Julian? What if I’d lied and I were the one saying I was protecting someone’s secret?” she whispered as if in great pain. “I doubt you would be so willing to believe me any more than I am to believe you.”

She was right. He would find it almost impossible to believe her if the same type of evidence was presented to him where she was concerned. Angry with himself for his lies and stupidity in agreeing to Caitriona’s request, he shook his head.

“I know the evidence makes me look guilty, Patience, but I am no’,” he rasped. “But I must honor my oath.”

“Please stop,” Patience said in a strained whisper. “I can’t think straight, Julian.”

One hand pressed against her temple, Patience closed her eyes and shook her head. A second tear slid down her cheek. Unable to help himself, he quickly closed the distance between them. This time she didn’t retreat, but he could see the raw pain in her eyes. With a gentle touch, he wiped the tear off her cheek. If someone had beaten him until he lay dying in a ditch it would have hurt less than to see the anguish in her gaze. He caught her hand in his and carried it to his lips.

“I love you, Patience. I made a mistake. If I’d come straight home last week, I would no’ have had a reason to lie about Mayberry. I was wrong, mo ghràdh. Do no’ let Una’s lies come between us.”

“I need time to think,” she whispered. “I’m going to Louisa’s for the next few days. I can’t stay here right now.”

The lifeless look in her brown eyes tightened the vise wrapped around his chest until it was painful to breathe. He wanted to plead with her to stay, but Patience, like the rest of the Rockwood clan, could be stubborn. As much as Julian didn’t want to let her go, he knew it would only make matters worse if he insisted she stay. With a sharp nod, he released her hand, and stepped back from her.

“If that’s what you wish. But know this, Patience, you’re my wife. I’ll go to hell and back to keep you. I love you. Nothing will change that. Nothing.” Something flashed in her eyes, and it gave him hope he would be able to win her trust again.

“I’ll leave in the morning for Westbrook Farms.” A pained look crossed her face. “Please sleep in the spare bedroom tonight. I do not want you near me.”

Her words made his head snap backward as if she’d hit him. What had he expected? Patience walked past him and headed toward the door. He turned to watch her, hoping against hope she’d look back at him. If she did, he would know he had a chance to win her back. Just as she walked through the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Hope flared in him. She did love him. He was certain of it. There was no doubt he would have a fight on his hands regaining her trust, but that one brief look meant he stood a chance.

Chapter 4

Patience took a sip of the Madeira Louisa’s husband, Devin, had poured for her and sat opposite her sister in the drawing room of Westbrook Farms. Dinner had been a festive affair. Yet despite the jovial manner of the family gathering, all Patience could do was think about Julian. She missed him terribly, and the more she thought about him, the worse her heart ached.

“Really, Patience. It’s been two days now. If you continue to look so down in the mouth the rest of the family will start meddling in your affairs. Particularly Constance who is grateful for your interference in her and Lucien’s happiness, and would gladly like to repay the favor.” Louisa nodded toward their sister and her future husband who were watching Sebastian and Devin’s intense chess game. The youngest of the Rockwood clan’s astute observation made her flinch.

“I thought I was acting quite cheerful at the dinner table,” she said quietly.

“At a dinner party anywhere else, I’d say you would have easily fooled all the guests. But you forget your family has far too many special talents for your unhappiness to go unnoticed,” Louisa said with a sympathetic look. “Even Sebastian, who doesn’t have the sight, noticed you’re despondent, and he asked where Julian was.”

“Julian had business to attend to,” she lied. Louisa’s penetrating gaze made Patience feel as though she’d been placed under a microscope.

“You know there isn’t a single member of the family who believes that ridiculous story in the paper, dearest,” Louisa said quietly as Patience drew in a swift breath of horror. Her family had said nothing about the article since she’d arrived at Westbrook Farms, which made her believe no one had read the article or made the connection. Now, as she met Louise’s gaze, a wave of humiliation swept over her.

“No one said…”

“Of course we wouldn’t, darling,” her sister scolded gently. “At least not until now when you look so miserable. It’s obvious you’re taking this gossip to heart, and you shouldn’t. If there’s one thing we all believe, it’s that Julian loves you. He would never betray you. There has to be a logical explanation for it. You just need to ask him.”

“I did ask him.” Patience closed her eyes for a brief moment at the memory of their argument and his deception.

“I see,” Louisa said in a cautious tone of voice. “I take it this whole matter has to do with a red-haired woman I keep seeing?”

The remark made Patience flinch. With as much nonchalance as she could, she leaned forward and set her wine glass on the round coffee table in front of the settee.

“I don’t have to ask how you came by that knowledge,” she murmured with resignation. Her sister offered her a small, knowing smile.

“When it comes to those we love, the Rockwood gift is something to be cherished.”

“As someone who has a wee bit of the an dara sealladh, I must agree with Louisa. It is troubling tae see ye so verra unhappy, dearest.”

The soft lilting sound of Aunt Matilda’s brogue floated over Patience’s head as her maternal aunt circled the settee to sit next to her. The Scotswoman patted Patience’s knee. With a wince she glanced at first her aunt and then her sister.

“Who else—or would it be better to ask who hasn’t seen something?”

“Other than me and Aunt Matilda, no one else has mentioned anything. At least for the moment, they haven’t,” Louisa said with added emphasis on the last part of her statement.

Patience groaned softly at the idea of her heartbreak becoming a family matter. If left unchecked, it would quickly get out of hand, and everyone would be offering advice as to how to fix her marriage. It was the last thing she wanted. Determined to stop her aunt and sister in midstride, Patience turned her head toward Caleb, who seemed attached to the liquor cart.

He’d drank heavily at dinner, and had imbibed at least two full snifters of cognac since the family had retired to the salon. Her brother’s unrelenting sorrow had been evident to her all evening. She shook her head with concern.

“I think the one we should all worry about is Caleb. It’s been a year since Georgina’s death. Every time I see him, he’s drinking.” The most handsome of her brothers, Caleb’s excessive drinking was beginning to take its toll on his health and appearance.

“We’ve tried to convince him to stop, but it only enrages him when we mention it,” Louisa said with an unhappy frown. “And he wants nothing to do with the children.

“Aye, the poor bairns did no’ lose just a mother, they lost their father too.” Aunt Matilda’s expression was one of sorrow as she shook her head in dismay.

“Does he even visit the nursery?” Patience asked as her gaze shifted to Caleb who was pouring himself another drink. The youngest of her three brothers had been devastated by the loss of his wife in childbirth, and she hated to know that his children were suffering for it.

“Seldom,” Louisa said. “I know they miss him terribly. Although I’m not Caleb, I make sure to give Alma and Braxton as much attention as I do Charlie and William. Greer is too young to understand, but it is Caleb who is missing out. They’re all growing so fast.”

“Well, perhaps I can at least coax him away from the liquor cart for the rest of the evening,” Patience said as she rose to her feet.

“Tread lightly, Patience,” her aunt warned as she touched Patience’s arm. “Ye brother is no’ always pleasant when he’s been in the drink.”

“I’ll avoid any mention of our concern for him.” With a squeeze of her aunt’s hand, Patience crossed the room to her brother’s side.

“Would you indulge me in a game of cards, Caleb?” she asked. With as cheerful a smile as possible, she tucked her arm in his. “You used to trounce me easily, but I think my skill has greatly increased since we were children.”

“You know good and well I had to earn every one of those games,” her brother said with a small smile. From across the room, Sebastian’s wife, Helen, laughed.

“Patience, if you’re able to convince Caleb to play cards, I insist on playing as well. It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed a good round of Euchre.”

“I’m in as well,” exclaimed Percy, the second oldest of the Rockwood clan. He pressed his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes as if thinking hard. Eyes opening, he grinned. “And I predict I shall win.”

For the first time since leaving London, Patience laughed. Beside her, Caleb chuckled as well. He looked down at her, and the sorrow in his hazel eyes made her heart break. She had a small inkling of what he was feeling. Patience forced a smile to her lips.

“Well, are you going to play or are you afraid I shall beat you,” she asked as she arched her eyebrows. Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he met her gaze then nodded.

“You know bloody well I wouldn’t be a Rockwood if I let that challenge go unanswered,” he said with a quiet resolve and slight smile.

At his agreement to participate, Helen clapped her hands and Louisa went in search of cards, while Caleb pulled away from Patience to pour himself another drink. She knew better than to protest his doing so. The fact that she’d convinced him to play cards was an achievement itself. To push for another change so quickly could easily undo the little she’d already accomplished.

With cards in hand, Helen joined Caleb, Percy, and Patience at the card table. Sebastian and Devin were deeply involved in their game of chess and waved them away. Despite her protests, Louisa convinced Aunt Matilda to join her, Constance, and Lucien at another table. For the next hour, laughter filled the air as everyone merrily taunted one another when a hand or game was won.

Despite his brooding demeanor, Caleb seemed to be enjoying the game. But to Patience’s dismay, he continued to drink more and more wine as the evening wore on. Patience had just taken a trick when Louisa’s butler appeared at her side.

“There is a messenger for you, my lady,” Hughes bent over to discreetly whisper in her ear. “They say it’s urgent. I’ve shown them into his lordship’s study.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod as she took another trick. Had someone come to tell her Julian had been hurt? Her heart slammed into her chest before she tried to dismiss her fear. She wished she could feel nothing, but she did.

“Are you all right, Patience?” Caleb laid his hand over hers as an odd frown darkened his handsome features.

“I’m fine.” She smiled with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “It’s just a message for me.”

“Isn’t it rather late for someone to be delivering messages?” Helen murmured. The worried expression on her sister-in-law’s face made Patience’s heart lurch, but she shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be back in a moment. Sebastian, Devin, will one of you take my place until I return?”

Her eldest brother looked up from his chess game with a scowl as Devin announced checkmate with a jubilant cry of victory. With a grimace of self-disgust at his loss, Sebastian grunted his agreement to Patience. As he stood up, he warned Devin a rematch would be expected at a later date as he moved toward Patience’s seat at the table. Her brother bent to kiss his wife’s cheek then straightened to smile at her.

“Are you and Helen winning?”

“Yes,” she said with satisfaction as she arched her eyebrows at Caleb. Percy simply groaned with amused disgust that he and his brother were losing the match. Caleb shook his head.

“Your winning streak is about to end, Patience. We both know Sebastian is not a very good player,” Caleb taunted, his slurred speech indicating he was well on his way to being completely drunk. Sebastian frowned at his youngest brother’s condition, but didn’t say a word, despite his obvious desire to chastise Caleb.

“Then I’ll return as quickly as I can to prevent any real damage.” Patience went up on her toes to kiss Sebastian’s cheek. “Please do your best not to muck up what I’ve achieved, Sebastian.”

“I shall rely on Helen to keep me in line,” he said with an arched look at Patience.

“Something I do every day, my love,” Sebastian’s wife said with a teasing laugh.

Satisfied her winning streak was fairly safe, Patience left the drawing room and hurried to the study. God help her if something had happened to Julian. His betrayal was devastating, but she still loved him no matter what he’d done to cause her pain. The study was softly lit by the blaze in the fireplace, while a small gas lamp spread its light over one of the reading tables. Patience looked around the empty room with a frown of puzzlement. She was certain Hughes had said the messenger was waiting for her in the study. Behind her the soft thud of the door closing made her whirl around in surprise. One hand pressed to her stomach, she froze at the sight of Julian. For a moment, she thought he was a hallucination. Patience blinked as if that would erase the image in front of her. When he didn’t disappear, she drew in a breath of relief. He was all right. Nothing had happened to him.

“Why are you here?” The tremor in her voice angered her. She didn’t want him to know she’d been worried about his safety or how he could still make her heart flutter when they were in the same room together. She drank in the sight of him. He looked tired. Tired and dusty. Dressed in breeches and his riding jacket, it was apparent he’d ridden to Westbrook Farms rather than taking the train. The realization made her think he’d been eager to reach her—unwilling to wait on the train.

“Your sister sent word for me to come.”

“Louisa should not have done that,” she said hoarsely.

“I would have come with or without her invitation.” The resolute note in his words made her heart skip a beat. God, how she wanted to run to him, but the fear of being hurt again held her back. He’d lied to her, and she couldn’t forget that.

“I said I needed time to think, Julian,” she said warily.

“Aye, that you did.” His lips were thinned in a grim line as he nodded. “I’ve had time to think as well, and I think we need to talk about why you’re willing to think the worst of me.”

“Isn’t that obvious,” she snapped.

“I do no’ dispute the fact that I deceived you Patience, but it was with good intentions. I also know the evidence against me is damning. But none of it is true, and I can prove it.”

Startled by his observation, Patience stared at him for a moment before she shook her head.

“I don’t know how you think you could possibly do that.” At her brittle reply Julian eyed her carefully.

“Let us consider the gossip column first,” he said quietly as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Gossip requires a source, and I’ve learned that a woman with red hair supplied the newspaper with the lies they printed in the column.”

“How do you know that?” she scoffed with a disbelieving frown.

“Because I threatened to thrash the man who wrote the article until he told me where the story came from.” The fierce expression on his face made Patience certain Julian had terrified the newspaper reporter into believing he would make good on his threat.

“Even if what you say is true, there’s still the brooch and Una’s visit,” she said scornfully.

“Aye, the brooch,” he said softly. “The estate agent who showed us several houses, said he found the brooch and Una claimed it as hers,” Julian said tersely, his expression dark with a dangerous emotion that unsettled her. If she didn’t know better, she would think him capable of hurting the woman. “Naturally, she did no’ return it to me, but delivered it to you instead.”

Patience stared at him in silence as she contemplated everything he’d told her so far. When she didn’t say anything Julian frowned.

“Do you no’ have something to say?”

“What would you have me say?” she asked with an aching heart. “You’ve explained two things, but you’ve failed to explain why you were house hunting with her or how Una knew about your birthmark, which is the most damming of all the evidence.”

“Christ Jesus, Patience,” he snarled. “I can no’ explain how Una knows about my birthmark, but I have no’ been with her or any woman since we met. Whatever lies Una told you are nothing more than that—they’re lies.”

“The an dara sealladh showed me a baby. The woman was holding a child, Julian,” she choked out in a hoarse voice. At the accusation, Julian stiffened, but did not look away from her.

“Tis no’ my child, mo ghràdh,” he said firmly, but it was the endearment he used that made her flinch.

“Don’t call me that,” she exclaimed fiercely. “I am not your love. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“And you do no’ know the meaning of trust,” he snarled viciously. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never heard him speak so harshly to her before. A savage anger hardened Julian’s face, and she was certain dark angels could not have looked more fierce. As she met his furious gaze, bitterness welled up inside her.

“You’re not asking for trust, Julian,” she said through clenched teeth. “You’re asking me to believe she’s the liar, not you.”

“She is lying,” he ground out with restrained fury

“But she’s not lying about the birthmark,” she said softly, and her words made Julian jerk.

“No,” he said in a flat voice.

“I asked you once before, but you didn’t answer me,” she rasped. “Put yourself in my place and answer me honestly, would you believe me if our positions were reversed?”

“I hope I would choose to believe you,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion.

“But you’re not certain that you would.”

“No,” he bit out in a harsh voice and with obvious reluctance.

“I need more time, Julian,” she whispered. “Whether your lies were well-intentioned or not, you still deceived me. You’re asking for blind faith, and that doesn’t come easily to me, any more than it would for you.”

With a shake of her head, she started toward the door. The moment she tried to pass him, his hand snaked outward to wrap around her arm. With a swift tug, he pulled her into his arms. Instantly, her body was on fire, and the air left her lungs as a longing deep inside her wished this nightmare wasn’t happening. The scent of the outdoors flooded her senses as he pulled her tight. He always smelled good. Tonight he smelled of horse, leather, and the crisp night air. She trembled at the way his scent assaulted her senses.

“How many times have I showed you how much I love you?”

His warm silky brogue wrapped its tendrils around her in a way that had always been her undoing. Julian bent his head to brush his lips across her cheek until his teeth grazed her earlobe. The shudder rippling through her had to have told him the effect he was having on her. And it was a potent effect. Her mouth was dry, and she was on the verge of losing herself in him.

“What reason would I have to bed another woman, when the only woman I want is the one I’m holding in my arms?” The softness of his voice mesmerized her. The sincerity in his words made her want to believe him.

“Let me go, Julian,” she whispered. It frightened her how easily he was seducing her into forgiving him. Or was it exactly what she wanted?

The dark growl rumbling in his chest should have warned her, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. As much as she hated to admit it, her body was betraying her as easily as he’d lied to her. A tremor swept through her as his lips grazed across the edge of her jaw downward until his mouth lightly touched hers.

“Answer me, mo leannan. Why would I bed another woman, when you’re the only woman I want? The only woman I’ll ever want.”

“Please don’t do this, Julian.”

“Do no’ do what, mo ghràdh? Love you? That would be like asking me to stop breathing,” he whispered as his mouth brushed over hers again. His words hypnotized her. Deep inside, she didn’t question his sincerity, only her own inability to believe him.

Sweetly, tenderly, he kissed her. The light touch of his mouth on hers was that of a lover unwilling to do anything that might frighten her. In the back of her mind a voice warned her not to give way, but she did. Just as she always had where his touch was concerned, she melted into him. He murmured something just before his mouth hardened on hers. The moment his tongue slipped into her mouth, she knew she was lost.

As her tongue mated with his, her body hummed a familiar rhythm. Her hands spiked in his silky, dark hair as she pressed her body into his. The warmth of him seeped its way into her until she was aware of nothing else but him. He was all male, and for this particular moment in time, he was hers. The pain in her heart eased at the tender kisses he planted on her face.

He whispered words of love. Words that sank their way into her subconscious and told her to forgive his transgressions. His hands slid across her shoulder in a loving caress as his mouth blazed a path across her cheek then down her neck.

“I love you mo leannan. Forgive me. Come home to me.”

Sanity returned to her the moment he asked for her forgiveness. With a hard shove against his chest, Patience broke free of his embrace.

“No, Julian. You cannot seduce me into forgiving you or believing what you say. I need something more than sweet words whispered in my ear,” she said quietly.

“Something more than my sweet words?” Julian’s voice was tight with anger. “What is it you really want Patience? Do you expect me to grovel? That I will no’ do. Not even for you mo leannan.”

“No, I don’t want that,” she said with a shake of her head. The thought of his pride being stripped from him appalled her.

“Then what do you want?” he bit out as he stared at her with eyes that could have been dark mahogany ingots.

“What I want is to trust you again, and I don’t know how to do that.” Sorrow swept through her. It was as if a part of her was dying, and she didn’t know how to revive it.

“Nor do I, Patience,” he ground out with a viciousness that made her flinch. The heel of her palm pressed to her forehead, she closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at Julian again, his features were chiseled stone.

“I’ll have Hughes find you a room for the night.” With those final words, Patience walked to the door. Her hand had just touched the doorknob, when Julian’s voice filled the air.

“Understand this, Patience. I’ll no’ give you up,” he said in an inflexible, resolute voice. “Do no’ think to ask for a divorce. I will no’ give it to you.”

Patience looked over her shoulder at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His profile could have been etched in marble for how severe his expression was. Her heart skipped a beat. If he didn’t love her would he be so set in his determination not to let her go? Could a man who was so decisive in his purpose actually have betrayed her? The fact that she didn’t have an answer was what terrified her the most. It meant she didn’t trust him and without trust how could their marriage survive? Without replying to his words, Patience fled the room.

Chapter 5

Patience woke up coughing. Groggily, she reached for the glass of water at her bedside and swallowed the liquid. The mantel clock chimed four, and she pushed aside a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. The moment she smelled smoke, each of her senses were on high alert. Hoping the damper had simply fallen closed inside the fireplace flue, she slipped out of bed. The floor beneath her feet was warm, and an ember in the fireplace sparked and created a flame that illuminated small tendrils of smoke swirling gently in the air. In the distance, she thought she heard cries. Patience ran to the door and cautiously open it. Smoke billowed into her room from the hallway and set off another bout of coughing.

Dread tightened her chest as she stepped out into the corridor and looked toward the main staircase. Patience’s eyes widened in horror as she saw a wall of flames at the stairs. Terrified she let out a wild scream of fear. On the opposite side of the burning staircase, she saw Sebastian fling his arm around Helen to prevent her from racing through the flames toward Patience. Devin and Lucien were doing the same with her sisters as all three women struggled with their husbands and screamed mad wails of terror.

“Oh dear god,” she whispered as she remembered the nursery was behind her. “The children.”

The door across from hers opened, and Aunt Matilda emerged from her room coughing. As the Scotswoman looked toward the stairwell, she blanched with fear before a calm expression settled on her face. She touched Patience’s arm.

“I’ll see to the children, dearie,” her aunt said in a quiet, but urgent, voice. “Rouse Caleb.”

With a nod, Patience hurried through the smoke to Caleb’s room, which was closest to the fire. Through the flames, she saw Percy shove Julian against the wall of the corridor to keep him from plunging through the fire engulfing the floor at the top of the staircase. Terror spiraled through her like a swiftly moving serpent. Her gaze met Julian’s for a brief moment before she turned away and threw Caleb’s door open. It crashed against the wall to reveal her brother, still dressed, sprawled across the bedcovers. The smoke was stronger in Caleb’s room, and her coughing worsened. Racing toward the bed, Patience shook her brother hard.

“Caleb, get up,” she shouted. “The house is on fire.”

His response was to push her hand away with a grunt and continue sleeping. In the hallway she heard more shouts and cries of fear.

“Caleb, please,” she frantically pleaded as she shook him again. “Wake up.”

He grunted again, but still didn’t move. Patience glanced desperately around the room for something that might awaken her brother. A vase of flowers on a nearby table made her leap forward. The blooms scattered beneath her feet as she yanked them out of the vase and raced to the bed where she dumped the water on Caleb’s head. Her brother came to with a loud snarl. Sitting upright in bed he glared at her.

“What the devil is wrong with you, Patience?” he shouted in a slightly slurred voice.

“The house is on fire,” she screamed at him. For a long moment, Caleb stared at her as if she were mad. Then in the next instant, he was wide-awake and off his bed in a flash of movement.

“The children,” he ground out with visible fear on his face as he headed toward the door.

The two of them ran into the hallway, and Patience saw the fire had crept even closer toward Caleb’s room. Aunt Matilda had reached the nursery and with the help of Nanny Smythe was hustling the children out into the hallway. Both Patience and Caleb reached their aunt at the same time. The Scotswoman was holding her namesake in her arms, while the nurse held Caleb’s baby girl, Greer. The older children had taken charge of the younger children, and her brother knelt next to Alma and Braxton to give them a quick hug.

“It’s all right, my darlings, papa’s here. Everything’s going to be all right.”

The little boy and girl clung to Caleb as he tried to stand. When they wouldn’t let go, he rose up with them still in his arms. Coughing, he looked at Patience and then their aunt.

“Will go down the servants’ staircase,” Caleb said with a calm she would have expected from Sebastian, never from him. Before he could move forward, Aunt Matilda shook her head, her mouth thinned in a tight line of worry.

“The fire has reached there as well. It’s blocked.”

“The window,” Caleb bit out as he strode toward the end of the corridor with Alma and Braxton still in his arms.

From where she stood, she saw his back grow rigid. He whirled around and returned to where the group of them was huddled in a small tight group. The children were beginning to cough badly, and Patience met her brother’s worried gaze.

“The flames are shooting out from the dining room window below. We’ll not be able to get out that way.” Her brother’s voice was grim as he looked at first Patience and then Aunt Matilda. “The whole downstairs on this side of the house must be burning out of control. None of the windows below us will be free of the flames.”

Patience’s heart sank down into her stomach before rising up in her throat. A young hand slipped into hers, and she looked down to see Devin’s and Louisa’s oldest child at her side.

“My feet are hot, Aunt Patience,” Charlie said in the midst of a coughing spurt.

“Mine are too, darling. But we’ll find a way out of here, all right.” Patience bent over the boy and kissed his forehead. Inside, she prayed fervently that the night would not make a liar out of her.

“Then we’ll have to brave the lion’s mouth,” Aunt Matilda said quietly. Caleb and Patience looked at her then followed her gaze. In disbelief, she looked back at her aunt and shook her head violently.

“There has to be another way,” Patience exclaimed with horror.

“There’s no way out on this end, child,” her aunt said softly. “The servants’ stairs at the other end of the house are still usable. They’ve already formed a fire brigade to try to reach us.”

Patience looked over her shoulder and saw Sebastian empty a bucket of water on the fire before Julian passed him another one. Lucien, Devin, and Percy were passing buckets they were receiving from someone in the servants’ stairwell. She looked back at her aunt and Caleb who was contemplating the grim prospect.

“How will we keep the children—or us— from being burned?”

“We will cover the wee bairns with wool blankets from the nursery. Wool does no’ burn fast, and we can wet them down with water from our rooms.” Confidence filled the Scotswoman’s voice, and Caleb nodded in agreement.

“We’ll do it. Aunt Matilda, let Sebastian know what we’re going to do. Patience and I will fetch—” A loud crack interrupted Caleb, and they all turned toward the end of the hall where the nursery was. Flames flew upward as a small portion of the floor broke away and gave the fire room to breathe.

“Saints preserve us,” Aunt Matilda whispered, and for the first time, Patience saw fear on the Scotswoman’s face.

“Move the children toward the main stairs, Aunt Matilda,” Caleb commanded with a sharp precision their eldest brother would be proud of. “Patience come with me, we’ll need water to wet the blankets.”

Following his orders, Patience left her aunt and the nurse to usher the crying children toward the middle of the house. With silent gestures, Caleb pointed to her bedroom as well as her aunt’s to get what they needed while he moved toward the nursery. Fear created a knot in her throat and she coughed hard as she entered her aunt’s smoke-filled room. One arm covering her nose and mouth, Patience moved quickly toward a vase of flowers to merge the water with what was in the pitcher sitting beside the washbasin.

Pitcher in hand, she grabbed the wool blanket off the bed and returned to the hallway. She hurried to where her aunt and the nurse had gathered the children and set the water and blankets on the floor. The heat of the fire had forced them to stop several feet away from where the main staircase was on fire.

For the first time, Patience was able to see the gap between them and the rest of her family. She drew in a breath of horror. There was barely even a third of the hallway remaining for them to walk across to reach safety. Sebastian was rapidly throwing bucket after bucket on the small stretch of walkway and looked up to meet Patience’s gaze. His grim expression made her heart pound with fear as she turned around and raced back down the hall to retrieve water and blankets from her own room.

The smoke in her room made her eyes sting and it was almost impossible to breathe. She worked quickly and in seconds she’d returned to the hall where she met Caleb on his way back to the frightened group of children. The grim expression on his face matched the expressions of the men on the opposite side of the stairwell.

“We’ll send the oldest children across first,” Caleb shouted at his oldest brother over the roar of the fire.

Sebastian nodded and turned his head as Devin broke away from the hall brigade. Her brother-in-law said something to Sebastian and pointed toward the wood that still laid between the two sections of hallway. Her brother nodded, and Devin stepped toward the edge of the wood as Caleb returned to their small huddle.

“Jamie. Theo. Imogene. The three of you are to go first,” Caleb said as he used a knife he’d retrieved from his room to begin splitting the blankets they had in two. The three children looked at their uncle with terror in their eyes, and her brother bent his head toward them. “You’ll be perfectly safe. Uncle Devin is on the other side waiting for you.”

“Come on, Gene,” Jamie said as he straightened and reached out for Imogene’s hand. In the far reaches of her mind, Patience remembered how Constance despaired of Jamie’s nickname for Imogene. The girl, who’d been trembling only seconds before, slipped her hand into Jamie’s clearly taking comfort in being at her best friend’s side.

“We’ll be okay, Uncle Caleb,” Theo, Sebastian’s oldest child, said with just a touch of fear in his voice.

“I know you will,” Caleb said as he squeezed the young boy’s shoulder.

“Who will take Greer across,” Imogene exclaimed. The girl had become attached to the baby, and Patience understood her fear for the infant.

“We’ll see that she gets across as well,” Caleb said in a reassuring tone. Imogene’s expression suddenly became one of stubborn determination. If Patience hadn’t known better, she would have thought the child a Rockwood by birth.

“I will carry her.” Without waiting for anyone to object, Imogene went to the nurse and took the baby from her hands. “Come along, Greer, you’ll be safe with me.”

Caleb stared helplessly at the young girl holding his baby girl in her arms. Patience could tell he didn’t know what to do, and she directed a nod of encouragement at him. With a grimace, he hurried Imogene back to the oldest boys. Caleb dampened three blankets then showed the children how to keep the protective covering over their heads. Quickly, yet gently, her brother guided them toward the flames. With instructions to keep their heads down and stay close to the wall, he sent Imogene with the baby first, followed by Theo and Jamie just a few steps behind.

Lucien greeted Jamie and Imogene with thankful enthusiasm on the other side as Devin handed the children off to him. The moment Devin handed Theo to her eldest brother, Sebastian hugged his son tight, and Patience saw him shudder. With a kiss on the boy’s forehead Sebastian set his son down and pointed toward the stairs at the end of the hall. Her nephew nodded and set off at a run.

Satisfied the children and the baby had reached safety, Caleb ordered Aunt Matilda to carry Tilly across. The woman shook her head and emphatically insisted Nanny cross the small stretch of wood with Charlie in her arms. An odd expression crossed her brother’s face as he gave her a grim nod. For the first time, Patience realized her aunt and Caleb didn’t think all of them would reach the other side. They were sending the heirs to safety first.

She dragged in a sharp breath of fear, and coughed violently as smoke filled her lungs. Caleb urged Nanny forward who pulled a blanket over her head and wrapped it around Charlie who was sobbing with fear. Cautiously, the woman crossed what was left of the hall floor. Despite Sebastian’s continued efforts to keep the floor wet with splashes of water, the path to safety was quickly being eaten away by the fire. Seconds later, the nurse handed her small charge over into his father’s arms. Devin kissed the boy reassuringly and then handed his son back to the nurse and directed her to go to the end of the hallway.

“Aunt Matilda—” Caleb didn’t get to finish before the Scotswoman shook her head.

“Patience is tae go with Braxton, I’ll—”

“No,” she shouted over the noise of the fire. “Take Tilly. Caleb will need help getting the rest of the children across. Go. Now.”

With a look of resignation on her face, her aunt quickly closed the space between them and enveloped her in a tight hug. The Scotswoman pressed a tender kiss onto Patience’s cheek then stepped back and wrapped a blanket tight around her and Tilly.

The four remaining children clung tightly to Patience’s nightgown as she watched Aunt Matilda slowly carry her precious cargo to safety. When her aunt reached the other side, Patience noted the wood flooring was growing more narrow by the minute despite Sebastian’s efforts to keep the fire at bay. If possible, Caleb’s expression was grimmer than before as he turned toward Patience and she offered him his son.

“Take Braxton.”

Caleb jerked his head in a sharp nod. Throwing a blanket over his head, he scooped Braxton up into his arms and moved through the flames toward safety. When he was within arm’s reach of Devin, he handed Braxton to the other man and returned to where Patience and the children waited.

Without a word, she picked up Angus and handed him to her brother. Caleb winced as he glanced down at Alma. Patience met his gaze then looked down at the little girl clinging to her nightgown. She knew he was fully aware that the male spare was considered more valuable than his own daughter. Patience saw the horror in his eyes as she saw him struggle with whether to override her decision. It was a heartbreaking choice. A choice she’d made for him because she knew it would be too much to ask of him at the moment. Fighting back tears, she shook her head.

“Go,” she exclaimed sharply. “We’re running out of time.”

Caleb turned and moved as quickly as he could back across the path to safety that was growing more narrow by the second. His foot slipped, and for a moment she was certain he and Angus would fall into the roaring fire. Devin said something to him with a vicious gesture of both hands. Her brother hesitated then with in one swift movement he tossed the child to Devin more than three feet away.

Horrified, Patience pressed her hand against her mouth to cover her scream. Devin easily caught the child and handed Angus off to Sebastian. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she saw the fire biting at Caleb’s trousers. Sliding his way back across what was left of the plank of wood, her brother jumped back through the flames to land a short two feet from her. There were only two blankets left and her heart sank. Before he could speak, she pointed to her nephew.

“You have to take Willie then come back for Alma. I’m not as strong as you if it becomes necessary. . .” Her voice trailed off at the thought of having to throw Willie or Alma to safety.

Caleb didn’t argue, he simply picked up another blanket, lifted Willie into his arms, and started back across the narrow strip of wood. The flames seemed to lick even harder at her brother’s feet as he moved toward the other side of the gap, and Patience watched with horror as he struggled to keep his footing. When her brother gently tossed Charlie into his father’s arms, Devin hugged the boy tightly while Caleb made his way back to her. Patience picked up the remaining blanket and met Caleb as he passed through the fire. Without a word, she handed Alma to him. His gaze swept the floor, and his jaw hardened with tension as he realized they had no more blankets.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“No, I’ll come after you.”

“For the love of God, Patience. You need some form of protection.”

“Look at the flooring. It’s already broken between here and where Sebastian and the others are. Go now,” she said in a calm voice as she resigned herself to whatever fate had in store for her. “I’ll follow you. I can jump, but I can’t get Alma and myself safely across.” I’m not strong enough.”

“Then I’ll meet you halfway,” he snarled.

“No,” she shouted over the roar of the fire. “The floor might not hold us both. I’ll be right behind you.”

Horror, pain, and fear glazed her brother’s beautiful dark eyes as he stared at her for a moment. Like her aunt, he pulled her into a tight hug then with a kiss to her brow he released her and headed back toward the fire. Patience’s gaze flitted away from Caleb’s tall figure to look across the barrier of flames to see Julian staring at her with an agonized look on his face.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach and she looked away. She couldn’t bear to think that she might never be in his arms again. Quickly ripping the material of her nightgown at the knees, she stepped out of the lengthy piece of material and tore it again then doubled it into a shawl. With the shawl covering her head and face, Patience stepped forward to follow Caleb through the fire. Her heart in her mouth, she saw Alma fly through the air to land in Devin’s arms.

A small measure of relief swept through her. The children were safe. She closed her eyes for a brief second before she heard Caleb roar with anger. In horror, she saw another piece of the floor begin to buckle beneath him. He flung his arms out in an involuntary effort to save himself. In the next precious instant, Devin caught him by the hand, and pulled Caleb toward him.

Relief surged through her once more before the sound of snapping wood echoed over the crackling of the fire. Horror held her rigid as she saw the flooring beneath Devin’s feet give way. As he fell, Devin twisted his body and caught the edge of the flooring with one hand as Caleb weighed him down with his other hand. Sebastian, Julian, and Lucien rushed forward to reach for Devin, but the flooring beneath his hand gave way, and a split second later, Devin plummeted with Caleb into the fire below.

Wild screams pierced the air relentlessly, and Patience thought they would never fade until she realized they were coming from her. Sobbing, she sank to her knees as she tried to forget the image of her brother and Devin plunging into the flames. Arms wrapped around her waist, she rocked back and forth as a web of fear wrapped itself around her leaving her paralyzed.

Once again the sound of wood breaking beneath the onslaught of the flames rent the air. Patience’s head jerked up, her eyes widening with horror as she saw the last piece of the ledge to safety fall into the inferno. Suddenly icy cold, she realized she was all alone. From across the flames, and the gap where the main stairs had once been, she saw the panic in Sebastian’s face. Her brother never panicked. It was an odd thought to have when she was facing certain death.

“Patience,” Julian shouted over the crackling fire. “You have to jump, mo ghràdh. You must jump now.”

Horrified at the death that waited for her below, she shook her head vehemently. He was asking her to do the impossible. Sebastian called out to her from across the hole in the floor.

“Patience, look at me,” her brother shouted with an authoritative anger she’d only heard once or twice in her life. Sebastian never lost control of his temper. “Julian will catch you. Lucien and I will hold onto him so the two of you don’t fall.”

He didn’t have to say the words, but she knew he meant they wouldn’t let her fall into the flames as Caleb and Devin had. She shook her head again, looking around her for another escape route. Behind her she saw the floor outside the nursery groan and fall inward as the fire ate its way toward her.

“For the love of God, Patience.” Anguish filled Percy’s voice as their gazes met. “You have to jump sweetheart.”

Percy had been her idol growing up. She’d followed him like a puppy everywhere he’d gone. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before she opened them and looked at Julian. His expression was one of pleading and encouragement, and she took a step forward. Suddenly, flames exploded from the wall on her left. In the next instance, the material on her face burst into flames.

Pain twisted through her as she screamed and frantically fought to pull the flaming material off her head. Terrified, she jumped away as part of the wall collapsed near her feet, and the fire lashed out at her again. She raised her arm to cover her face, and the flames viciously flayed her skin, while licking her cheek in a silent taunt. She was going to burn alive.

Patience staggered away from the flames that took the place of where the wall had once been. Dazed with fear and pain, she stared across the fiery divide at the men watching her with looks of horror and helpless fury. Sebastian turned away from her and slammed his fist into the wall. Scorn suddenly crossed Julian’s features as he folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

“I thought a Rockwood never refused a challenge, Patience MacTavish.” Julian’s shout was loud, strong, and arrogant as he met her startled gaze. “Are ye about tae let this little fire beat ye?”

The cynical look on Julian’s face sent a streak of anger through her. The bastard wasn’t happy he’d caused her pain by lying to her. Now he had to ridicule her as well. Anger swept through her at the disdainful sneer on his lips. The fury it aroused in her battled its way past the excruciating pain threatening to render her unconscious. Julian was right. A Rockwood never backed away from a challenge. Her gaze met his, and she saw a flash of emotion sweep across his face. She didn’t try to identify it because she knew it would be her undoing.

Slowly, she turned and walked as far back along the hallway as she could. Just as she’d reached the furthest spot in the hallway a roar split the air over her head. Fire erupted out of the ceiling, and a piece of flaming lumber crashed down on top of her left side. She screamed with pain as the wood drove her down to the floor and the flames ate away at her skin. With a loud cry, this one of panic and fear, she gathered her strength to push the burning lumber off her.

Free of the wood’s weight, she fell backward on the floor and remained still. In the distance, she heard people calling her name. It would be so much easier to ignore them and simply remain here until the fire took her. It was then that she heard Julian’s voice piercing the roar of the flames as he called her name several times in the brogue that had seduced her when they first met.

“Well, Patience?” Julian’s shout of derision punched its way through her pain and despair. “Are ye going tae just lie down and die or are ye going to show us what a true Rockwood will do to survive?”

She slowly sat up and looked over her shoulder at him. She saw Sebastian say something to Julian, but her husband waved her brother away without his gaze straying from hers. With a casual, deliberate motion, he folded his arms across his chest. The arrogance of his stance enraged her. For the first time since she’d laid eyes on Julian, she hated him. Hated him for mocking her when she was in pain. Hated him for lying to her. And hated him for being here to watch her die. But worst of all, she hated herself for not telling him one last time how much she loved him.

“Do no’ make me come for ye, Patience MacTavish.” His angry shout was filled with a fury that made her stagger to her feet.

His words filled her with a fear greater than anything she’d felt tonight. If Julian were to come after her, he’d die just like her. That was something she refused to let happen. She would not let him die because of her. Patience turned around to meet Julian’s gaze across the distance. If she were to die tonight, it would be running toward the man she loved. A sudden bolt of energy zipped through her, and with a primal scream she leaped forward into a fast run. Patience’s gaze didn’t leave Julian’s face as she raced forward. Her feet pounded against the hot floor as she sped toward the wall of fire and the gaping hole where the staircase had once been. The moment she reached the edge of the flames and the opening between her and safety, she closed her eyes and flung herself into the air toward Julian.

Hands outstretched, she prayed he would catch her. What seemed like an eternity, but was only a brief second, strong hands latched onto her wrists and pulled her to safety. The pressure on her burned wrist pulled a screech of agony out of her throat, and she fell into a deep hole free of the pain.

A cacophony of sound assaulted her ears as she emerged from the darkness. Her entire left side felt as if she were still in the burning house. Through the pain, she realized someone had carried her outside. The noise here was as loud as the roar of the fire had been only moments before. Bells clanging, shouts, the sound of Louisa screaming wildly with grief, and the men of the family trying to bring order to the chaos echoed madly in her ears.

The fresh scent of grass mixed with the stench of wet wood and smoke. It made her gag as it filled her nose. The cool night air brushed over her burns like icy cold water and she shivered. A blanket was thrown over her, and she shrieked as the wool scraped across her blistering skin. It was immediately jerked off her as through a blur of tears she saw Percy and Julian kneel down, one on either side of her.

“Sweet Jesus, look at her face,” her brother exclaimed in a low voice of horror. “She has burns down her entire left side.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Patience remembered the an dara sealladh. The visions of her burns. The scars. Why hadn’t she known what they meant? She could have saved Caleb. Devin. The salt in the tears running down her cheek intensified her pain, and she choked on her sobs.

“You’re safe, mo ghràdh. I’m here.” Julian said softly as he stroked her unmarred cheek. “It will be all right.”

She moaned her protest. It would never be all right. Her gift had failed her. No, she’d failed Caleb and Devin. Nothing would ever be the same again. Despite the pain it caused her to move, she reached out to grasp Percy’s shirt in a tight fist and pulled herself upward. “Percy, please…home…Melton House.”

“Yes, Patience, we’ll take you home to Melton House.”

At her brother’s reassurance she fell backward onto the grass again. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment then opened again as Julian brushed his mouth against her unmarred hand. He didn’t say a word, but the anguished hopelessness in his gaze made her sob again before the pain dragged her downward into a dark place where she felt nothing.

§ § §

Patience woke with a cry of pain on her lips. A stranger was wrapping her arm with a wet bandage, and the pressure made her want to push the man’s hand away. Tears rolled down her cheek, but the salty droplets didn’t burn. Groggily, she reached up with her free hand to touch her face. A strong hand caught hers in a firm, but gentle grip, to prevent her from touching the bandage covering the side of her cheek.

“No, Patience. You need to lie still, mo leannan.” Julian’s voice wrapped its way around her in a light caress. He was here. Her fingers moved against his as she licked her lips.

“How…long?” she asked hoarsely. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Two weeks, me darlin’ girl. Doctor Branson thought it best that we keep ye sedated for a while.”

As if from across the moors of Callendar, she heard her aunt’s voice. Her gaze shifted toward the sound, and the soft rustle of silk filled the air as Aunt Matilda bent over her. A smile curved the Scotswoman’s lips, but she could see the concern in her aunt’s gaze.

“We thought we ha’ lost ye, Patience,” her aunt said as she gently squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re healing nicely, Lady Patience,” the young doctor said in a quiet voice as he continued to dress her burns. “But you still have a long road to recovery. We’ll need to begin stretching exercises as soon as you are more fully awake. It will be painful, but it’s necessary to avoid contraction of the limbs.”

Patience eyelids brushed her cheeks as she realized the bandage the doctor had applied must have contained something to ease her pain as her arm no longer felt as if it were consumed in flames. It simply throbbed in a way that made her stomach roil. Images of the blaze at Westbrook Farms filled her head, and she drew in a sharp breath of fear. The air made her chest hurt until she coughed violently as she remembered watching Caleb and Devin plunging to their fiery deaths. Patience released a sob.

“Vision… didn’t…understand.”

“Christ Jesus, Patience.” Julian’s voice was thick with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Tis no’ your fault, mo leannan.”

“You can no’ blame yourself, dearie.” Aunt Matilda’s fingers stroked her unmarred cheek. “The an dara sealladh, is no’ always clear. There was nothing ye could have done.”

“Caleb,” she breathed her brother’s name. “Devin.”

“They are in a better place now, my darlin’ lass.” Her aunt’s mouth brushed across her brow.

Patience’s eyes fluttered shut. Her visions hadn’t been able to help her save Caleb or Devin, but the scars she’d seen were a reality. She would never be the person she’d once been. Her scars would be her penitence. They would make her a monster to the children.

Worst of all, she’d be pitied. It was no less than she deserved. She’d survive and two fathers had not. She had no children to leave without a parent to love them. Nausea rolled over her. How could she expect Julian or her family to look at her again without flinching? God how she wished they’d left her to die in the fire.

“Do no’ ever let me hear you say something like that again,” Julian growled fiercely.

Her eyes opened at his low rumble of anger, and she realized she’d spoken out loud. Patience met Julian’s gaze, which was dark with emotion. Pity? The thought was unbearable. She tried to pull her hand free of his, but he held fast to her fingers. The strength of his grasp made her heart ache while giving her the courage to do what was necessary.

“Leave,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’m no’ going anywhere, Patience,” he said as he tightened his grip on her hand. “Everything will be all right.”

“Liar.”

The word was a soft condemnation, and Julian paled beneath her gaze. He was wrong. Nothing would ever be the same for her—or for him. Not only was she barren, she was now an object to be pitied. He was better off without her. Patience tugged at her hand, but Julian refused to let it go as a stubborn expression crossed his face. Angry that he refused to listen, she came up off her pillow to tugged viciously against his grip.

“I don’t want you here,” she cried out. The movement of her mouth tugged at the burns on her cheek, and a scream of pain escaped her.

Tears blurred her vision as the room erupted in a rush of sound. Her heart shattered as Julian did as she’d ordered and released her hand. Exhausted, Patience closed her eyes, barely hearing Julian’s harsh whisper as he argued with her aunt and Doctor Branson. Another voice joined the others, and she recognized Sebastian’s calm presence. Her brother would take care of everything. Sebastian always brought order to chaos. He would convince Julian to leave. The thought made Patience’s heart constrict painfully in her chest. She wanted to take back her words, but knew she couldn’t. It was the last thing she remembered as she slipped back into the depths from which she’d come.

Chapter 6

“She’s my wife. She belongs with me,” Julian exclaimed out with angry frustration.

“And she’s my sister,” Sebastian said with an implacable coldness and stubbornness reminiscent of Patience’s temperament. “I’m abiding by her wishes. Patience has made it clear she wants to remain here at Melton House.”

“For how long? It's been six months since the fire. She’s refused to see me since the day she—since the day she first woke up.”

“I’m sorry, Julian,” Sebastian said with a disgusted shake of his head. “Our coaxing her to change her mind only seems to make her all the more adamant in her refusal to see reason.”

“Aye, tis no’ a surprise,” he bit out. “She’s always been stubborn, but no more than I. If I thought it would help matters, I’d simply drag her out of the house and take her to Crianlarich.”

“I am glad to hear ye have no’ intention of doing something as foolish as that.”

Matilda Stewart eyed him with disapproval from her seat on the couch. Julian met the Scotswoman’s gaze and grimaced as her condemnation dissolved into sympathy. He didn’t want anyone’s commiseration. He wanted Patience to come home.

“Staying locked up in her room isn’t healthy,” Julian ground out.

“Don’t you think we know that?” His brother-in-law eyed him with irritation. “Aunt Matilda is the only one allowed in her room on a regular basis. She’s convinced herself she’s a monster people will run from.”

“Bloody hell,” Julian muttered with frustration. “I had no doubt her burns would leave her scarred, but no’ so bad as to have her believe that others will think her a monstrosity.”

“Her burns are disfiguring, but no’ to the extent she believes. Give the lass time, Julian. She’s been through far more than any of us could imagine. She still blames herself for Caleb and Devin’s deaths.” Matilda Stewart met his gaze with an expression of sympathy. He shook his head.

“She cannot continue to hide from the world or me. I don’t care what she looks like. I love her. I simply want her to come home so I can take care of her.” Julian heard the same amount of stubbornness in his voice that matched Patience’s, and Sebastian uttered a sound of frustration and sympathy.

“Your feelings for my sister are without question, but I have reason to believe Patience’s refusal to see you isn’t simply about her scars.” His brother-in-law pinched his nose and closed his eyes for a brief moment before meeting Julian’s gaze. “I don’t know—nor do I wish to know—what happened between the two of you before the fire, but she’s asked me to begin proceedings for a divorce.”

“I won’t give her up.” Julian’s hard-edged response made his brother-in-law nod in understanding.

“I didn’t think you would, which is why I’ve not done anything about it,” Sebastian said with a wry twist of his lips. Before he could say another word, the salon doors opened, and Percy strode into the room, his expression dour.

“Helen and I have managed to convince Patience to come out of her room.”

“Thank God,” Aunt Matilda said with a relieved sigh, while Sebastian and Julian stared at Patience’s brother in amazement.

“How the devil did you and my wife manage that miracle?” Sebastian asked with an open display of heartfelt relief. Julian didn’t bother to look at the patriarch of the Rockwood family as he studied Percy’s troubled expression.

“How did you convince her? Is she coming down now?” Julian asked as an overwhelming relief swept through him followed by an uneasy sensation.

He didn’t expect Patience to speak to him, but just seeing her again would be enough for the time being. Impatiently, he waited for his brother-in-law’s answer. The other man avoided looking at him, and Julian’s gut twisted with dread. One hand rubbing the back of his neck, Percy finally raised his head to look at Julian with a wary expression.

“She has a condition.” At Percy’s words an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“She’ll come out provided I’m not here.” Julian clamped down on his teeth until his jaw felt as though it would crack under the pressure. Percy grimaced as his gaze met Julian’s.

“Actually, she said you’re never to come here again.”

“Saints preserve us,” Patience’s aunt exclaimed in horror.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered as he looked in Julian’s direction.

The moment his brother-in-law shared Patience’s stipulation, Julian went rigid. Despite Patience’s rejection of him shortly after the fire, hope had kept him going over the last several months. But the condition she’d just tied to her agreement to leave her room had pulled the rug right out from beneath him.

“I’m sorry, Julian,” Percy said with obvious frustration. “We’ve been arguing with her for more than a week now. But God help me, she’s as obstinate as a mule.”

“I see you’ve told them,” the Countess of Melton said as she entered the salon. She looked directly at Julian with compassion and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Julian. I know we’ve been saying this for months, but I really do believe she simply needs time. The doctor says her reaction is not unusual, we simply need to be patient.”

Julian’s gaze flitted from one Rockwood to the next, before he stalked across the salon to one of the windows overlooking the street. Outside the avenue was busy with the day’s traffic, but all he could see were images of that terrible night. The images still had the power to make his muscles tighten and grow hard as a tree trunk.

The memory of the anguish and fear on Patience’s face as they’d all watched Devin and Caleb plummet to their deaths. Then her screams of grief and fear afterwards. The sound of her cries still echoed in his head whenever he thought about that night.

What had been all the more gut-wrenching had been the expression of surrender he’d seen on her face only seconds after her brother fell to his death. She’d been terrified, but resigned to dying like her brother. The memory of it made him fold his arms across his chest and dig his fingers into his biceps.

It had been his bullying that made her jump through the flames, but he wasn’t sure she’d forgive that or anything else he was guilty of. The thought filled him with a despair he’d not felt since the day his mother had died. If he lost Patience, life would hold little meaning for him. He turned to face the people he’d come to cherish as a part of his own family.

“If it means Patience will come out of her seclusion then I’ll abide by her wishes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“It will pass, Julian,” Aunt Matilda said quietly. “Patience is a strong woman, she will come around, and all will be well.”

“No,” he said with a vicious shake of his head. “Percy said it well, she is as stubborn as a mule, and I can no’ make her forgive me. I’ll leave and will no’ return unless she asks for me.”

With a nod, he walked toward the salon door. He had little doubt that his current state of unhappiness could have been avoided if he’d simply been honest with her. But he’d been so exhausted the day they’d argued, that he’d not been thinking clearly enough to realize Caitriona had only made him swear to not to tell her father. She’d not sworn him to keep the truth from anyone else.

He could have told Patience everything that day without really breaking his word to Caitriona. It would have stretched the boundaries of what was honorable, but at the moment he’d gladly give up everything he owned, including his honor, just to take his words back. His failure to stretch the confines of his vow had cost him everything he held dear. Every inch of him ached as if he’d been in a boxing match. A competition he’d lost. But he had lost. The only woman in the world he would ever love had condemned him to a prison he would never escape from unless she produced the key.

“Julian.” The manner in which Aunt Matilda called his name made him stop, but he didn’t turn around. Silk rustled quietly as the Scotswoman moved to his side to touch his arm. “The lass loves you. I’m certain of it.”

“Does she? She’s made her decision, and I will abide by it,” he said as the words ripped at his insides. Julian drew a harsh breath into his lungs and looked over his shoulder at Sebastian. “I have a condition of my own. I will never give her a divorce. I’ll fight it with everything I own.”

“I’ll make that quite clear to her, Julian.” Something akin to satisfaction crossed his brother-in-law’s face.

Nodding, Julian didn’t say another word, and left the room. In the hallway, he accepted his hat from Madison, the Rockwood butler. A brief whisper of sound made him jerk his head up as he saw Patience’s unusually slight figure in the dark shadows of the second floor landing. Christ Jesus, she’d lost weight. It was impossible to see her face in the shadows, and he longed to see her.

Without thinking, he crossed the floor to the staircase, his hand on the bannister as he put one foot on the steps. Her horrified gasp fluttered down to him, and in a flash of movement, she disappeared. Frozen in place, he heard the sound of a door slamming. He didn’t have to hear the grinding of a metal key to be certain she’d locked her door. Locked him out of her life for what he feared would be a lifetime. The thought was enough to bring him to his knees. His body rigid with pain, he walked out of Melton House leaving his heart behind him.

§ § §

The train rolled to a stop at the Crianlarich station. Jerking his bags down from the overhead rack, Julian threw open the car door and stepped down onto the narrow, roughly hewn platform. In front of him, craggy hills rose up above the forest that made up the rest of the landscape. The gray sky cast a pallor over the hills giving the land a stark appearance that was as ominous looking as it was hauntingly beautiful.

Whenever he came home to Scotland, he was always in awe of his country’s harsh, yet resplendent majesty. The few people who had gotten off the train with him had already begun their walk into the village. His gaze fell on the carriage that had been sent to bring him home. It carried him one step further away from Patience and one step closer to the man who’d help destroy his life.

The vehicle’s door swung open, and he saw the Laird of Crianlarich step out onto the road. Fergus MacTavish’s plain brown work kilt was offset by the MacTavish tartan fly plaid he wore on his shoulder. His father was a tall man, falling just shy of Julian’s own height. With his neatly trimmed, peppered beard and glengarry dipped low over his forehead, Fergus MacTavish was a handsome, but stern-looking, man. His stern, weathered features eased slightly as he directed a small smile at Julian.

“Tis good to have ye home, lad,” Fergus said as he shook Julian’s hand then gestured toward the carriage.

Julian quietly thanked Drummond, their driver, as he handed his bags off to the man. The longtime servant touched his cap in a deferential manner as he accepted the baggage. The vehicle’s interior was cramped, and seated across from his father, the combination of their long legs made it all the more confining.

The carriage rolled forward with a jerk, and Julian stared out the window. Why had he come back to Crianlarich Castle? Because the house he’d shared with Patience had become a tomb without her.

“I take it your wife will no’ be coming any time soon?”

“No,” he said crisply, unwilling to listen to the Crianlarich belittle Patience.

God, how he missed her. The memory of how she’d fled from him yesterday when he’d caught a glimpse of her on the second floor landing of Melton House still haunted him. He’d always loved Patience’s full curves and lush thighs. The silhouette he’d seen standing in the dim light of the second floor corridor was a mere shadow of the woman he’d married.

His father’s indiscretion, was why he was no longer with his wife. His jaw clenched as he remembered the lies he’d told Patience to protect Caitriona’s shame. He’d had a choice not to lie, but he’d done what he thought was the right thing at the time. It was difficult enough knowing the lies he’d told were one of the reasons Patience would never return to Crianlarich or the house they had shared in London.

If he’d not lied, he would have had a much better chance of convincing Patience of his innocence and that Una was a liar. He had no idea how the woman knew about his birthmark. Not even when he’d unleashed his wrath over her head more than a month after the fire had she offered up any explanation as to how she knew about the mark.

“Where’s your head, lad. I asked you a question.”

“My apologies, sir.” At his stilted reply, Fergus shook his head slightly.

“I asked how well Patience was mending?”

“What?” Julian stared at his father in amazement before he narrowed his gaze at The Crianlarich. “Since when did you give a damn about Patience?”

“I am no’ always a hard-hearted man, Julian,” Fergus said in a strained voice. “I might no’ have liked ye taking her as a bride, but I have never wished her harm.”

“I find that surprising, since you did your best to convince her that she wasn’t good enough for me,” he bit out as he glared at his father. The Crianlarich flinched before an implacable mask of stone hardened his features. Silence drifted between them for several moments as Julian returned his gaze to the landscape outside the carriage.

“I received a note from Lady Westbrook thanking me for the flowers I sent to her husband’s funeral. The fire was a terrible thing.” His father’s attempts at conversation puzzled him as he bobbed his head without looking at Fergus.

“And Patience’s scars? Are they—”

“Why this sudden interest in my wife, Crianlarich,” he snarled as he used one of his father’s less formal titles. He glared at the man who’d played a part in his unhappiness.

“Because ye are my son, and I know ye love the woman. I also know tis no’ been easy on ye or any of the Rockwoods. Two deaths and Patience’s injuries is no’ something to heal from quickly.”

“It’s hellish,” he said sharply. “The family has found it extremely difficult to deal with Caleb’s and Devin’s deaths as well as their concern about Patience.”

“I do no’ envy Lady Westbrook left alone tae raise her children,” his father said with a note of sorrow in his voice. “When I lost your mother, I did no’ know what tae do.”

“I doubt your cock remained soft for too long.” Julian’s crude comment made his father jerk his head back in astonishment before his face reddened in anger.

“I loved your mother, lad, and do no’ ye ever forget that,” the Crianlarich snarled. “Do no’ confuse love with a mon’s baser needs.”

A small nugget of regret lodged in Julian’s throat at the insult to his father before he remembered Caitriona. He gritted his teeth and jerked his gaze back to the passing scenery. Caitriona had loved her father deeply, and Bensmore had always doted on both his daughters.

In her confession to him, Caitriona had made it clear that Julian was never to tell her father about the child. She’d told Julian that she’d left home because she believed it would have killed her father to know what she’d done. Her worst fear had been what her father would say when he discovered the child’s father was Fergus MacTavish.

“How is the boy faring,” he asked quietly without looking at Fergus.

“He’s going to be a strapping lad just like his older brother.” There was a note of pride in his father’s voice that filled Julian with anger.

“You should have married her the moment you bedded her,” Julian said with outrage and disgust as he turned his head back to meet his father’s startled gaze. A split-second later, the Crianlarich narrowed his eyes at Julian.

“I did no’ pursue the lass,” Fergus said. “She entered my bed without invitation. I had no wish to marry again, and I told her that.”

“As I said your cock has no’ remained soft.”

“Caitriona did no’ tell me she was carrying my son. If she had, I would have done the honorable thing by her.” His father’s voice echoed belligerently in the air as he refused to accept any blame for what had happened to Caitriona.

“And have you told Bensmore the truth?” At the question, Fergus moved uncomfortably in his seat.

“Tis been hard enough on the mon, losing Caitriona. I see no need to add tae his pain.”

“In other words, you have no’ had the courage to tell him you were the one who sullied her, left her with child then abandoned her.”

“I did no’ abandon Caitriona. I did no’ know the lass was with child until ye sent the bairn to Crianlarich with the letter that I was the father,” Fergus said indignantly. “I have done my duty by the child.”

“But no’ to Bensmore. The man deserves to know his grandson,” Julian said between clenched teeth.

“Ye can tell him the truth,” Fergus said with a crafty look. Julian glared at him.

“You know damn well I gave my word to Caitriona no’ to tell her father.”

“And yet ye had no problem breaking ye word when it came to telling me the boy was mine,” his father sneered.

“Caitriona did no’ ask me to hide the truth from you—only her father, and I’ll no’ break my word to her. But you’re a coward for no’ telling the man the truth.” Julian’s scorn made his father’s face grow dark with the rage.

“Do no’ judge me, boy. Tis better that Robert believe Caitriona and her child died in childbirth. The mon has been humiliated enough.”

“And what about Aiden? Has Bensmore not even questioned Aiden’s sudden arrival at Crianlarich Castle?”

“I told him the child is yours and Patience’s. He thinks ye sent the boy here because of the fire and Patience injuries.”

“You did what?” he snarled.

Julian stared at his father with raw fury. The bastard had no shame. Worse, he’d made Patience a pawn in his charade. He wanted to wrap his hands around his father’s throat and squeeze until the man was on the brink of death.

“I thought it a perfect solution,” Fergus shrugged. “Ye and your wife have yet to have a child, but Bensmore and everyone else do no’ know that.”

“And what do I tell Patience? Do you really think she’ll accept the child as her own?” Julian ground out with the fury he’d only ever wielded over Una’s head for her part in destroying his marriage.

“Aye, for all her lack of Scottish blood, she loves you,” the Crianlarich said with confidence. “She’ll take the babe as her own.”

Disgusted by his father’s actions and lies, Julian stared out the window once again. How in the hell was he supposed to explain his father’s lie to Patience? What would it do to her when she learned everyone believed her to be the mother of Caitriona’s and her father-in-law’s baby? A child she might think was his. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

When Caitriona had begged him not to tell Bensmore who her lover had been, Julian had instinctively known she was pleading with him to tell no one about the baby. But she’d only been explicit about her father, not anyone else. The morning he’d returned home, he’d not been thinking straight. Lack of sleep had made him take his oath to Caitriona so literally. But it could not be undone. He’d not shared everything with Patience, and it exposed him for the fool that he was, and his stupidity had come at a steep price.

Julian grimaced at the thought. He’d accused her of not being able to trust him, and yet he’d repaid the debt in kind by lying to her. Even worse was the havoc Una had added to the wretched mess. His jaw hardened at the thought. Not even when he’d confronted the woman had she been remorseful. Instead, she’d scornfully dismissed Patience and suggested that he divorce her and take a true Scottish wife. That Una had actually thought he would do such a thing reinforced his anger and disgust for his father. The Crianlarich had filled Una’s head with hopes of one day being Mistress of Crianlarich. Una’s successful attempt to destroy his marriage revealed the woman would go to great lengths to achieve her goal.

The carriage wheel hit a deep rut in the road, and it jogged Julian out of his thoughts. He glanced out the window opposite his seat. They were on the narrowest stretch of road leading to the castle. On his father’s side of the carriage, the byway bordered a drop off of almost a hundred feet. Across from him, Fergus uttered a low growl as he leaned forward to stick his head out the window.

The Crianlarich shouted at Drummond, but before Fergus could retreat back into the cabin, one of the wheels at the back of the carriage cracked loudly. The wheel wobbled violently in a manner that made the vehicle teeter precariously toward the edge of the small cliff. Outside, the horses were whinnying loudly, while Drummond called out to them in a voice filled with fear.

“Father, move to this side of the carriage,” Julian snapped as the vehicle tilted further toward the cliff.

The Crianlarich moved quickly to do as Julian ordered, but his shift in position destabilized the vehicle more. With a loud screech of wood and metal, the carriage tumbled off the short craggy incline. He heard his father cry out while the horses screamed in terror. Instinct made Julian brace himself against the wall of the vehicle as it rolled downward.

Tossed to the opposite side of the carriage, his head slammed against the side of the wall that had been pierced by a large rock. The moment his head hit the granite he could have sworn someone had taken an ax to his skull. Patience’s face filtered through his pain to hover in front of him like a shimmering light. In that brief moment, he thanked God she wasn’t with him. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.

Shouts echoed in the distance, and Julian slowly regained consciousness. He had no idea how long he’d been senseless. Opening his eyes, he realized it was nighttime. The moon had to be behind the clouds as there wasn’t a single drop of light in the carriage making it impossible to see his father. Julian touched his throbbing forehead and suppressed a groan. The knot on his head was the size of a large egg, and there was blood from a cut close to his temple. Christ Jesus, his head hurt. A sharp pain radiated from below his knee which was trapped beneath his other leg. The moment he straightened the leg, pain streaked up it with the force of a hammer blow.

“Fuck,” he snarled as he slammed his fist into his upper thigh and waited for the knifelike sensation in his calf to ease.

Julian hovered on the edge of consciousness for a moment before the pain dissipated to a persistent stabbing sensation. The tension in his body slowly abated, and a slow breath of relief rolled past his lips. He didn’t need a doctor to know his leg was broken. Julian uttered another oath as he stretched out his hand to search for his father in the darkness.

“Father, are you all right?”

After groping for several seconds, his hand found the Crianlarich’s arm. Gently, he squeezed his father’s shoulder. He tried to shift his position, but this time it was his head that protested with a vicious stab of pain. The voices were almost at the shattered vehicle, and Julian realized he’d fainted again. Furious that his body wasn’t cooperating with his desire to move, Julian steeled himself for more pain as he reached out to touch his father. His fingers brushed the side of his father’s face, and he tapped him lightly on the cheek.

“Father, answer me,” he snapped. He smacked harder at the Crianlarich’s face. The instant he did so, his father’s head lolled to one side, and Julian drew in a sharp breath of shock. Despite their differences, Julian loved his father. It seemed inconceivable that he might truly be gone.

“Crianlarich, Mr. MacTavish, are ye all right?”

“Who’s there?” His leg protested viciously the instant he shifted his position. Pain pulled a loud grunt from him as he struggled to remain conscious. In the back of his mind, he tried to understand why the man didn’t have a light.

“Do ye no’ recognize me, Mr. MacTavish? It’s Croft. Ainsley is with me too.”

“How badly is my father injured?” he asked hoping his initial assessment was wrong.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Croft hesitated, before his tone shifted to one of sympathy and regret. “The Crianlarich has met his maker.”

Julian closed his eyes at the words as grief dug into his senses. It penetrated his physical pain to lash at his heart. Frozen in place, it was as if someone had suspended him in the bleakest of nights with the realization he was the new Crianlarich. The thought only reinforced the fact that his father was dead, and grief tugged at him again. He pushed his sorrow aside as he remembered the driver of the carriage.

“Drummond. Is he all right?”

“Aye, Crianlarich, but he has a broken arm and a gash on his leg, which needs stitching.”

Julian nodded and suppressed a sound of pain as he tried to find a more comfortable position to recline in.

“Sir, we need to get you out of the carriage,” Croft said.

“My leg is broken,” he said hoarsely as his every word sent pain jabbing through his forehead to the back of his head. “You’ll need a board. I can no’ walk or ride.”

“Right. Ainsley go tae the castle and fetch help.”

“And bring lights,” Julian snarled through his pain. “How the devil were you able to see anything out on the moors at this time of night?”

“Night, sir?” Puzzlement mixed with worry in Croft’s words.

“Yes, night. I can no’ see a damn thing in this infernal darkness.” Julian frowned with anger. Was the man daft for being on the moors without a lantern when it was so dark? Deep inside, the whisper of something insidious slithered its way through him.

“What time is it?” Julian demanded.

“Tis a little after four, sir.”

“In the morning?” he snapped unwilling to believe what the voice in the back of head was suggesting.

“No, sir,” Croft said in a worried voice. “Tis the afternoon. Ainsley and I were out on the moor when we saw the carriage roll off the road.”

“Four in the afternoon…” Julian growled like a wounded animal.

With a growing sense of doom, he roughly rubbed his eyes hoping to erase the black abyss that had replaced his vision. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was darkness. Anger and fear weighed against his chest with the heaviness of a tree trunk. Desperately, he struggled to suppress the shout of fury rumbling in his chest.

The result was a low groan of pain breaking free from his lips. It barely eased the tightness in his chest, but it hid the dread rising inside him. Eyes closed again, he willed himself to obliterate the darkness. When Julian opened his eyes to nothing but blackness another cry of rage rose up in his chest. He was blind.

Shock wrapped its arms tightly around him causing him to go rigid as he fought to contain the rising stem of dread. Panic struck deep at the core of him. He pushed back against the terror as he rationalized the reason for his blindness. The only blood was from the gash on his temple. It was obvious his eyes themselves were uninjured. That left his head injury as the only logical reason for his blindness. A temporary blindness he told himself, despite a growing fear that it might not be temporary at all.

Croft seemed to understand he had no desire to talk as they waited in silence for Ainsley to return with help. Images of Patience filled Julian’s head, and once more he experienced gratitude that she hadn’t been with him. The thought of her suffering more injuries or perhaps even death made him choke back bile. Would she be worried about him if she learned of the accident?

Suddenly he remembered her vision of a spinning carriage wheel and fire. Twice the an dara sealladh, had shown her disaster, and yet both accidents had been unpreventable. For a second time he was grateful she wasn’t with him. She blamed herself for Caleb’s and Devin’s death. She might easily blame herself for this accident as well. Muireall would want to send word to Patience, but he wouldn’t let her. Patience had paid enough in pain and suffering, he refused to add to her pain. Julian wasn’t sure how long they waited, and at the sound of approaching voices, he experienced a small measure of relief.

“Julian,” his half-sister’s voice filtered through his pain, and he frowned. “Julian, are you all right? Is father all right?”

“Damn it, Muireall, what are you doing here,” he snarled not wanting her to see their father’s body like this. “Croft, get her out of here. Now.”

Muireall protested vehemently and suddenly he caught the scent of heather and lavender breezing into the broken carriage. Her dissension quickly became a wail of sorrow. Furious that he’d been unable to shield her from the truth a little longer, he shot upright in an attempt to grab her hand. When he found nothing but air, the pain wracking his body slammed through him like a fast-moving train. A fraction of a second later, he lost consciousness.

Chapter 7

“Julian.”

Patience screamed his name as she awoke and jerked upright in her chair. The book in her lap fell to the floor as the fire crackled in the fireplace. Running feet pounded against the marble floor of the foyer announcing Percy before he even charged into the morning room. Her gaze met her brother’s who moved quickly to her side. As he knelt in front of her, she turned her scarred cheek away. Gently, he turned her head toward him and brushed tears off both sides of her face. Startled by the touch, she realized she’d been crying.

“Another dream?” Percy asked gently.

The worried frown on his face made Patience wince. The doctor had said her nightmares about the fire would eventually fade with time. He’d even said the one or two instances when she’d walked in her sleep would run its course. But this dream had not been about the fire.

This time they’d been filled with nothing but images of Julian lying in a dark space with his leg bent beneath him in an awkward fashion. Was it a dream or a vision? It was impossible to tell the difference any more. She swallowed the knot of pain that had quickly formed in her throat and shook her head.

“I’m fine. Dr. Branson said it would take time for the nightmares to disappear.”

The soft whisper of feminine footsteps moving quickly across the main entryway made Patience turn her head to see Louisa enter the room. Dressed in mourning black, her sister’s life with Devin had been a good one, and she had been desolate since that terrible night. Now as she met her sister’s gaze, Patience experienced guilt at causing Louisa worry. The youngest of the Rockwood siblings hurried to the settee and sat down next to her. She clasped Patience’s hand in hers and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort.

“Another one?”

The concern in her sister’s voice made Patience nod. The fire in the hearth suddenly crackled and popped loudly. Patience jumped violently at the sound, and Percy quickly moved to the fireplace to spread out the coals in an effort to deaden the sound the flames created. She was certain it was his attempt to alleviate any possible reminder of the fire for all three of them.

“I’m fine,” Patience said softly as she gently pulled her scarred hand free of Louisa’s grasp.

She covered the marred flesh with her other hand while dipping her head slightly in an effort to minimize the scars her sister could see on her face. Patience wanted to spare her sister as much pain as possible. Her burnt flesh was simply a reminder to Louisa that her husband was dead and Patience wasn’t.

“Don’t,” Louisa said sharply as she uncovered Patience’s scarred hand. “Don’t you ever be ashamed of those scars, Patience Rockwood MacTavish. If it weren’t for you and Caleb, the family would have lost our future that night. Devin would say the same thing to you if he were here. Our children were more important to him than life itself.”

Patience’s eyes widened with surprise as she met her youngest sister’s fierce gaze. There was deep pain in Louisa’s hazel eyes. But the strength displayed on her lovely features was an expression she knew well. It was same look Patience had witnessed on the faces of her entire family as each of them had dealt with their grief over the past nine months.

Yet despite Louisa’s reprimand, Patience found it unbearable to look in the mirror. Last week in an effort to stop Sebastian’s badgering, she’d ventured out with her brother for a morning ride. They’d rode out just after dawn, but their effort to avoid people had been to no avail, and it had proven painfully obvious why she should never go out in public.

Several family acquaintances had been out as well, and despite the netting attached to her riding hat, she’d endured looks of horror and revulsion. But it was the looks of pity that had made her withstand Sebastian’s growing insistence that she ride with him again. From the fireplace, Percy cleared his throat as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“Several of us were wondering—”

“Patience, I’m planning on going with Aunt Matilda to Callendar Abby in a few weeks,” Louisa interrupted with a nasty glare at their brother. “I hope you’ll reconsider going with us. We’re taking Greer, Alma, and Braxton with us.”

“We’ve discussed this before. I’m content where I am,” Patience said as she cast a glance in Percy’s direction before looking back at her sister.

It was obvious the family thought she should go to Scotland, but there were two reasons why she refused to do so. The first was that the journey meant being out in public where she’d be the subject of scrutiny no matter how much she tried to cover her scars. Secondly, Crianlarich was little more than an hour north of the abbey. She had no intention of enduring the possibility of Julian coming to visit her aunt.

“It will be good for you, Patience,” her brother said in a coaxing voice.

“I’m quite happy here.”

“Louisa could use the help, and you know the children adore you. They don’t care about your scars any more than the rest of us do. We all love you.”

Her brother’s blunt words made her flinch. She averted her gaze as she struggled with the idea that her family members might really not care about her disfigurements. Patience swallowed hard at Percy’s words. Perhaps it was time to accept herself as she was. Her throat tightened. No, her family might see past her scars, but society would not, and the thought of going out of the house was almost paralyzing.

“I’ve given you my decision. I no longer wish to discuss the matter,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice. Percy could plead all he wanted, but she had no intention of going to Callendar Abby.

“Are you afraid?”

Percy’s confrontational question told her that he knew precisely why she refused to go to her aunt’s Scotland estate. Tension tugged painfully at the scarred skin on her cheek while her hand ached as the stiff scars protested as her hand tightened into a fist. Patience tried to relax in an effort to ease her discomfort as she narrowed her gaze at her brother.

“No, but Julian might take it in his mind to call on Aunt Matilda, and I have no wish to see him.”

“For the love of God, Patience,” her brother exclaimed angrily. “When are you going to forgive the man for whatever wrong he’s done you?”

“Whatever happened between Julian and me is our affair and no one else’s, Percy,” she said coldly as she rose to her feet. “But I have my reasons. Good reasons.”

Regret swept across her brother’s features, but she ignored his obvious remorse and walked out of the morning room. With each passing day, one family member or another gently pressed her to reconcile with Julian. She resisted vehemently, not because she couldn’t forgive him.

Patience had forgiven Julian his small lie and accepted how important his honor was to him. It made her heart ache for not believing him. She’d allowed the Crianlarich and Una to make her question Julian’s faithfulness. But what kept her from going to him was the thought of being the recipient of his pity. Even if he still loved her, it would be impossible for him not to feel pity for her. Worse, he might view her and their marriage as one of duty.

She’d already earned more than her fair share of pitying looks. The burns from the fire had left horrific scars on her arm, parts of her leg, and her cheekbone had been burned back to her ear. She was grateful that she’d not suffered the loss of hair. But the last thing she wanted was for Julian to see her like this. It would be unbearable, particularly when there was the possibility of seeing Una.

Compared to the woman’s beauty, she would look like a beast if she were ever in Una’s company again. Her stomach lurched at the thought. She had no wish to suddenly face the Crianlarich or Una and become the target for their ridicule or pity. Patience winced as she crossed the floor to the main staircase. She paused at the foot of the stairs, acknowledging the fear that held her paralyzed for a brief moment.

It had taken time for her to go up and down the stairs without the vivid memory of fire engulfing the staircase of Westbrook Farms. The memory of being trapped had proven crippling on more than one occasion. She started up the stairs and winced as the tight scars on her leg were forced to stretch with her movements. She’d been lax in her exercises and was paying the price.

Behind her, she heard the door knocker hitting the metal plate on the front door. A streak of panic spread through her. She never accepted callers, and always hid when someone arrived at Melton House. Ignoring the pain in her leg, Patience moved quickly up the stairs as Madison opened the front door. She was halfway to the second floor when she heard a voice pleading with the family retainer.

“Please, I need tae see Mrs. MacTavish.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but Mrs. MacTavish is not receiving callers.”

“Oh please. Tis verra important. I can no’ leave without seeing her.”

The soft lilting brogue filled Patience’s ears and her heart stopped. Slowly, she turned to see Muireall attempting to push past the stalwart servant. Her sister-in-law was almost seventeen, and Patience drew in an appalled breath that Muireall stood on the doorstep without a chaperone.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was Julian waiting outside and had sent his sister in as an emissary? Conflicted as to what to do, Patience stared down at the small altercation at the door. The moment Percy and Louisa emerged from the morning room, Patience made up her mind before her siblings did so for her.

“It’s all right, Madison. This is my sister-in-law. You may let her in.”

No sooner had she given the order than Muireall pushed her way past the butler with the rough strength only available to the young. The girl charged forward as Patience slowly descended the stairs. Muireall’s eyes widened in horror the moment she saw the scars on Patience’s face. Unable to help herself, she flinched in the face of the girl’s dismay. Tears formed in the girl’s eyes, and as Patience reached the foot of the stairs, Muireall raced forward to fling herself into Patience’s arms. The girl didn’t say a word. She simply clung to Patience in a silent message of sympathy for what Patience had suffered. Gently, she pushed her sister-in-law away from her and wiped the tears from the girl’s cheeks.

“Enough tears, sweetheart. Where is…who’s with you?” If she’d said Julian’s name everyone would hear the tears in her voice.

“No one,” Muireall said with a contrite expression before she frowned. “Julian would no’ have let me come.”

Louisa’s gasp of dismay matched her own consternation as well. Percy uttered something unintelligible beneath his breath. Despite her appalled reaction, she experienced great relief that Muireall had arrived at Melton House unharmed.

“Come, we’ll go into the morning room.” Patience looked at the butler, whose face was one of fatherly disapproval and concern for the girl. “Madison, would you see to it that someone brings a tray into the morning room. Also, please arrange for a telegram to be sent immediately to Crianlarich Castle. Let Mr. MacTavish know his sister has arrived here safely, and we will send her home tomorrow with a chaperone.”

“Of course, Lady Patience,” Madison said

As Patience guided the girl past her siblings, Percy touched her arm in a silent question, and she shook her head. Whatever had possessed the girl to come here alone, it had to be important, and she knew Muireall’s actions were connected to Julian in some way. Her heart constricted at the thought. Was Julian miserable without her? The thought warmed and pained her at the same time.

“When did you last eat?” Patience wrapped her arm around the girl’s waist as they walked toward the morning room.

“Cook gave me porridge this morning before Julian was up. I told her I was going to Callendar for the day as I have a friend there,” Muireall said with an expression of satisfaction at her ingenuity before she grimaced. “Although I did no’ expect the train to take so long to reach here. Julian will worry when I do not return home.”

“The telegram Madison sends will reassure everyone at Crianlarich that you’re safe,” Patience said in a soothing voice.

“He will no’ be happy with me,” the girl said with a troubled frown furrowing her brow.

“I should think not,” Patience said as she chastised her young sister-in-law. “What if something terrible had happened to you on the way here? Julian would miss you terribly. I would miss you.”

“You would?” The disbelief in Muireall’s voice made Patience frown in puzzlement.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Because you never came back to Crianlarich,” Muireall said in an injured tone.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but it was difficult for me.” She didn’t know what else to say without speaking ill of Muireall’s father. “But you did come to spend a month with us last spring.”

Us. Just saying that word made Patience think of happier times. Muireall reached out to touch Patience’s hand.

“I know my father was no’ kind to you, Patience, but everyone in the castle loves you. Julian most of all.” The moment Muireall mentioned Julian’s feelings for her, Patience pulled her hand back. With a shake of her head, she quickly tried to change the topic.

“When you arrived, you made it sound urgent that you see me.”

“Aye,” Muireall nodded as a look of deep sorrow darkened her sweet features. “I know Julian would be furious, but I can no’ bear to see him suffering.”

“Muireall, if you—”

“No, you do no’ understand,” her sister-in-law said fiercely. “There was an accident. My father…he was killed…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dearest,” Patience exclaimed softly as she caught Muireall’s hand in hers and leaned forward to press a kiss against the girl’s forehead.

“I know he was a hard man, but he loved us, and I miss him,” Patience’s sister-in-law said quietly before she shook her head. “But it is Julian. He was in the carriage, too.”

“Carriage?” she barely breathed the words, and she could feel the blood draining from her cheeks.

Her heart slammed to a stop in her chest before it began to race inside her breast. The an dara sealladh. The images of carriage wheels spinning madly in the air filled her head. She’d seen both the fire and Julian’s accident, but had been helpless to stop either one. Patience suddenly felt light-headed, but the dizziness passed after a few seconds. She focused her gaze on her sister-in-law.

“When did it happen?”

“A little less than three months ago. It happened the day he returned to Crianlarich.”

“Why didn’t he…” she whispered as a chill spread across Patience’s skin. He believed she didn’t care what happened to him.

“I knew Julian was wrong. You do still care for him.” Satisfaction brightened Muireall’s face as she squeezed Patience’s hand. “You must come home to Crianlarich.”

“I…it’s not quite that simple, Muireall,” she stumbled over her words as her sister-in-law’s expression mirrored one she’d seen many times on Julian’s face. Despite having two different mothers the brother and sister possessed the same stubborn nature.

“Julian needs you, Patience. He was hurt.”

“How?” she whispered hoarsely.

“He’s blind.”

Muireall’s quiet reply made Patience grateful she was seated as a tremor rocked her body. It was the worst thing that could happen to a man like Julian. He would be unable to function without someone’s aid, and if there was one thing her husband didn’t like it was feeling helpless. She recalled the instance shortly after they’d married when he had slipped on the stairs and sprained his ankle.

During that short time of healing, a lion would have been easier to manage than Julian’s frustration at not being able to do things for himself. No one had been spared his sharp tongue, not even her. She grimaced at the thought. The soft clink of china announced one of the maids arriving with Muireall’s luncheon tray. Patience gestured for the servant to set it on the coffee table, and thanked the woman. Her gaze returned to Muireall’s hopeful expression.

“Eat your lunch.”

“Will you come home with me?” Once again Muireall’s persistence illustrated how much she was like her brother. Patience could only assume their headstrong nature was a trait they’d received from their father.

“I shall consider it. In the meantime, I want you to eat,” Patience said firmly. “I need to ensure that telegram to your brother has been sent.”

“He’s dismissed several nurses and the last one only lasted a week, Patience. He needs you more than you know.”

“I said I shall consider it. Now eat.” At her instruction, Muireall nodded and leaned forward to pick up a plate. She stopped and turned her head toward Patience. “I am sorry for your loss, Patience, and I’m sorry you suffered so terribly.”

“Thank you, Muireall. Now stop dawdling and eat. I’ll return shortly.”

Patience choked out her words as her throat closed up with tears. She quickly stood up and headed toward the morning room door. She had just reached the door when Muireall called out to her.

“Julian says you’re the bravest woman he’s ever known.” Muireall’s words wrapped themselves around her heart and squeezed it tightly. “I believe him. Your scars prove it.”

Patience responded with a sharp nod then pulled the morning room door closed behind her. With her back pressed into the wood door, she closed her eyes for a brief moment. What was she going to do? Did she have the courage to go to him? Would he even want her? Julian thought she’d sent him away because she believed him unfaithful. How could she explain the real reason and her own lie? He would be justified in throwing her out the door of Crianlarich Castle.

“Well?” Percy’s voice echoed quietly in the foyer and her eyes flew open to see her brother studying her from the salon doorway. “What did she have to say?”

“Julian’s been hurt.” Patience started forward, her body feeling wobbly and weak.

“Good God,” her brother exclaimed in a low voice. “Is he all right?”

“He’s blind.” Just saying the words made Patience’s stomach churn. Percy was across the foyer in seconds as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Come sit down before you faint.”

“I’ll be fine,” Patience said with a shake of her head. But she didn’t object as her brother guided her into the main salon. As they entered the room, Louisa, her aunt and sister-in-law all stood up with expressions of curiosity.

“What’s happened?” her sister asked quietly.

“Julian and his father were in an accident the day Julian returned to Crianlarich. Muireall’s father is dead, and Julian is now blind.”

“Sweet heavens,” Aunt Matilda exclaimed as Helen and Louisa echoed her dismay.

“But why did Muireall wait until now to tell you?” Helen exclaimed in dismay. “And for that reason, why did she come to Melton House to tell you, when a telegram would have been easier?”

“She wants me to go home with her to Crianlarich,” Patience said softly. “She says Julian needs me.”

“What was your reply?” Louisa’s gaze was probing as she looked at Patience.

“I said I would consider it.” At her response the entire room was filled with a silence that she recognized as shocked surprise. Patience’s gaze scanned the faces of her family and grimaced. “I know I have been adamant about my refusal to see Julian, but this is different.”

“What you really mean is that when he wanted to remain at your side, you sent him away. You pushed him away because you thought he only wanted to stay and care for you out of pity and his sense of duty,” Louisa scolded her quietly. “And what if he thinks you’ve returned to him for the same reasons? How do you think he’ll react to that?”

“But I thought they had a fight before the—”

“For heaven’s sake, Percy, do be quiet,” Louisa snapped with irritation without bothering to look at their brother. Her sister narrowed her gaze at Patience. “Well, Patience?”

“He will be like a lion in a cage, ready to eat me alive. But I have no choice but to win his heart again.”

The moment her words drifted through the air, she knew she had made her decision. She would go to Crianlarich. While her task would be difficult, if Julian still cared for her as Muireall said, she would find a way to make him believe she loved him. The silence in the room lasted only a minute, before her brother exhaled a loud breath.

“About bloody damn well time,” Percy muttered. Louisa eyed him with annoyance before she moved forward to take Patience’s hand in hers.

“I think I can speak for the rest of the family when I say we’re relieved.”

“Aye, that we are,” Aunt Matilda said as she moved forward to kiss Patience’s cheek.

As she studied the expressions on her family’s faces, she shouldn’t have been surprised at their relieved expressions, but she was. They clearly believed she’d made the right choice, but she was far from certain of that. Julian could be even more stubborn than she was. Her heart rose up in her throat. He would fight her every step of the way when it came to her convincing him pity had nothing to do with her return. The thought made her wince, and Aunt Matilda squeezed her arm.

“Ye are a Rockwood, lassie,” the Scotswoman whispered in a reassuring tone. “Challenges are something we thrive on. The mon will never know what hit him.”

Patience turned her head to see a twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. For the first time since she’d made her decision, a small measure of confidence sought to suppress her uncertainty. Perhaps Aunt Matilda was right, but only time would tell.

Chapter 8

“Bloody hell,” Julian snarled as he hobbled to an abrupt stop and bent to rub his throbbing shin. Behind him, the sound of running feet made him quickly straighten upright. He turned toward the sound.

“Are ye all right, Julian?” Worry made his sister discard proper English as she came to a halt in front of him. He dismissed her question with a sharp wave of his hand mindful to keep the gesture as far above Muireall’s head as he could visualize. The last time he’d swung his arm outward, he’d hit her.

“I’m fine, lass,” he snapped, unwilling to admit what had just happened. His blundering only reinforced Muireall’s argument that he needed a nursemaid. It was a proposal he’d been fighting tooth and nail since the last nurse he’d discharged.

“You didn’t sound fine a moment ago.” The relief and irony in his sister’s response made his mouth twitch with a small smile despite his irritation at her escapade more than a week ago.

“No, I suppose not,” he said reluctantly as he fought to see Muireall’s face. Unable to do so, a furious frustration snaked its way through him until he wanted to hit something.

“What were you trying to do? Marry your leg to the chair behind you?”

“And why would you make that assumption?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Because the chair has been knocked a kilter,” his sister said with a sigh as she brushed past him to push the chair back into its normal position.

He tried to follow her movements, but all he saw was a slender black shape against the light gray landscape that was all that remained of his vision. Silently, he shouted with rage at his inability to see his sister’s face or the displaced chair that had betrayed his clumsy attempt at independence.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he growled.

Muireall’s adroit methods of staying out of earshot over the past week illustrated her awareness of his anger. But it also displayed a shrewd understanding on her part that time would ease his outrage. His sister had known he was furious, and she’d stayed out of his way until now.

“I knew you were angry with me,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I thought it best to wait for your anger to become irritation before I threw myself at your feet begging forgiveness.”

“You’ve a touch of the devil’s tongue, Muireall MacTavish,” he said with amusement before he frowned with disapproval. “You shouldn’t have gone to London without an escort.”

“What you mean is that I shouldn’t have gone to see Patience.”

Her impertinent tone made him look heavenward as if he could actually see heaven. But that realm had disappeared the day Patience had sent him away from Melton House. With the cane he’d been using to find his way around the castle, he searched for the chair his sister had adjusted. When the wood stick connected with the side of the chair, Julian sank down into the seat. With a sigh of frustration at his sister’s meddling, Julian rested both of his hands on the eagle-shaped metal cane top.

“You should not have gone. It is dangerous for a young woman to go to London without an escort,” he bit out with a trace of the fury he’d experienced when they’d received the telegram from Melton House. “Anything could have happened to you, Muireall. If you’d been hurt…you were reckless, and it’s not to happen again.”

“Don’t you want to know how Patience is?” The sly note in his sister’s voice made him twist his lips in a bitter smile.

“No, I do not.” It was a lie, but his pride wasn’t about to admit he wanted more than anything to hear everything his sister had to say about his wife.

“I asked her to come home.”

“You did what?” Without thinking, Julian was on his feet and reached out for his sister. His fingers bit down into soft shoulders, and he bent his head until he felt the warmth of her breath on his face. “How dare you interfere in something you know nothing about? If Patience wanted to come home, she would have done so long ago.”

“No, Julian. You haven’t seen her face. No woman would want her husband to see her with such scars. It has to be the reason she sent you away. She loves you. I saw it in her eyes. She loves you just as much as you love her.”

“Enough,” he snarled despite the way his gut wrenched at the thought of Patience not trusting him enough to love her no matter what she looked like. “Do no’ ever interfere in my affairs again.”

“Yes, Julian.” There was a note of trepidation in his sister’s voice and he stretched out his hand until his fingers touched a wet cheek.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said with a sigh of regret. “But you cannot fix people like you can a piece of broken furniture.”

“Well, she did say she would consider coming,” Muireall whispered with a small trace of defiance.

“And what makes you think I want her here?” Julian asked sharply. “I have no need of her pity.”

“But if she came, it wouldn’t be because she pitied you, Julian. She loves you.”

“I’m done with this conversation, Muireall. Do no’ interfere in this matter again. Is that understood?”

“Aye.” It was a clipped answer that indicated she was unhappy with his decision, but he knew she’d abide by his order. “But I do no’ regret asking her to come home.”

Julian snorted with mild disgust at his sister’s defiant reply. The sound of muffled voices in the foyer outside the library made him stiffen. Since the accident, he’d refused to accept callers. He had no use for anyone’s pity. Before he could speak, Muireall’s hand squeezed his arm before he could object to the visitors.

“Do no’ argue with me about this, Julian,” his sister said quietly.

In that split second, he knew his sister had arranged for another nursemaid candidate to come meet with his approval. He’d already rejected four previously, and the one nurse he’d agreed to hire had left after just one week. Julian knew it was his temper that had driven the older woman to leave, but he had little use for someone who treated him like a child.

“You’ve arranged for another nursemaid to come interview for a job.

“Aye,” Muireall said softly. “You will be nice to this lady, won’t you, Julian? Lorne has said you have been exceedingly rude to the other candidates.”

Although he appreciated the efforts of Muireall and his childhood friend, who now served as his estate manager, he knew it was an exercise in futility. There was only one woman he would even consider for the post, and the thought of her coming here out of pity filled him with anger. He had no need of her pity or her help. The thought that she would come at all almost made him snort with incredulity. Muireall squeezed his arm again in a silent plea.

“Aye,” he bit out with a sharp bob of his head. “I’ll be cordial.”

“Thank you,” his sister said quietly. There was an odd note in her voice that any other time he might have thought was excitement, but he dismissed it as her relief he’d agreed to be polite. With a grimace, he patted the small hand on his sleeve.

“Go see to our guest,” he said in a quiet voice.

“You promise to be nice?”

“I promise,” he said with a slight smile.

Interviewing another candidate was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew Muireall was deeply worried about him. Worse, he knew she was right, but he’d hoped his vision would have returned by now. In the first few weeks after the accident, his vision had gone from nothing but the stark darkness of a moonless night to the beginnings of shapes against a fuzzy white background.

The doctor had expressed optimism at the change, but at his last visit the man had indicated it was possible Julian’s vision would never return. It was one of the reasons he was unwilling to reject this latest candidate outright. As much as he resented the idea of relying on someone, it was time he thought of Muireall.

Losing their father had devastated her. Adding to her grief was the burden she’d taken on caring for him. She never complained, but it was too much to ask of her. She was a young girl who should be enjoying the attentions of suitors at a dance or visiting Edinburgh or London for a spring wardrobe. He was not a rich man, but he was more than capable of ensuring Muireall had a proper wardrobe.

As he heard his sister leave the room, Julian reached behind him to touch the chair that had gotten in his way. He wanted to throw it across the room. Instead, he leaned his cane against the back of the chair before he slowly skirted it and headed toward the wide expanse of windows that in his blindness resembled cloudy patches of white. He paused for a moment as he stumbled slightly next to the settee. His fingers skimmed the soft velvet upholstery until he found what he was looking for.

The pillow in his grasp, he visualized where best to place it. Moving into the open space between the settee and the large expanse of windows, he dropped the stuffed roll of fabric onto the floor. His foot noted where the pillow was then he counted off the steps to the window. Satisfied with the test he’d engineered, he faced the wide expanse of white that was his only view of the scenery beyond. In his mind, he saw the rolling moors stretched out in front of him.

There was a chill in the air today. It penetrated the glass to brush over his legs and hands despite the warmth of the room. No doubt the sun was hidden by clouds. It reflected his sullen mood. He heard the sound of someone entering the salon, but he didn’t move. Judgment day was at hand.

“Crianlarich—”

“Leave us, Lorne.” He didn’t allow his friend to finish his introduction. When he sensed his estate manager was about to object, Julian stiffened his back with displeasure. “Now.”

“As you wish,” Lorne said quietly.

The sound of his friend retreating from the main salon left silence in his wake. It hung thick and heavy in the air. With his back to the woman his sister had brought in for an interview, he heard the soft rustle of silk as if she’d shifted her weight where she was standing. It made him think she might be nervous or intimidated by him. The thought gave him satisfaction. At least he still possessed the ability to unsettle people despite his affliction.

“Sit.” The harshness of his command cracked through the air.

“I prefer to stand.”

Patience. He froze, suddenly unable to move. Why had she come? Muireall. His sister’s pleas had made his wife feel obliged to return to him. Julian clamped down on his jaw until it ached as he slowly turned to face his wife.

“What do you want, Patience?”

He heard a small sound escape her, and he frowned. Was his work kilt or jacket askew? With great restraint, he prevented himself from tugging at his jacket. He stared at the dark, softly-curved shape against the light gray background in front of him. When he considered the wraith in the shadows of Melton House, it pleased him to know her curves had returned. He immediately scoffed at himself for caring. Julian saw what must have been her arm move as if she had pressed her hand to her throat.

“I…I thought…”

“That I might need your pity?” he lashed out with a bitterness he’d kept locked up inside him over the last three months.

“No,” she exclaimed softly. “I came to tell you I was wrong, Julian.”

“Wrong?” he sneered. “What pray tell were you wrong about, madam?”

“I should have believed you and not…Una.” Simple and clear, her words rang out across the space between them. For almost a year he’d long to hear her say those words, and yet now, they seemed hollow.

“I have no need for your apologies, Patience,” he said in clipped tones.

“But you do have need of my help.” The quiet determination in her voice sent a surge of anger coursing through his veins.

“You’re mistaken. I can see well enough to move around quite easily,” he lied in a cold voice as he strode forward intent on sending her on her way.

“Stop,” she exclaimed. Startled, Julian stopped in his tracks while keeping his features hard and inflexible as he glared in her direction.

“What?” he snarled.

“There’s a pillow directly in your path,” she said quietly. “If you continue forward you’ll trip and wind up sprawled on the floor like a newborn foal.”

Julian scowled as he realized he’d forgotten about his test for the candidate he’d been expecting. Patience was the first one who’d passed it. None of the other candidates had ever thought to give him oral commands. They’d all rushed to his aid as if he was a child incapable of doing anything on his own. But then Patience was his wife.

She knew him well enough to know he would never tolerate being treated like that. Julian strode straight to where he’d left the pillow and kicked it to one side then closed the distance between them. The soft lilac scent she wore was a familiar one, and he breathed in the sweetness of her. God help him, she smelled wonderful. It took every ounce of self-restraint he possessed not to pull her into his arms. Patience wasn’t to be trusted. She was here simply because she felt pity for him. She’d said she believed in his innocence, yet it was all too easy for her to say what she thought he might want to hear.

Desperately, he tried to see her face, but it was nothing more than a round shadow in front of him. Despite his determination not to touch her, the urge to stroke her cheek was strong. He stretched out his hand to her. Even though it had only been three months since the accident, his other senses were already compensating for his lack of sight, and he heard the sharp intake of her breath. He could almost feel the tremor that shook her body before she recoiled from him.

Raw fury barreled through him. She’d said she’d been wrong not to believe him, and yet she still found him repulsive. The last time he’d been near her she’d called him a liar, but she was the liar. She was here out of duty and pity, nothing more. It was the one thing he didn’t need from her. He wanted nothing from her at all. A mocking laugh echoed in the back of his head. He straightened.

“Leave, Patience. There’s nothing for you here.”

“I’m not leaving, Julian. You’re my husband. I belong here—with you.”

“Go or stay, it matters no’ to me,” he said in an icy voice.

“Then I choose to stay.”

“As you wish.” Julian shrugged then stepped around her intent on picking up his cane from where he’d left it at the chair. She didn’t move as he found the stick and headed toward the door.

“Julian.”

The melodious sound of her voice caressed his ear just as her lips had done in the past. He wanted to strangle her for the way she could make his body respond to her so easily. Ignoring her, he continued making his way toward the door of the library.

“Damn you, Julian MacTavish, don’t you dare walk away from me. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to come here?” Her words made him come to an abrupt halt and he whirled around to face her.

“If you came seeking redemption, you’ll not find it here, Patience.”

“I came to Crianlarich Castle because I wanted to, not because I had to.”

“Then your trip was a waste of time,” he said with open hostility.

“You forget how stubborn I am, Julian.” The determination in her voice made him lock his jaw in anger.

“I’ve forgotten neither your stubbornness nor your request for a divorce,” he sneered. “I suggest you return to London and have your attorney draw up the papers. I’ll sign them as soon as they’re delivered.”

Patience’s gasp held what might have been a note of pain, but he ignored it. The idea that he might have hurt her with his agreement to give her what she wanted wasn’t worth a second thought. Without another word, he walked out of the library and lurched his way to the staircase. He was almost at the top of the stairs when Muireall called out to him from below.

“Julian, where are you going?”

“To my room,” he snarled. “Thanks to your damned interference, ‘tis the only place I can go where I will no’ be nagged by a wife who’s suddenly developed a conscience where I’m concerned.”

Julian didn’t wait for his sister’s response. He simply turned and made his way down the hallway to his room. What the hell had his sister been thinking to ask Patience to come here? His cane beat a harsh rhythm as he walked along the corridor. When the tip of his cane connected with his bedroom door, he fumbled slightly as his hand sought to find a firm grip on the doorknob.

With a violent push, he thrust the door open, and it crashed backward into the wall with a loud crack. The swish of air it made as it bounced back in his direction made Julian raise his hand to stop the door from hitting him. He stepped deeper into the room and took immense pleasure in slamming the door shut behind him.

“Damn her,” he said with a bitterness that had been slowly eating away at him for months until he no longer cared whether he lived or died.

He’d been dying in bits and pieces since the day his marriage had fallen apart. The fire a few days later had only made matters far worse. For two weeks, he’d not left Patience’s side. She’d drifted in and out of consciousness, but he’d refused to leave her. At times she’d seemed to hear his voice, and her hand always tightened around his just before she sank back into her drug-induced sleep.

But it had been those moments when Dr. Branson had changed her bandages that her hand had gripped his so tightly. It had made him believe she needed him. He’d been wrong. It had simply been the response of a woman in pain. When he’d heard her call him a liar through her agony, he’d realized he might never hear her heartbeat against his chest again.

Julian staggered his way toward the chair in front of the fire and sank down into it. Patience’s refusal to leave Crianlarich meant he’d find few places where he could avoid hearing her voice or breathing in her delicious scent or worse stumbling into her exquisite curves. That would be the worst possible thing, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off her.

Julian snorted at the thought. He would have no problem keeping his distance from her. All he had to do was remember how she’d recoiled from him earlier. That memory alone would keep him from touching her. Once more a mocking laugh echoed in the back of his head. He ignored the way the voice reminded him that he was a liar.

With a grunt, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He could feel the beginnings of one of the headaches that occurred regularly since the accident. Even his fully healed leg ached. That was something that would never go away the doctor had said despite the way the bone had knitted together so well. The ache was something he could deal with rather than the pain from a constant limp. He was fortunate where his father had not been.

The memory of his father came with a mixture of regret and resentment. The Scotsman had been a hard man to love. Things had only been made worse by his adamant rejection of Patience as Julian’s bride. He’d never understood why his father had opposed his marriage so stridently, but it mattered little now. His marriage had fallen apart just as Fergus MacTavish had always maintained it would. His temple had begun to throb more insistently, and Julian forced himself to relax in an effort to reduce the strength of the headache. His last thoughts before he dozed off were of Patience’s laughter and her sparkling eyes.

§ § §

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when the persistent knock on his door pierced his consciousness.

“Come,” he commanded in a sharp tone.

The sound of the door opening was proceeded by the clinking of china. Was it dinner time already? No sooner had the question popped into his head than the clock on the mantel began to chime. The chime ended on the eighth ring, and he realized he’d missed dinner.

“Muireall, is that you?”

The only reply was the sound of his dinner tray scraping softly across the table Muireall had arranged to be placed at the window. The smell of succulent roast beef made his mouth water. A moment later, the door to his bedroom closed, and he frowned. Muireall generally remained behind in case there was something he wanted. With a grunt of irritation, he rose from his chair to move to the table. Seated in front of his plate, he picked up his fork to stab at a piece of the beef. Where he’d expected bite-sized morsels was a large hunk of meat.

“Damnation,” he muttered. Mrs. Drummond had failed to cut up his meat for him. His fork hit the table hard knowing his meat would be cold by the time he rang for someone to come cut up the meal.

“You’re quite capable of cutting it up yourself.” The sound of Patience’s quiet, yet firm, voice echoed behind him and he jerked with surprise before he stiffened. Why the devil hadn’t he realized she was in the room? Because his head was still wooly from his headache.

“Is there no room sacred in my own home that you won’t enter, madam?” he snapped.

“If you had come down for dinner, it wouldn’t have been necessary for me to intrude on this hiding place of yours.” Patience’s voice was a mixture of amusement and irritation.

“I want my meat to be cut as it usually is,” he said sharply. “Take it downstairs and have Mrs. Drummond cut it up.”

“You may cut it up yourself.” Her retort was short and crisp.

“What did you say?” he growled deep and low as anger swelled up inside him.

“If you’re so desperate to be independent, why haven’t you learned to do more things for yourself?” Patience said with exasperation. “Cutting your meat up is one of those things. Otherwise you’re little more than a babe in the woods.”

“I am no’ a babe in the woods,” he bit out fiercely, while inside he knew she was right.

“Then prove it by learning how to cut your meat up. I’ve ordered Mrs. Drummond to fix your plate a certain way from now on,” Patience said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your meat will always be at five o’clock on your plate. Vegetables will be at eight, ten, and two. Soups and stews will always be at six o’clock when it’s served. Desserts will also be at six o’clock when served after the meal. If you are having a tray dessert will be to the left of the plate at the hour of eight while your bread plate will be just above it at ten. Your wine and water goblets are where they always have been at one and two, and your coffee or tea will be to the right of your plate at three o’clock.”

The explanation was so logical he wondered that he’d not thought of it himself. The fact that Patience had done so but not him irritated the hell out of him. The quiet sound of silk brushing against the carpet echoed in his ear indicating she was headed toward him. Julian heard her sit down opposite him.

“Well?”

Her voice was quiet, but there was enough mockery and challenge in the one word that it made him wrap his hand around his fork in a grip almost tight enough to bend the metal. He didn’t answer. He simply picked up his knife and attacked the meat. The utensils scraped viciously against the china plate as he stabbed at the roast beef. He’d cut several pieces up before she sighed.

“If you cut up the entire piece of meat it will make it more difficult for you to know how much is left to cut,” she said quietly.

There was nothing in her voice that resembled pity. For a brief second, Julian allowed himself to hope she’d come to Crianlarich for a reason other than duty before crushing the notion. He didn’t respond to her comment, he simply stopped cutting the meat. Julian took a bite of the beef then gently probed the areas on the plate where she’d said his vegetables would be. The skirlie Mrs. Lester had prepared was to the left of the roast, and he took a bite of the mash potatoes mixed with onions and oats.

As always, Mrs. Lester’s cooking was exceptional. She’d won numerous pie baking contests at the local fair, and he knew there were many who’d tried to lure her away from him. But he paid her well to ensure she didn’t leave him. He took a bite of the cauliflower, cheese, and whiskey casserole the woman had made.

The three flavors mixed and mingled pleasantly on his tongue. Patience remained silent as he ate, and he remembered the meals they’d often enjoyed at home. There hadn’t been silence between them then. The air had been filled with her laughter.

“I’m sorry about your father, Julian.” Her voice was soft with sincerity, and he bobbed his head in a sharp acknowledgement of her condolence.

“The fact that you say so is more than he deserves,” Julian said with bitterness.

Patience was far more generous with her commiserations than she should be. It was his father who’d set into motion the destruction of her happiness and his. And what would she say when she learned Aiden was here at the castle? His gut knotted at the thought. Patience would think the worst of him for certain.

Anger and resentment erupted inside Julian as he attacked his unseen slab of beef. The old Crianlarich had created a mess, and Julian had been forced to clean it up. In the process he’d lost Patience. In the back of his head, a small voice whispered that there was the possibility he could be wrong. Muireall had said Patience still loved him. If that was true—he crushed the hope without hesitation.

“Muireall says you don’t go outside anymore.”

“My sister does no’ know when to hold her tongue,” he said harshly before regretting his sharp tone. Muireall only had his best interest at heart.

“She loves you,” Patience said softly with the hairs breadth of a pause that made him think she’d been about to say something else. “And you’re evading the topic.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed,” he said sardonically. “I’m blind.”

“And prone to self-pity as well.” The dry note of amusement in her voice made Julian clench his teeth.

“I do no’ feel sorry for myself,” he growled as he focused his gaze on the dark round shape that was her head.

“No? I’d venture to say you play the martyr quite well,” she murmured unsympathetically. “You forget I remember how disagreeable you can be when you’re confined in your movements.”

Julian ignored the lack of compassion in her voice. It was obvious she was referring to the time he’d had a sprained ankle. He wasn’t about to say it out loud, but she was right. He was a surly bastard when he couldn’t move about under his own steam. Silence filled the room as he continued to eat his dinner. Julian reached out to the dessert plate then stopped.

“Do I need a spoon for dessert?” he asked with annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured ruefully. “I should have mentioned that I had Mrs. Lester send up some gooseberry jam shortbread cookies. I didn’t know they were your favorites until she mentioned it.”

He grunted and bobbed his head at the thoughtful gesture. Unwilling to expand on the expression of gratitude, he cautiously ran his fingers along the rim of the dessert plate to pick up one of the cookies. The sweet taste of the cookie mixed with the tart gooseberry jam in the center for a delicious treat.

It was almost as savory a taste as he remembered Patience’s mouth could be. Julian frowned at the direction of his thoughts. The sooner she left Crianlarich Castle, the more quickly he’d forget her. He knew it was an asinine thought even before the jeering voice in the back of his head could chide him for it. Forgetting Patience was impossible. When he’d finished eating, he wiped his mouth with his napkin then dropped it carelessly over the remains of his meal. He leaned back in his chair and tipped his head to one side as if it would help him actually see her face instead of the dark shadow he saw.

“Why are you here, Patience?” he asked in an emotionless voice. He heard her draw in a quick breath of surprise. He immediately remembered times when he’d touched her, and she’d gasped just as sweetly. Julian shoved the memories out of his thoughts to wait stoically for her response.

Chapter 9

Patience sucked in her breath quickly at Julian’s question. How was she supposed to answer him? She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. Blindness had not destroyed his commanding presence. If anything, he was even more devastating to her senses. Her heart ached to tell him the truth at this very moment, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. There was even the possibility that Muireall was wrong.

Her lack of trust in him so many months ago could have easily destroyed his love for her. The thought caused a small bout of nausea to roll through her. No, she couldn’t believe that. She simply needed to regain his trust, and his entire demeanor today said it would take time to do that.

“I asked you a question,” he bit out. “Or are you trying to determine what lie to tell me next?”

“I’ve not lied to you,” she said quietly. “I came because you need me. I came because I want to be here.”

“I told you earlier—I do no’ need you.”

“Don’t you,” she huffed at his obstinate response. “When was the last time you were outside? When did you last go for a ride, something I know you enjoy immensely?”

“A ride?” Julian laughed loudly, but there was bitterness in the sound. Her heart ached for him, but compassion and pity weren’t going to help him. “I think you’ve gone a bit daft, madam.”

“Why? Because I think you can do things that you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t?” she snapped. “I was right about you playing the martyr. You’re not even willing to at least try to do things you enjoy.”

“Because I can’t.”

The flat response took her breath away for a second. He truly believed he was incapable of living a full life despite his affliction. The Rockwood family thrived on challenges, and she knew Julian would not be able to turn one down either. She bit down on her lip for a brief second before she stood up.

“You surprise me, Julian,” she said with deliberate disdain in her voice. “I never took you for a coward.”

Patience started toward the door, and in a flash of movement, Julian was on his feet, one hand braced against the table as his hand reached for her. On the first thrust of his hand outward, his fingers barely brushed across the top of her shoulder. Before she could step out of reach, his hand wrapped around her arm, and he pulled her toward him.

Fury had darkened his features, and if she didn’t know him well, she would have thought him capable of beating her. He leaned in close to her, and Patience drew in a sharp breath of surprise before her entire body hummed with a familiar vibration.

The blank, sightless look in his beautiful coffee-colored eyes as he stared at her without seeing her made Patience flinch. It made her wish with every fiber of her being that she had the ability to give his sight back to him. His mouth thin with outrage, she realized she might have pushed him too far.

“Do no’ ever call me a coward again, Patience. I’ll no’ take that from anyone, especially a woman who hid from the world for six months,” he snarled. His words cut at her emotions like a finely honed sword. But she would willingly accept the brutality of them if it meant she could give him back some semblance of his independence. She swallowed the knot threatening to close her throat.

“Then I take it I shall not be riding alone tomorrow morning?” she asked in a careless tone.

“Aye,” he growled. “Ye will no’ be alone.”

His grip on her arm relaxed as if he intended to let her go before he tightened his grip again. With a sharp tug, he pulled her into his chest. The sudden proximity of him made her heart do a somersault. Fingers splayed against his chest, he smelled of warm spice and bergamot. It had been too long since she’d been this close to him, and she trembled with a sudden need that scorched its way through her veins.

His mouth was so close to hers that with just a slight tilt of her head their lips would touch. Almost as if he’d read her mind, his hand cupped the back of her neck as his other arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her tight against him.

“I have no idea why ye came back, Patience,” he said hoarsely. “But ye are treading a dark and dangerous path, lass.”

No sooner had he uttered his warning than his mouth captured hers in a demanding kiss. A tremor shot through her as her lips parted beneath his. Every bit the arrogant, commanding Highlander, his tongue swept into her mouth to duel tempestuously with hers. She knew it was folly, but she responded eagerly to his hot caress. The tart taste of gooseberry lingered in his mouth and danced across her tongue as his swirled around hers.

Caught up in the raw, sensual maleness of him, the heat radiating off him engulfed her until her body trembled with need. Hard, steely muscles pressed into her body with a powerful, unyielding strength that tempted and aroused her. She ached to feel his skin against hers until she didn’t know where she ended or he began.

Hot and erotic, his kiss enticed and claimed her until a hedonistic rush of pleasure spiraled through her veins. It sent a pulse streaking downward to the center of her core. The moment it reached the sensitive spot between her legs, a low cry of need rolled out of her throat as her body ached for more than just his kiss. The exquisite need for fulfillment spiraled through her while her heart raced out of control.

She moaned softly as with each stroke of his tongue, she yielded to his silent seduction. The pounding of his heart vibrated against her fingertips as a desire so deep and strong made her blind to everything but his kiss. She forgot all that had brought them to this point and simply gave herself up to the sweet passion of the moment. The low growl rumbling in his chest sent a rush of delight streaking through her. In the next instant, he thrust her from him.

“Get out,” he said coldly.

Heart beating wildly in her breast, Patience stared up at Julian’s stony expression. There wasn’t the slightest trace of emotion on his face, and tears welled in her eyes. Was he truly lost to her? Had she come to Crianlarich Castle for nothing? The back of her hand pressed against her mouth, Patience silenced the cry of pain careening through her. She gulped back her tears and raced out of Julian’s bedroom.

The door closed behind her, she walked the few steps down the hall to the bedroom next to her husband’s. Although Patience had protested, Muireall had insisted that as the Crianlarich’s wife, the bedroom next to Julian’s belonged to her. Wiping the tears off her cheeks, Patience quietly entered her room lit by just one candle.

As she’d instructed, there was no fire in the fireplace. Muireall had objected expressing concern that Patience would be cold. She’d simply shook her head and requested more blankets. In the dim light, she looked around for her trunks. They were tucked away in the corner behind a screen with her things already in the wardrobe and chest of drawers.

Exhausted from her journey and her contentious interaction with Julian, she proceeded to undress. She was certain she would have no problem sleeping through the night. Her nightmares were now fewer and further between, but stressful days like today had a propensity to make her experience unexpected moments of panic.

With a heavy heart she proceeded to undress and pulled her nightgown from the wardrobe. She’d just dropped the silk gown over her head when she heard a crash in Julian’s room. Without thinking, she raced toward the connecting door between their rooms. Patience’s hand touched the cool metal doorknob for a fraction of a second before she jerked it back at the sound of Julian cursing his inability to see what he was doing.

A breath of relief whispered past her lips. He was all right. There was no need to antagonize him any further tonight. And she had no doubt the knowledge that she was sleeping in the room right next to his would definitely anger him. Slowly, she walked back to the bed and sank down onto the mattress.

Patience closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her lips. She’d been woefully unprepared for Julian’s kiss. He’d been as masterful as always, but when he’d pushed her away, the expression on his face said he’d been completely unmoved by their kiss.

Had it been his way of demonstrating exactly how futile her efforts were in coming to Crianlarich Castle? But if he believed she’d come simply out of pity and her duty as a wife what purpose did kissing her serve? Confusion spread its wings to speed its way through her. Whatever Julian thought, he would not be easily convinced that she’d come to Crianlarich because she still loved him. Patience’s lips tightened with determination, and her cheek protested.

Extremely tired, Patience longed for nothing but to slide under the covers. She considered putting off for just one more day the stretching exercises she was supposed to do daily. But her marred flesh had been tight and itchy all day, and it had intensified over the last few hours. She muttered an unladylike curse for not having done her usual regimen of exercise and emollients for more than a week now. Now, when she was fatigued, she couldn’t put off her exercises any longer.

Harlan would not be happy with her at all. The thought of Dr. Branson made her mouth twist in a small smile. Immediately, the mottled skin on her cheek sent a signal of pain to her head. It was a vivid reminder that she needed to do her exercises. Harlan had been a regular visitor to Melton House ever since the fire. Although he was still her doctor, he’d become a friend as well. Like her family, there was no horror or pity in his eyes when he looked at her. Knowing he’d be disappointed at her lack of discipline, Patience went in search of her cosmetic case. As she did so, she tilted her head to deliberately pull and stretch the taut flesh of her cheek.

She continued to repeat the exercise as she retrieved the special cream Harlan had prepared for her. It was designed to ease, if not eliminate, the need to scratch at her skin for relief. Jar in hand, she sat down at the dressing table and avoided staring at her reflection. It still pained her immensely to see the creature she’d become. Closing her eyes, she applied the emollient to the tight, dry skin of her cheek.

The soft floral scent of lavender, sandalwood, and something Harlan called aloe wafted beneath her nose as she worked the cream into the scarred tissue. Harlan had said the aloe was a natural ointment to alleviate the pain caused by burns. Relief came quickly, and she sighed as the unpleasant tingling began to subside. Patience continued to do the facial exercises Harlan had taught her as she applied the soothing lotion to her forearm and lower leg. When she’d finished working the cream into her skin, she proceeded to move her arm and leg in the stretches that would help keep the skin from retracting.

The exercises brought tears to her eyes, and she angrily berated herself for allowing her packing to prevent her from following Dr. Branson’s orders. She would not forgo them in the future. After a long time the tight discomfort of her scars eased, and she stopped her exertions. The jar lid screwed back into place, she set it on the dressing table. As she did so her gaze settled upon the scarred woman in the mirror.

Although she hated the fact that Julian’s blindness had taken his independence, she was grateful he couldn’t see the horrid thing she’d become. Patience winced at the thought as she rested her elbows on the vanity and cradled her face in her hands. The journey to Crianlarich today had been long and had started out unpleasantly.

Victoria Station had been a discordant mix of train whistles, shouts, and the loud whoosh of steam engines. Everywhere there was chaos and her hand had gripped Percy’s arm as if it were a life preserver. Her brother knew exactly how difficult being in public was for her.

“You’re doing fine, Patience,” her brother said in a soothing voice. “Nothing to it. We’ll get you on the train, and you’ll be in Crianlarich before you know it.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond as a tall, burly man charged past her, his large shoulder knocking her away from Percy. In her effort to remain standing, her hat became caught in another passerby’s jacket, and it was tugged completely off her head, along with the veil that covered her face.

“Oh, dear God,” she exclaimed in panic. “Percy…where’s my hat?”

“Here you are, miss,” the cheerful voice of a boy echoed in her ear.

Not thinking she lifted her head to meet the boy’s gaze. Instantly, the child dropped her hat and recoiled from her with a small cry of horror. At his cry, other people turned their heads, and gasps of dismay and pity assaulted her ears.

Percy growled an oath and leapt forward to scoop up her hat. Deftly, his arm about her waist, he shielded her as she fumbled in her efforts to hide her face again. Terror spiraled through her, and she clung to her brother’s tall strength.

“I can’t do this, Percy,” she whispered hoarsely. “Take me back to Melton House.”

“Of course you can do this, sweetheart. You’re a Rockwood. Rockwoods never turn away from a challenge.”

“No, I just can’t,” she said with a small sob as she burrowed her face into his chest. Percy held her tight and quietly soothed her as she fought back tears.

“Patience, you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known, but even better than that you’re my sister,” he said against her ear as he held her close. “Do you love Julian?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

“Then you don’t have much of a choice except to get on this train, do you?” At his matter-of-fact manner, Patience pulled away from him. She accepted the handkerchief Percy handed her and slipped her hand beneath the veil to dry her tears.

“This is the hardest part of the journey, Patience,” her brother said as he gently guided her along the platform toward the rear of the train. His manner one of solicitous purpose, Percy assisted her onto the train and guided her along the narrow aisle to the private compartment Sebastian had arranged for her.

The conductor was headed toward them as Patience quickly entered the cabin. She heard the low rumble of voices as Percy spoke with the man just outside her accommodations. The compartment was small, but comfortable, and she was grateful her oldest brother had arranged for her privacy. A porter had already placed her luggage in the car along with the hamper Mrs. Stoner had instructed Cook to prepare for Patience’s journey.

Seconds later, Percy joined her and drew the shade. Slowly, Patience removed her hat, grateful to be free of the veil that made her face itch. Percy sat down on the seat opposite her. His gaze reassuring, he smiled at her.

“You did it, Patience,” he said with brotherly pride. “The rest of your trip will be easy.”

She nodded, but remained silent as fear assaulted her. Aware of her trepidation, Percy caught her hands in his and squeezed them.

“There are only three stops between here and Crianlarich. I’ve instructed the conductor to see that you are not disturbed. Simply draw the shades as you’re pulling into each station. The conductor will arrange for a porter to offload your baggage at Crianlarich. Muireall said she’ll send someone to meet you at the train.”

“Thank you, Percy,” she said softly. “For everything.”

“I’m only doing what any brother should do.” Percy shrugged. “Just make sure that husband of yours understands you love him. Although I think you might have your work cut out for you. I don’t think you’ll be received with open arms. He was not happy when he left Melton House the last time, and for a man like Julian, to be struck blind, it will only make things more difficult.”

“I’m certain of that, but I’ll make him understand that I need to be at his side,” she said softly. Percy nodded and stood up. Bending over, he kissed Patience on her scarred cheek.

“Try to enjoy your trip, Patience,” he said quietly and then he was gone.

Enjoy your trip. Percy had been far more optimistic than her. But she had enjoyed the scenery. Though it was by choice, being limited to the garden at Melton House had made her appreciate the countryside she’d seen from the train window. Other than seeing Julian, there was another thing she had been looking forward to about her return to Crianlarich Castle.

Freedom. The freedom to go outside without the fear of meeting friends or strangers. She would even be able to go riding or walking without a hat or veil if she chose. At Crianlarich, the only looks of pity and horror would be from the staff, but that had turned out to be a needless worry.

That much had been true from the moment Drummond had met her at the Crianlarich station. He’d greeted her with the same quiet manner he’d displayed the first time she’d come to the castle. The man had not even flinched at the sight of her. Mrs. Drummond had acted as kind and cheerful as Patience remembered. The housekeeper had made over her like she would a lost lamb. She had no idea if Muireall had informed the staff of her burns, but she was increasingly grateful for their kindness.

Patience lifted her head and turned away from the mirror. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to provoke Julian into riding in the morning. It would not be easy for him. Perhaps she should have gone alone, but she couldn’t deny she was pleased he was going. It would allow her the chance to begin healing the breach between them. Being at Crianlarich also gave her a chance to heal herself as well.

Her self-imposed seclusion had created a deep-seated need to feel the wind in her face and scent of heather beneath her nose. Unlike Hyde Park, Crianlarich was a safe haven. It would be unusual to meet people when she was riding on the moor, and as the family was in mourning, there would be no parties. It meant there would not be any pitying glances or looks of horror.

A yawn parted her lips, and she stood up and crossed the room to her bed. With a gentle puff of air, she blew out the candle beside her bed, pulled back the bedcovers, and slipped beneath the cold sheets. She shivered as she waited for the sheets to warm up around her. With a small tug, Patience turned on her side and pulled the bedding upward until she was snuggled deep under the blankets.

In the process, her fingers brushed across the skin on her left cheek. Despite the cream, the skin was still rough and rigid, and she shivered at the feel of the scarred flesh against her fingertips. How would Julian have reacted if his mouth had touched her marred skin? She shuddered again, not wanting to know what his response might be. It was something she would be forced to face when she finally convinced him that she’d returned to him because she loved him. With a sigh, her eyes fluttered shut.

The moment she did so, images of the fire filled her head. Patience drew in a sharp breath and her eyes flew open as she tried to suppress the fear wrapping its tendrils tightly around her. Despite her efforts to steady her breathing, her lungs constricted from a lack of air as panic twisted its way through her at lightning speed.

Fingers curled up into fists, her body became a tight ball as she fought desperately to hold back the paralyzing terror. It was a futile effort as images of the fire swirled in her head until she was there again. As if it had happened minutes ago, she swallowed her screams as she watched Caleb and Devin fall to their deaths. Her heart pounded as she froze where she was.

She could feel the flames licking her skin. Pain seared her cheek and arm, and she gasped at the memory’s powerful intensity as the smell of smoke filled her nostrils. The urge to scream barreled upward and out of her lungs, and she buried her face in her pillow as the terror erupted out of her. With each muffled scream, the fear slowly abated until the screaming died a quiet death.

A sharp click filled the air, and the faint moonlight streaming into the room revealed Julian standing in the doorway of the connecting door. He stood there with his head tilted, and Patience tried not to breathe or move as Julian’s tall frame filled the doorway. She was certain he’d heard her muffled screams, but his posture said he wasn’t sure they’d come from her room.

Frozen in place, she waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly turned and went back to his room closing the door behind him. As the door snapped shut, Patience released a soft sigh of relief before tears rolled down her cheeks.

§ § §

Patience awoke to the sound of a commotion coming from Julian’s room. He was as grouchy as a bear, and his voice was sharp to whomever was assisting him dress. Remembering his agreement to ride this morning, she quickly tossed her covers aside and went about the business of performing her daily ministrations.

In roughly a half hour, she was hurrying down the main staircase dressed in her riding habit. Julian stood impatiently in the front hall, his riding gloves beating a steady rhythm of irritation against his riding breeches. He was the epitome of an arrogant laird annoyed that someone had kept him waiting.

“You’re late,” he snapped.

“I don’t recall our setting a time to ride, but I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said quietly.

He grunted his reluctant acceptance of her apology, and with his cane tapping sharply against the foyer’s stone floor he made his way to the door. Patience didn’t say a word as he fumbled for the doorknob. When he opened the door, he stood back with his hand holding onto the doorknob with the obvious expectation that she should precede him.

As she passed him, Patience caught the faint scent of his woodsy cologne and her senses were immediately on alert. She was grateful there were no steps for him to navigate. The thought of him needing her arm made her feel incredibly vulnerable. The last time he’d touched her, he’d unsettled her completely. Lorne, the Crianlarich estate manager, was waiting for them a short distance from the front entrance of the house with Julian’s stallion, Romulus, and a horse for her.

Patience smiled as she recognized Remus. The gentle, yet fast-paced, gelding had been her favorite horse to ride the one and only time she’d been to Crianlarich. The horse had carried her far away from the vicious taunts of Julian’s father. She moved forward to rub the jowls of the animal. The horse nudged her shoulder in a clear request for a treat.

“Later, boy. I’ve nothing for you at the moment.”

“Here.” Julian’s voice was gruff as he pulled a few cubes of sugar from his jacket pocket and extended his hand toward her. She didn’t move.

“I’m approximately three feet away from you and two feet to your right.”

She spoke in a matter-of-fact, quiet tone of voice as she waited for him to move closer to her with the cubes in his hand. A frown wrinkled his brow before he slowly advanced on her with the treats. When he was within arm’s reach of her, she took the sugar from him and proceeded to give Remus the cube. An expression of satisfaction swept across Julian’s face as he dropped his hand to his side.

“Where’s Romulus?” he demanded.

“He’s facing you. Go to your left five feet or so then four steps forward.” At her directions, Julian nodded and used his cane to move forward. When he reached the dark red stallion, he ran his hand across the bridge of the animal’s nose before he dug into his pocket and fed the horse a sugar cube. A second later, Julian’s hands were on the horse’s mane as he slipped his cane into the rifle holster attached to the saddle. A moment later, he awkwardly jumped into the saddle.

The stallion pranced a bit, and Patience bit down on her lower lip. Perhaps this had not been the best of ideas. Actually, the challenge had been impulsive and rash. Traits she’d always seemed to excel at almost as much as Caleb. The thought of her brother brought tears to her eyes. Patience blinked them away to focus on the current problem. Romulus.

Her gaze met Lorne’s who arched his eyebrows with skepticism. The fact that the man didn’t hesitate to meet her gaze made Patience feel as if she were at home where what she looked like didn’t matter. She grimaced as she focused her attention on the matter at hand.

“Lorne, will Remus be able to keep up with Romulus?” Before the estate manager could speak, Julian glared sightlessly in her direction.

“Are you suggesting Romulus will grab the bit, my lady?”

“I simply asked if Remus can keep up with Romulus,” she responded quietly.

“Implying I will no’ be able to manage my horse.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said with exasperation and a hint of guilt.

“You did no’ have to,” he snapped angrily. “I know Romulus better than anyone. Now, do you intend to go riding or do I go alone.

At the suggestion he might actually leave her behind, Patience stared at him aghast. With a jerk of his head, Lorne silently indicated she should mount.

“I’m coming,” she said with irritation. “Stubborn Highlander.”

This last part she muttered under her breath, and Lorne looked at her in surprise before grinning at her broadly. Patience rolled her eyes at the estate manager and accepted his help mounting Remus. When she was properly seated, Patience turned her head toward Julian.

“Do you have a preference as to where we ride?” At the question, an indescribable look crossed Julian’s face. It was gone in a brief second as his expression became unreadable.

“The falls,” Julian said in a dispassionate voice. The air left Patience’s lungs as she stared at him in dismay. It was the last thing she expected him to say. Eas Falloch—The Hidden Falls. The last time she’d been to the falls had been with Julian. They’d made love in a small glade close enough to the falls that they could hear the water crashing over the rocks. Was his intention to remind her of that time and demonstrate he no longer cared for her?

“As you wish,” she said then looked down at the estate manager. “Lorne would you ask Mrs. Lester to have lunch ready a little earlier than usual. As I remember the falls are an hour’s ride from here. We should be back by eleven or so.”

“Yes, my lady.” Behind Patience, she heard the sound of running feet. With a skilled pull on her reins, she turned Remus around to see Muireall running out of the castle with a look of apprehension on her face.

“What are you doing Julian?” her sister-in-law cried in dismay. “Patience, you can no’ let him go riding, ‘tis too dangerous.”

“I’m more than capable of riding,” Julian snapped. “I simply need a pair of eyes to show me where to go and how to get home.”

“Romulus —

“I raised Romulus from the time he was a foal. I trust the horse. I do no’ have any reason to believe he will fail me as others have.”

There was an emotion layered beneath his words that made Patience believe he was referring to her lack of faith in him. Her entire family had told her more than once his reaction to her refusal to see him after the fire had been a crushing blow to him. Percy had been right. Julian was far from willing to receive her with open arms.

Patience could only hope her own betrayal of not believing he was innocent had not destroyed his love for her. She still had no idea how Una had known about Julian’s birthmark, but it didn’t matter. She’d forgiven him the night of the fire as she’d run toward him and flung herself through the air into his arms. She’d known then that if she were to die, she wanted it to be in his arms. And she had died that night in a manner of speaking.

The old Patience had vanished and in her place was a creature people shied away from. The thought of being the beneficiary of Julian’s pity had forced her to send him away from her. She’d used the only weapon at her disposal, and it had worked. Perhaps she’d done her job too well.

“It will be all right, Muireall,” she said reassuringly as she met the girl’s gaze. “I’ll see to it he stays out of trouble.”

Julian released a low sound of disgust and muttered something beneath his breath. Without any warning, he nudged Romulus forward into a trot. Muireall’s eyes widened and Patience shook her head at the girl as she turned Remus around to follow her husband. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in suggesting he ride.

Chapter 10

Julian heard his sister’s quiet cry of dismay as he rode away, but he ignored it. Although Patience didn’t say anything, he heard the clip clop of Remus’ hooves against the front drive’s gravel as she followed him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the landscape in front of him. Even if he wasn’t blind, he’d only need to close his eyes to know exactly where he was.

Now with his eyes open, all he could see were dark shapes mixed with gray ones against the cloudy white background. His senses were keenly attuned to everything around him, and the scent of lilacs brushed against his nostrils. It was an aroma as familiar to him as the air he breathed. It was her scent. The breeze against his cheek changed direction as Patience rode up beside him. He turned his head slightly to make out the shape of Remus’ head.

“She doesn’t mean to treat you like a child, Julian. She just worries about you.” The sympathy in Patience’s voice irritated him.

“I do no’ need or want anyone’s sympathy.”

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you, you arrogant bastard. I was feeling sorry for Muireall,” she snapped disgust. “From what little she’s said, you’ve been acting like a bear someone keeps poking. And if your behavior since my arrival is any example, I would agree.”

“Your presence wasn’t requested by me,” he bit out fiercely, unhappy that he deserved her chastisement.

“No, Muireall did and I can see why. She’s trying desperately to help you, and you’ve repaid her by acting like a complete and utter ass.”

The sharp words shot a bolt of remorse streaking through him. She was right, and he didn’t like admitting it. Julian simply grunted and urged Romulus into a trot. For the briefest of moments, he thought himself mad for riding a horse when he couldn’t see. But Romulus’ stride was steady and the animal responded to the slightest pressure of his knee into the stallion’s side. Still, his lack of vision made it impossible to be sure of his direction. It left him feeling powerless—a feeling he didn’t like at all. The stallion moved forward at a faster pace, and Patience was alongside him in the next second.

“Shall I take the lead so Romulus can follow?” She asked in a voice devoid of emotion.

He didn’t like the idea of following anyone, but it was the sensible thing to do. Just because he might know the way in his mind, it was foolhardy to think he could get to the falls without getting lost.

Julian gave a sharp nod, and a second later the dark shape of Patience and Remus’ moved out in front of him. Even though he could feel the warmth of the sun, the breeze against his cheek had a sting to it. Winter was not quite ready to let go of Crianlarich yet. But the crisp smell of the wind aroused a sense of freedom he’d not experienced in a long time.

He might not have welcomed Patience’s presence in the castle, but he couldn’t deny that in the space of a day, she’d returned a small measure of his independence to him. He frowned at the thought just as Romulus’ leisurely stride became jerky as the horse cantered down a short, but steep, incline. Julian uttered a low oath.

As good as it felt to be back in the saddle, he’d just been given a silent warning as to how easily he could be thrown. Anger sped through him. He had no idea why God had chosen to punish him like this, but he wanted his vision back. He wanted to see where he was going. He wanted to read a book for himself not have Muireall read to him. Most of all he wanted to see his wife’s face. He wanted to look into her soft brown eyes that had always reminded him of a doe’s eyes.

A grimace tugged at his cheek. Why should he believe her reason for being here was anything more than duty? She’d said she came because she wanted too. It didn’t mean she was here because she loved him. Julian clenched his jaw. He’d told her that her presence was unnecessary. It was a lie.

One of several he’d told her, but this time it had been to keep from revealing how much he loved her. The idea of giving her power over him again wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. Especially when her presence at Crianlarich filled him with more pleasure than he wanted to admit.

Romulus hit another uneven section of ground and Julian forced himself to concentrate on staying on his horse. In the past he’d given Romulus his head and the two of them had raced across the beautiful, stark moors. Today the animal seemed to sense something different about its rider, and the horse seemed quite content to slow down to a much slower pace.

“I’m glad you decided to slow to a walk,” Patience said as she drew alongside him. “Remus’ appears to be growing tired.”

“Do no’ patronize me, Patience.”

“I’m not. When was the last time someone exercised these animals?” There was a rebuke in her voice that set him on edge.

“I have no’ been capable of riding in some time.”

“And yet you’re riding now.”

Julian didn’t answer her. She was right, but he wasn’t about to agree with her. The only reason he was on horseback now was because she was his guide. Anger surged through him. He didn’t want to be obligated to her. It made him appear weak, and he refused to allow his handicap to define him. In the next breath, he acknowledged he’d been doing just that since the accident. Patience was treating him like the man he’d been before the accident simply by not allowing him to wallow in his self-pity.

“Thanks to you,” he grumbled. Silence met his expression of gratitude, and he wondered if she’d not heard him. “If you expect me to—”

“You took me by surprise,” she interrupted in a quiet voice. “I’m happy you’ve found me helpful.”

Silence drifted between them, and he allowed himself to breathe in the crisp Highland air. A sense of peace settled over him. Julian closed his eyes and allowed his senses to take in his surroundings. Heather grew nearby for he could smell it. In the distance, he heard the chirp of a bobolink. An image of the bird flew into his mind as he reminded himself that Patience’s hair was the same dark brown as the bobolink’s undercoat. They rode in silence for a long time, both lost in their thoughts. It was a comfortable silence, and he took pleasure in being outdoors with Patience near him no matter how she felt about him.

Ahead of them, Julian heard the sound of water crashing over rocks. Eas Falloch, what had possessed him to suggest the Hidden Falls? A devil perhaps? A means of pointing out that she meant nothing to him? It was a ludicrous notion. She meant the world to him, but he was no longer capable of being a husband. Even if she’d returned for some other reason than duty, he would always be a liability unless his sight returned. The sound of the falls grew louder, and the amount of water he could hear crashing over rocks made him realize the snow was melting in preparation for spring.

“There is a great deal of water coming off the falls,” Patience raised her voice slightly to be heard over the growing noise of the rushing water.

“The snow in the north is melting. Where are we?” His question was met by a brief note of silence.

“Just below the whirlpool.” The pause in her reply was no more than a heartbeat, but he heard it nonetheless. “The glade is beyond that.”

“We should water the horses.”

“Yes, of course.” There was a breathless note in her voice that puzzled him.

Was she disturbed that they’d returned to the falls? The moment hope slipped its way into his thoughts, he grimaced. He needed to remember she’d not returned to Crianlarich because she still loved him. No doubt the only thing troubling her about their visit to the falls was that it was an uncomfortable reminder of the past.

To his satisfaction, Julian dismounted in a much more elegant manner than he had mounting Romulus. One hand gliding over the stallion’s sleek coat, he ducked under Romulus’ head and stretched out his hand in search of Remus’ cheek piece.

“What are you doing?” Patience asked with a confused note in her voice.

“Helping you off this horse.”

“I don’t need…” Her voice trailed off as his hand found the soft wool of her riding habit.

Julian’s hand moved up over her leg, and Patience made a small noise as his hands caught her by the waist. With ease, he lifted her out of the saddle and enjoyed the way she slid down the front of him. The feel of her in his arms made him want to hold her close for as long as he could.

Aware of how dangerous it was to have her pressed against him, he quickly released her and turned back to Romulus. His fingers found the animal’s reins, and he urged the horse forward, allowing the animal to lead him to the edge of the fast moving stream. Patience joined him, and they stood in silence as the horses drank. When the animals had had their fill, Julian allowed Romulus to serve as his guide as they moved away from the narrow river.

“Do we stay for a while or do we go home?” Her use of the word home in her question startled him. She’d never referred to the castle as if it were her home as well as his.

“Since the horses haven’t been exercised in a while, we should let them rest some,” he said with a nod to her earlier observations. The horses hadn’t exerted themselves much on their way to the falls, but in truth he wasn’t ready to return to the castle. “As I recall, there are several large, flat rocks at the edge of the glade.”

“The glade then,” she murmured. The faintest hint of emotion vibrated in her voice, but it was impossible for him to decipher it.

With Patience and Remus leading the way, Julian kept one hand on Romulus’ mane as they headed toward the small glade a short distance away. In a matter of minutes they reached the small clearing. Julian pulled his cane from the rifle sling, intent on making his way to the rocks without her hand. Despite his resolve to find his own way, he was forced to let Patience verbally guide his steps. As he sat down on one of the rocks that bordered the edge of the river, Patience tethered the horses to a nearby tree.

She joined him a moment later, and sat down on the cold granite a little more than an arm’s length away from him. The water filled the air around them as they sat in silence. His eyes closed, he tilted his head slightly so the sun could warm his face. The air he breathed in was fresh and smelled of the cool mist that drifted off the falls.

Even though he couldn’t see the water streaming over the rocks into the pool below, he remembered how it had looked the last time he’d been here with Patience. He’d made love to her in the glade directly behind them. They’d almost been caught by a guest that had been staying with his neighbor Ewan MacLaren. He could still see the flush of color she’d had in her cheeks as she’d adjusted her silky brown hair the moment they heard the jingle of horse tack.

“Did you come here often as a child?” The quiet question brought him back into the present. He turned his head toward her, the familiar shadowy outline of her against the pale light filling his view.

“Aye. My mother loved the falls. My father would bring us here for picnics,” he said with a nod. “I think it might have been one of her most favorite places to be.”

“I can see why,” Patience said quietly. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.”

“My mother thought so too.” Julian didn’t know why, but it surprised him that she would use words he remembered his mother saying whenever they came to the falls.

“I imagine she worried about you going too close to the edge of the stream.” The amusement in her voice made him smile.

“Many times,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised she didn’t tie me down. My father would always tell her to leave me be, that I had a good head on my shoulders.”

“You miss him,” she said without any emotion.

“Aye,” he nodded. “He possessed a great many faults, but deep down he had a good heart. Losing my mother changed him.”

The memory of Aiden sitting in the nursery made him flinch. He’d praised his father too soon. Patience would not find his father’s lies those of a good-hearted man. He needed to tell her about the boy, but he wasn’t sure whether she’d believe Aiden was his brother after all that had happened between them. His father’s lies only added to the problem. It would make it harder to convince her the child wasn’t his. He frowned at the thought.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” he bit out as guilt swept through him.

“Muireall said you’ve been having headaches, and you look as though you’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing. It will go away soon enough,” he lied as the tell-tale signs of a bad migraine began to flourish in the back of his head.

Silence drifted between them again, and Julian tried to relax in an attempt to stop his headache from worsening. It quickly became a battle he knew he was losing. Beside him, he heard Patience utter a small sound of annoyance.

“You might possibly be even more stubborn than my brothers.”

Exasperation filled her soft words as she scooted closer to him. Gently, her hands grasped his shoulders and forced him backward until the back of his head was in her lap. With a light touch, her fingers stroked his forehead in a circular pattern. It didn’t alleviate the pain, but it lessened it to the point he believed he could return home without looking like a man on the verge of collapse.

The familiar resentment at his predicament twisted its way through him. Suddenly eager to leave, his hand flew up to grab her wrist and end her soothing strokes against his temple. In a split-second, the feel of rough patches of scarred skin beneath his fingertips made him draw in a sharp breath. The memory of the fire flashed through his head.

His heart slammed into his chest like a freight train as he remembered the terror of watching her across the gap of flames between them that terrible night. If not for Percy, he would have plunged through the flames to reach her. Instead he’d been helpless to do anything except watch her struggle to live. Knowing he might have to watch her die had been the most unimaginable of horrors. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

Now the feel of the scarred skin beneath the pads of his fingers reminded him once more of how she’d suffered that night. It made him want to gather her up into his arms and hold her close. With a sharp tug, she jerked free of his touch. Julian immediately sat upright and turned to face her. He had no way of knowing for certain, but he thought he was staring at her profile. The tension in her was almost a tangible sensation on his skin.

“You flinch where there is no need, mo leannan.” The endearment rolled off his lips so easily.

“Don’t,” she said in an icy voice. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m no’ offering you pity, Patience,” he denied fiercely. “I have never pitied you. How could anyone do so after what you did?”

“I did nothing.” The flat note in her voice did little to hide the pain behind her words.

“I do no’ call the lives of nine children and two women, nothing,” he said quietly as he reached out to touch Patience’s shoulder. She shrugged off his touch.

“I wish to return to the castle,” she said coldly. “I’ll fetch the horses.”

In a flurry of movement, she rose to her feet and hurried off leaving him alone. Julian fumbled around for his cane until he found it on the ground next to the rock. Slowly, he stood up and listened for the jangling sound of the horses. Two large shadows moved against the ghostly background of his vision. Swishing his cane back and forth in front of him, he moved toward the animals. He’d taken no more than three steps when his foot plunged into a shallow dip in the ground and he landed on his face.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. His fall renewed the throbbing that Patience’s touch had almost eliminated. Julian struggled to his feet as Patience’s sweet perfume filled his nostrils. His heightened senses told him she was within arm’s reach, but she didn’t touch him.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he snapped, angry he’d displayed how much he needed someone to help him navigate his way.

“Good,” she said with irritation that equaled his. “Perhaps it will teach you the pitfalls of not asking for help.”

“I do no’ need a lecture from you, Patience MacTavish.”

“Don’t you?” She sniffed with irritation.

“No,” he growled. Julian quickly reached out toward her dark curves against the pale gray background that was his vision. As he tugged her into his chest, her gasp of surprise brought a grim smile to his lips.

“Before you seek to reprimand me, Patience, look to your own unwillingness to leave the dead behind and rejoin the living.”

“We’re not talking about me,” she said hoarsely as she strained away from him.

“Perhaps talking is no’ what’s required, lass.”

A dark need surged through him as he curled his hand around the back of her neck and captured her mouth with his. With a demanding nip on her lower lip, he forced her to open her mouth to him. The moment her tongue danced with his, the pent up desire inside him exploded. Images flashed through his head of other moments when her passionate response had driven him to possess her completely. Moments when she’d been beneath him, and he’d worshipped her body with his. The memory and taste of her made his cock harden until it swelled tight in his breeches.

There was the warm, spicy taste of cloves on her tongue that hinted at the fiery passion he knew dwelled deep within her. The taste ignited a fierce hunger inside him that drummed its way through his limbs with the force of a charging bull. It drove him to deepen their kiss until she was clinging to him as she had done so many times in the past. Hot and passionate, she responded to him with a familiar abandon he remembered well. She’d always been an eager student in the art of pleasure.

When her hand slid down the front of his chest he drew in a sharp breath as her palm rubbed over his sensitive erection. The primitive sensation the touch aroused in him pushed him to the edge of insanity. God Almighty, he was ready to come right now. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? The question pushed its way through the desire holding him in its grip. He shuddered. How could she not know? He was hard as a hammer. Did she know his response was driven by an emotion he didn’t want to feel for her? Worse, was she responding to him simply out of guilt? The thought sickened him. Fingers biting hard into her shoulders, he heard Patience gasp from discomfort as he pushed her away from him.

“We’re going back to the castle.”

“Julian, I—”

“Now, Patience,” he growled.

Damnation, what had he been thinking to kiss her? First last night and then now? He should have ushered her right out the front door of Crianlarich Castle yesterday when she’d arrived. Julian tentatively dragged his foot through the grass surrounding him in search of his cane. The stick was offered to him in silence, and he roughly took it from her. In seconds, he heard her leading the horses to where he stood. Aware she would need assistance in mounting, he viciously stored his cane in the gun holder on his saddle. With the walking stick secured, he glided his hand along Romulus’ neck and made his way around the animal.

“I can mount Remus without—”

“Quiet, woman,” he snarled.

The leather of Patience’s saddle was smooth and soft beneath Julian’s fingers as he sought to determine height and location of the tack. With a turn of his head, Patience’s dark curves filled his limited vision. The heat of her engulfed him as he gripped her waist and lifted her upward.

She was lighter than he remembered. As he set her in the saddle, he could have sworn her hands lingered on his shoulders before she straightened upright. A moment later, he was on Romulus’ back. As he settled in his seat, his anger grew as he knew he had to rely on Patience to guide him home.

“Lead now, Patience, or I’ll let Romulus find his own way,” he bit out angrily.

She murmured a small noise of agreement, and he followed her shadow, which stood out against the familiar hazy gray background of his eyesight. As they rode away from the falls, Julian tried to ignore the throbbing that had returned to his head. Even though their pace was a gentle trot, the jarring impact of Romulus’ stride became continuous, resounding blows to his head. With each stride the stallion took, it became more difficult to remain upright in his saddle.

Slowly, his shoulders slumped downward as his fingers latched tightly onto Romulus’ thick mane. Patience remained in front of him as she’d done for a great deal of the ride to the falls. Julian was grateful for that. He had no need of sympathy on her part. But the most important reason was that it ensured she didn’t come to his rescue as an angel of mercy.

The ride back to the castle seemed to last forever, and he was close to giving into the pain when Romulus’ hooves hit gravel. The sound filled him with relief. Slowly he dismounted, his fingers wrapped tightly in the stallion’s mane in order to remain standing. To steady himself he pressed his head against the soft leather of the saddle. Beside him, Patience’s perfume gently brushed across his senses.

“I’m beginning to think you have a death wish, Mr. MacTavish,” his wife said fiercely. “You could have fallen off the damn horse.”

“If you use that vocabulary around Muireall, she’ll think I condone it in her,” he muttered as his stomach began to churn.

With a rough push away from the stallion’s back, he staggered away from her and the horse. Patience uttered a cry of surprise, but he ignored it. A moment later he threw up whatever was left of his dinner the night before. Bent at the waist, he panted loudly as he fought to regain control of his body. He didn’t like anyone seeing him sick like this, especially Patience when they were estranged. Her hand touched his shoulder lightly.

“You still have your headache, don’t you?”

Unable to nod without making his head throb, he simply grunted. Her touch almost tender, her fingers stroked across his temple before she gently urged him to straighten and she wrapped her arm around his waist. Another body on his opposite side provided a similar support, and he recognized Lorne’s silent strength. As his wife and estate manager helped him up the stairs to his bedroom, Julian’s feet seemed encased in lead boots. Jaw clenched, he forced himself to try and ignore the pain in his head. The task was a hopeless one, and when they reached his room, Julian gratefully sank down onto his bed.

“Lorne, I need lavender water, and rags for compresses.” The soft, clear cadence of Patience’s voice drifted through his haze of pain followed by Lorne’s quiet reply. The door closed behind his estate manager, and Patience returned to his side.

“I’m sorry, Julian, but you need to sit up. You’ll not rest easy until you’re undressed.”

The soft steel in her voice said she refused to let him argue with her. When had his wife become as strong-willed as the Scotswomen he’d grown up with? His father had been wrong about Patience in so many ways. He growled in pain as she slid one arm beneath his shoulders to raise him up and remove his jacket.

He groaned as she eased him out of his coat, and as if understanding any movement was painful for him, Patience moved all the more quickly to help him undress. With his waistcoat and shirt off, Patience helped ease him backward into the feather pillows. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind where the pain didn’t reach, he remembered other times when Patience’s hands had lovingly undressed him.

Her touch was gentle now, but he knew how hot her touch could be. God, he wished he didn’t feel so fucking miserable. He’d have her undressed in minutes so he could bury himself inside her. Eyes closed, he didn’t move as Patience continued to undress him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he found himself wishing he didn’t have a migraine. He wished they were simply a husband and wife making love.

Sleep must have dragged him out of the conscious realm as the next thing he knew he was naked beneath the sheets. A cool compress lay on his forehead, and the soft scent of lavender water wafted beneath his nose. His hand reached up to touch her fingers as Patience gently removed the compress and replaced it with a new one.

“You do no’ need to do this, Patience,” he whispered hoarsely. “It will pass.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were too unwell to ride?” Guilt echoed in her voice. “I could have gone for help.”

“It would no’ have made a difference. The only way for me to come back to the castle would have been to ride.” Julian could almost sense the guilt emanating from her, and he sighed. “And do no’ be thinking you should no’ have thought to challenge me to ride. I enjoyed it. It was good to be outdoors again.”

Her hand clasped his as he closed his eyes. There was a serenity about her taking care of him that gave him a sense of peace. His head still pounded like a freight train, but the fact that Patience was with him made the pain easier to bear. Patience released his hand, and he immediately felt the loss of her comforting heat. A moment later her soft breast pressed into his shoulder as she raised him up slightly.

“Mrs. Lester fixed you some chamomile tea,” she murmured. “It will help you sleep, and that’s the best thing for you right now.”

“Aye,” he whispered as he drank the tea she’d pressed to his lips. When he was settled back against the pillows, sleep swept toward him, but not before he expressed his gratitude. “Thank you, mo leannan.”

He thought he heard Patience utter a soft sound, but it was impossible to be sure as sleep dragged him back down once more.

Chapter 11

Patience slowly opened the door that connected her room with Julian’s. He’d yet to learn she was in the room next to his, and she was no longer sure what he would make of the fact. Twice yesterday he’d called her mo leannan—sweetheart.

It could simply be a term of endearment he used without thinking, but it had made her hope Julian still had feelings for her buried just beneath his caustic manner. He was a proud man. Even if he still loved her, she’d sent him away under the pretext she thought him a liar. That alone would injure his fierce pride.

As she peeked around the door, she saw Julian was still fast asleep. She breathed a soft sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face his reaction when he discovered she was in the room next to his. Quietly, Patience stepped into Julian’s bedroom and closed the door linking their rooms. Julian had suffered in stoic silence for most of yesterday with the exception of short, harsh snarls whenever he did speak.

The man abhorred anything resembling confinement. That he’d remained in bed yesterday indicated how bad he’d felt. Last night, she’d added a few drops of laudanum to his chamomile tea hoping it would provide him with some well-needed rest. It had done precisely what she’d hoped as she’d checked in on him twice last night, and he’d not stirred either time.

Patience crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She took Julian’s hand in hers and studied him as he slept. Julian had never looked so vulnerable to her. She knew the loss of his eyesight was far more devastating for him than he was willing to let others see. He’d never found it easy to ask for help. Julian’s independence was something he valued highly. His sister, despite the deep love she had for her brother, had most likely made things all the more difficult for him.

Muireall’s objection yesterday to Julian riding to the falls was an example of her sister-in-law’s love and concern for her brother. The girl’s reaction had made Patience regret challenging Julian to go riding with her. It had been impulsive and foolhardy on her part to suggest he was afraid to ride. But his gruff expression of gratitude for giving him the pleasure of being outdoors again convinced her that taunting him had been the right thing to do.

Instinctively, she knew it had been much more than being outdoors that Julian was grateful for. He hadn’t said so, but she was certain she’d given him a small measure of his independence back. But would he believe love had been her motivation in making him realize his lack of vision only hampered him in certain things. It didn’t change who he was, how he loved, or who loved him. Patience bent her head and kissed his fingers then left the room. When she entered the dining room a few moments later, Muireall’s head jerked up to meet Patience’s gaze with a look of worry on her sweet features.

“How is he?”

“He’s still asleep, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Patience said with a smile of reassurance. “How often has he had these headaches?”

“Fairly often since the accident, but never one so bad as yesterday. But then he’s no’ gone riding since the accident either,” Muireall said with a faint note of accusation in her voice.

Patience experienced a twinge of guilt as she met her sister-in-law’s gaze. Perhaps Muireall was right. It was quite possible the ride to Eas Falloch might have been too taxing for Julian. But she knew the ride had also been good for him if only to make him feel free and independent again. She took a seat across from Muireall and placed her napkin in her lap. Patience directed a steady look at her sister-in-law.

“Riding did not give Julian a headache, Muireall.”

Patience reached for a piece of toast in the basket sitting close to her plate. She added a thin layer of black currant jam to the crisp bread and bit into the toast. The delicate mix of gooseberry and raspberry on her tongue was delicious, and she debated adding more jam to her toast. She would have to remember to compliment Mrs. Lester on the delectable preserves. She looked at her sister-in-law again.

“I know how much you love Julian and want to protect him, Muireall,” she said quietly. “But he needs to believe he’s capable of doing things one wouldn’t expect a blind person to do, such as riding.”

“But it was dangerous. He could have been thrown or worse.”

“It was no more dangerous yesterday than it was when he could see. The only difference was he needed someone to go with him as a guide.” The explanation made Muireall frown in contemplation.

“Tis true.” Her sister-in-law nodded slowly. “But I was afraid for him.”

“Do you think I wasn’t worried about him too?” Patience said as she dropped her gaze to her plate and her mind flitted back to the memory of Julian sprawled on the ground. “When he stumbled and fell just—”

“Why did you no’ tell me this before,” Muireall exclaimed. Patience shook her head.

“The man fell because he was being stubborn and refused to ask for help,” she said between clenched teeth at her sister-in-law’s unspoken condemnation. “The ride isn’t what caused his headache, and even if had, it shouldn’t change the way we must treat him from now on.”

“But I—”

“We cannot mollycoddle him,” Patience said sternly before softening her voice. “That is the last thing he needs. From what little I’ve seen, he’s been feeling quite sorry for himself, which means you have borne the brunt of his frustration.”

“You can no’ expect me no’ to help him, Patience.”

“Of course not,” she said gently. “But you must not do things for him unless he asks. If we don’t let him try to do things for himself then his spirit will be broken, and neither of us want that.”

“No, I would never want Julian to feel as though he had nothing to live for,” Muireall said with dismay furrowing her brow. “But riding? It seems…”

“It might be worrisome for us, and although he’d never admit it, I’m sure Julian must have felt a bit of apprehension himself. But he had no trouble riding yesterday morning at all. He enjoyed himself, Muireall. I’m convinced of it.”

A thoughtful look settled on her sister-in-law’s sweet features. It was one she’d seen on Julian’s face more times than she could count. In silence, she watched Muireall adjust to the idea that her brother could do a great many things for himself. After a long moment, Muireall nodded her head.

“I understand. I’m simply no’ accustomed to Julian no’ needing my help.”

“It's not a question of him not needing your help, dearest. We simply need to help him understand he’s independent and capable of doing most things on his own. But he also has to come to the realization that it's quite all right to ask for help when necessary.”

Muireall nodded her head in understanding, and Patience applied more jam to another piece of toast. If she wasn’t careful, Mrs. Lester’s preserves would be detrimental to her figure, but the black currant jam was incredibly delicious. The rustle of skirts announced Mrs. Drummond, and Patience looked toward the door as the housekeeper entered the room.

“Good morning, my lady, Miss Muireall.” The woman smiled at both of them before focusing her attention on Patience. “Might I ask how the Crianlarich is feeling, my lady.”

“He’s still sleeping, but I believe he’ll be fine when he awakens.” At Patience’s reply, the housekeeper’s worried frown was replaced with relief.

“That is indeed good to hear, my lady,” Mrs. Drummond said with a bob of her head before she changed the subject. “If I may, my lady, Nurse asked me to see if you would be coming to see Master Aiden—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drummond, that will be all,” Muireall quickly interrupted the woman in the same authoritative manner Julian often displayed. “I’ll see to it that Lady Patience finds her way to the nursery after breakfast.”

Bewildered by the brief exchange, Patience stared at first the housekeeper and then Muireall as she tried to make heads or tails out of the puzzling conversation. Who was Aiden, and why would Mrs. Drummond expect her to visit him in the nursery? Patience looked at her sister-in-law, whose expression was one of worry and apprehension, while Mrs. Drummond appeared thoroughly confused.

“Aiden?” Patience cautiously asked, and the housekeeper nodded her head as she smiled at Patience.

“The wee bairn is a bonnie lad, my lady. He looks just like the Crianlarich did when he was a little one. And the bonnie lad has your temperament, my lady. He’s such a—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drummond. I said that will be all,” Muireall interrupted the woman again.

This time her voice was almost icy. It was a tone of voice she’d never heard her sister-in-law use with anyone before. The sharp note in Muireall’s voice was designed to point out the conversation had ended.

“Of course, Miss Muireall.” The housekeeper flinched as her cheeks became flushed with embarrassment, and with a quick bob of her head the woman left the room.

Patience’s gaze focused on Muireall who was studying her with an uneasy look on her face. An icy draft blew across her skin as her surprise vanished, and she absorbed Mrs. Drummond’s words. Julian had a child. He’d told her he’d been faithful, and she’d been a fool to believe him. Her chest ached as if someone had torn her heart out. Horror followed on the heels of the sickening pain pounding its way through her. He had a son. A child the housekeeper believed was hers and Julian’s.

Dear God, Julian had told everyone she was the child’s mother. Suddenly very cold, Patience shivered. Why had he done such a thing? Did he really expect her to claim a son that wasn’t hers. A child he’d had with another woman. The thought made her twist the napkin in her lap into a tight knot. She swallowed hard to suppress the bile rising in her throat.

“Who is Aiden?” Patience asked in a stilted voice.

“Tis no’ my story to tell.” Muireall’s reply made Patience’s stomach churn.

“I’ve heard those words before,” she said bitterly. Quickly rising to her feet, she flung her napkin onto the table.

“Patience, if I—”

“Don’t, Muireall. The fact that Julian didn’t mention he had a son the day I arrived at Crianlarich indicates how important he feels it is to explain anything to me,” she bit out in a frigid voice. A small twinge of regret nipped at her as a pained look crossed the girl’s face.

She didn’t wait for Muireall to argue with her, she simply walked out of the dining room her entire body knotted with pain. Fool. You were a fool to be taken in again, Patience MacTavish. He’d lied. He’d fathered a child with another woman. An image of Una holding a baby popped into her head, and she uttered a soft cry of grief.

Patience swayed on her feet from the pain of Julian’s betrayal and reached out to cling to the newel post of the stairs. Una had been telling the truth after all. Nausea swirled in her stomach, and she dropped her head in an effort to quiet the nasty sensation.

After a moment, the sickness ebbed away, and Patience slowly climbed the stairs in a state of shock. When she reached the second floor, she turned toward her room then stopped. Numb with pain, something perverse inside her made her turn around. Patience tried to fight the urge, but her feet carried her in the direction of the nursery.

When she’d visited Crianlarich after she and Julian were married, he’d shown her the nursery. She still remembered the deep rumble of his voice against her neck as he’d teasingly asked if she wanted to work on filling the nursery at that moment. Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the passion that had followed.

The hopes and dreams she had then were little more than ashes now. If they’d ever even existed. As she entered the nursery, a matronly woman emerged from a room off the main suite. Her expression warm and cheerful, the nurse greeted her with a smile.

“Good morning, my lady, I’d hoped ye might come tae see Master Aiden this morning,” the woman said in a pleasant voice. “Let me fetch the young master for ye. He’s just had his bath.”

The nurse quickly disappeared back into the room she’d come from and returned almost immediately with a happy-looking baby. As the nurse handed the boy to her, Patience tried not to flinch. The baby came willingly and looked up at her with eyes that were just like his father’s with the same full, sooty eyelashes. He was beautiful. He was just like the child she’d longed for from the first moment Julian had possessed her body and soul.

She would never have children of her own. She would never have Julian’s children. The knowledge that everyone believed Aiden was her son only emphasized the bitter truth of her barren state. Worse, how could Julian been so cruel to propagate such a lie? Patience fought back tears at the acute pain scraping at her insides. The baby reached up to touch her face and grinned at her. She’d always loved children, and before she realized what she was doing, she sank down into the well-worn wood seat of the rocking chair at the window.

Patience didn’t know whether to laugh at the baby’s happy jabbering and smiles or to cry because she was holding Julian’s child by another woman. Julian and Una’s child. She grew still at the thought. As the aunt to almost a dozen children, she could tell Aiden was somewhere between nine and ten months old. The realization made her stiffen in consternation.

Una couldn’t be the child’s mother.

The realization sent a rush of relief spiraling through her. If Una had been Aiden’s mother, the woman could never have been able to bring Patience’s world crashing down around her that terrible day. Either the woman’s girth would have revealed she was with child or she would have been lying-in to regain her strength and nurse her baby.

Hope suddenly unfurled deep inside her as she quickly calculated dates. It was more than possible Aiden had been conceived a short time before she and Julian had met. Men had dalliances all the time. It was more than possible Julian and she had been married before he’d even known he’d sired a son. She could easily forgive him such a discretion. But where was Aiden’s mother? Had she died in childbirth, and Julian had done the honorable thing bringing his son home?

The memory of Julian not coming home the night before her marriage fell apart made her draw in a quick breath. He’d refused to tell her what had happened that night. His only defense had been that it wasn’t his secret to tell. Was that what Muireall had meant a short while ago? Had something changed and Julian could tell her where he’d been that night? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to believe him. But most of all, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to forgive him for his cruel lie.

Patience bounced the baby on her knee, and she smiled as he giggled. She bounced him again, and this time the baby squealed in delight. Suddenly, the nursery door flew open, and Muireall charged into the room.

“Nurse, have you seen Lady Pa—” The girl stopped and stared in amazement at Patience holding the baby. Suddenly aware how easily she’d fallen under the spell of the child, she quickly stood up and handed the baby to Muireall. She didn’t want to feel anything for the child. It was too painful.

“I’ve seen all I need to see,” she whispered.

“Patience, you must go see Julian, now. He wants to explain,” Muireall said with a look of panic on her face.

“I don’t wish to see him,” she said in a brittle voice. It was too soon. She needed to clear her head and regain control of her emotions so she didn’t break down into tears when she confronted Julian. “Not now, I need time to think. I can’t bear to hear any more lies.”

“Please, I do no’ like to beg, Patience, but I am begging you now,” Muireall pleaded fervently. “Listen to what Julian has to say. My brother will no’ lie to you.”

Muireall shifted the baby to set him on her hip then reached out to grab Patience’s hand in a tight grasp. The girl’s belief in her half-brother didn’t surprise her, but the conviction in the girl’s voice was persuasive enough for Patience to consider the heartfelt plea. What Muireall didn’t understand was how much it hurt that Julian had allowed everyone to believe the child was theirs. He knew how much it distressed her that she couldn’t give him a son. The thought of seeing Julian sent panic streaking through her. Patience met Muireall’s gaze then shook her head.

“I have no wish to hear what he has to say.”

“Are ye afraid to let him explain, Patience?” Muireall snapped with anger. The challenge in her sister-in-law’s voice made Patience narrow her gaze at the girl.

“No, I’m not afraid.”

“I do no’ believe ye, Patience. Ye do no’ want to listen. Ye only want tae run away.” The passionate condemnation thickened the young woman’s brogue, and Patience winced. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. She simply stared at Muireall until she acquiesced to her sister-in-law’s plea with a brusque nod.

Very well, I shall talk to him,” she said in a voice that indicated she was agreeing under duress. “But I intend to return to London as soon as Sebastian can arrange for a private rail car.”

“Please do no’ say that, Patience. Everything Julian will tell you is the truth. I know it is, but he made me swear no’ to tell anyone. He needs to be the one who explains,” Muireall said fervently.

Patience studied her sister-in-law for a moment longer then left the nursery. Muireall was convinced she would believe Julian’s explanation. What her sister-in-law didn’t know was how Julian had lied to her in the past. Although they were small lies, they’d set a precedent. How was she supposed to believe him now? And yet Muireall had insisted that things were not as they seemed, and that Julian would tell her the truth.

He’d once accused her of not trusting him. The thought made her bite down on her lip. Love required trust, and if she didn’t trust him, how could she possibly love him? Pain, fear, anger, and hope buffeted her as she slowly walked toward Julian’s rooms. When she’d decided to come back to Crianlarich Castle, she’d promised herself not only to believe Julian, but to leave the past behind.

But when she’d made that decision, she’d not bargained for this current state of affairs. The past was difficult to put behind her when there was a child in the Crianlarich nursery. A child that wasn’t hers. And the terrible lie he’d told had only emphasized her failure as a wife. She’d never known him to be cruel, which made the fabrication all the more grievous. Julian knew how much sorrow her barren state caused her.

Now she was facing the distinct possibility he’d done more than lie to her. The burnt flesh on her body was painfully taut as tension tightened every one of her muscles. But the pain didn’t compare to the agonizing way her heart was bleeding so profusely inside her breast. Would Julian proclaim his innocence with the same passion he’d done nine months ago?

In defending himself all those months ago, Julian had repeatedly said he loved her. How could he be so adamant about his love for her if it wasn’t true? Why would he have married her if he didn’t love her? She’d brought nothing of real value in the way of power or social status, neither of which Julian coveted.

Not even money could have been a reason. Despite Sebastian’s generosity, her dowry had not been an immense fortune, and she knew Julian was well off. So much so that he’d placed her dowry in her name rather than absorbing it into his finances. She’d never been so confused in her life, and she no longer knew what to think or believe. Not even her gift had given her a path to follow.

In the past, her visions had always made sense to her. Although her gift rarely served as a compass for her own affairs, it had always been a reliable gauge where others were concerned. But the visions she’d had over the past year had been vague, incomplete, and misleading. The fire. Julian’s accident. Her vision of Una holding a baby. None of those signs had allowed her the chance to stop those tragedies or even to protect her heart.

She’d not even had the slightest warning about Aiden. Had she lost her gift? The question terrified her. If she’d lost the an dara sealladh, a part of her would go missing. She’d already lost a part of herself during the fire. The idea of losing another piece of her soul filled her with dread.

Patience stopped in front of Julian’s room, and the chaotic emotions thrashing inside her made her tremble as she stared at the dark wood door. Determined to end this farce once and for all, she rapped her knuckles against the door in a strong, staccato beat. At Julian’s command to enter, she steeled herself to bury her pain and look at him without feeling anything. She failed the moment she saw him. She knew no matter what passed between them she loved him and always would.

He was fully dressed, and she was certain he’d dressed himself as his clothes were slightly askew. She swallowed hard at how handsome he looked even in an unkempt state. The stoic look on his rugged features revealed nothing as to what he was thinking. As she stared at him in silence, the urge to rage at him swept through her.

“You asked to see me,” she said quietly. It pleased her that she’d managed to keep her pain out of her voice.

“Aiden is my father’s son.”

The abrupt, unexpected confession made her stare at him in shock. Of all the explanations he could have given her, this was not even in the realm of what she’d imagined. For a moment, she simply stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head. Her mind struggled to made sense of his outrageous comment. If what he said was true, why hadn’t Muireall said the child was her half-brother? Did they both think her a fool? Anger broke through her amazement.

“Your lies have become even more imaginative than ever before, Julian,” she snapped. He stiffened at her scathing rejection.

“The child is my father’s and Caitriona’s.”

“Caitriona,” she gasped as she stared at him in astonishment. Again, he’d managed to throw her off balance.

“She was in labor the night I did no’ come home.” Julian paused for a moment as his jaw hardened with tension, and if not for the tic in his cheek she would have thought his face that of a statue. “She asked me to care for the boy.”

Patience struggled with the idea of Fergus MacTavish and Caitriona as lovers. Her thoughts drifted back to the dinner party with the Bensmores. Although she’d been preoccupied with watching Una flirt incessantly with Julian, Patience had a vague memory of Caitriona flirting with the Crianlarich as well. At the time, she’d put Caitriona’s familiar behavior down to the family’s friendship. Now she saw it in an altogether different light.

“Why didn’t your father marry Caitriona if she was carrying his child?”

“She did no’ tell him. She told no one, not even Una. My father suspected Caitriona might be with child when she disappeared, which is why he asked me to search for her. I would no’ have—been in Scotland for so long.” Julian’s jaw shifted with a restrained emotion before his stance became even more rigid and prideful. The pause in his speech made her think he’d been about to express regret about lying to her.

“Why didn’t Una tell anyone why Caitriona had left?” Patience asked quietly as she contemplated Julian’s explanation.

“Una did no’ know until she came at Caitriona’s request, and Una sought my help,” Julian said with injured pride. His dark expression made her think he was remembering her accusations of Una being his mistress. “Caitriona swore me to secrecy and gave me guardianship of the child. She did no’ want her father to know the truth.”

“Then why are you breaking your word to Caitriona and telling me all of this now?”

“I am no’ breaking my word,” Julian snarled like an angry bear as he stared blindly at a point past her head. “No’ if I keep to the letter of my promise, I am no’. Caitriona asked me no’ to tell her father about the boy and to take care of Aiden. She did no’ ask anything else of me.”

Julian stood stiff and rigid like a tall oak. His voice and demeanor illustrated he believed he was stretching the boundaries of his promise to Caitriona. Patience was certain that in her husband’s mind Caitriona had entrusted her secret to him in the belief that Julian would tell no one, not even his wife, of her shame.

“And now, after all this time, you’ve suddenly decided to share Caitriona’s secret with me. How benevolent of you.” Patience didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Bloody hell. I’d been up all night, woman, I was no’ thinking straight,” he roared. “I would no’ have kept anything from you that day if I’d no’ been so dead tired.

“Yet you’ve had nine months to realize your vow to Caitriona wasn’t completely binding,” she snapped. “You had nine months to tell me the truth.”

“If you’ll recall you refused to speak with me. You sent me away.”

“With good reason it seems, since you only seem compelled to share this sordid tale now is because you need an explanation as to why you lied and made everyone think I’m Aiden’s mother.”

“I did no’ lie,” he growled. His response was a dangerous rumble of anger. “My father is the one who chose to say Aiden was his grandchild. I did no’ discover the truth about what my father had done until after—until I returned to Crianlarich.”

Everything he’d said had the strong ring of truth to it. His voice had echoed with a fervent strength that encouraged her to believe him, yet he’d not asked her to do so. Despite her belief he was speaking the truth, he’d not explained why he’d helped to perpetuate his father’s lies.

“And yet you didn’t refute the lie when you returned home. You continued to let everyone believe your father’s lies.” This time it was impossible to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Our marriage was over. I had no reason to believe you would ever return to Crianlarich.” Julian’s icy words skated across her skin to sink deep into her pores until she longed for the warmth of a blanket. “I had planned to tell the boy the truth when he was old enough. I thought it best no’ to have the lad branded a bastard simply because my father did no’ marry his lover.”

Over. The word echoed in her head like a death sentence. He’d actually said their marriage was over. A chunk of ice in her breast pumped cold blood through her veins. She’d lost everything. All because she’d refused to believe him—trust him. Patience winced and took a step toward him then immediately stopped.

She was certain he would reject any apology she offered. His demeanor was that of a proud Highlander from the distant past who’d been accused of a crime by a British tyrant. She flinched at the thought. She was no better. She was responsible for setting her marriage on the path to destruction, not Julian. And now she might have lost the chance to win his heart back. She was abruptly startled out of her thoughts as Julian released a low growl of something that bordered on the edge of disgust.

“My father wronged you with his lies, Patience, but I can no’ take them back,” he growled in a rough voice.

“And if I’d not come to Crianlarich, would you have told me what your father had done?”

A long pause followed her soft question as Julian fumbled in his efforts to retrieve the cane resting against the front of his bed. The tense silence of the room was broken by the tap of his stick against the floor as he moved toward her. Julian brushed past her, and despite her anger her senses drank in the warm, spice scent of him. Patience watched as his hand wrapped around the brass doorknob, and he jerked the door open.

“I’ve told you everything, Patience. Now pack your things and get out of my house.”

The low, icy command scraped across her senses like a razor. She stared at his harsh, unyielding features with a feeling of hopelessness. He said their marriage was over, and now he was emphasizing that statement by showing her the door. Patience’s heart sank before her Rockwood blood slid hot and fierce in her veins. Julian might say their marriage was over, but she wasn’t willing to walk away from him until she was certain she couldn’t reach his heart.

“I believe you, Julian.” The cold expression on his face didn’t change as he remained where he was. “Did you hear me, Julian?”

“I heard you,” he said in a cold, heartless voice.

“And you have nothing to say to me?” she asked as her body tensed at his inflexible expression.

“What you think, no longer matters to me, Patience. Now get out and do no’ come back.”

The indifference in his voice made her heart skip a beat. His voice was so detached and unfeeling. It was almost as if he were impervious to her. No, he couldn’t be. If he were, how could he have kissed her so passionately the day she’d arrived at Crianlarich? Then there was the quiet camaraderie they’d had at the falls and the way he’d kissed her in the glade.

No, she’d hurt his pride all those months ago, and after the fire, she’d cast him aside. There had to be a way to reach him. Frantically, she tried to think of something that would help break through the barriers between them. The solution came to her in one delicious breath of anticipation. Seduction.

She would seduce her proud, beautiful Highlander. Intimacy had a way of breaking through every emotional barrier there was. It was the most base of emotions, and she had to believe Julian would reveal his true feelings in the heat of passion. Patience pushed aside her fears as determination bloomed inside her. A Rockwood never went down without a fight, and she refused to be the first one in her family to walk away from a challenge.

Slowly, she approached the door and touched the strong fingers gripping the doorknob. Julian immediately jerked away from her and shuffled two steps backward. As she quietly closed the door, Julian turned away in the belief that she was gone. The soft rustle of her skirts made his back become ramrod straight with what she thought was surprise.

The moment he turned around she realized differently, and she trembled at the fury she saw on his face. She’d taken on a challenge that would have intimidated even Angus Stewart himself. Patience’s mouth went dry as she stepped backward until her back was against the door. She stared at him as he pinned his sightless eyes on her as if he could see her. Gathering her courage, she swallowed hard.

“I have no intention of going anywhere,” she said with unshakable resolve. “I’m still your wife, which makes this my home as well.”

“Do no’ make me say or do something I shall regret, Patience.” His voice was dark with an emotion she’d never heard before. It made her think of a wounded animal that had been cornered.

“There’s nothing you can do to me, Julian MacTavish, that hasn’t already been done.”

The dismissive note in her voice made him release a low, primitive sound that sent her heart skidding out of control in trepidation. Perhaps she’d made a mistake in taunting him. As if he could see her without any problem, he closed the small distance between them.

Instinct pushed her spine deeper into the door and away from him as she recognized the predatory nature of his stance. His heat pressing into hers, Julian bent his head until his mouth lightly touched the burnt flesh of her ear. Without thinking, she jerked her head away from his lips, and instantly regretted the move.

Cold amusement crossed his sharp, angular features as his body pinned her to the door. Despite her best intentions, a tremor shook through her at the suppressed violence pulsating off him and into her body. This wasn’t the man she’d married or made love to in the past. This was an untamed warrior Scotsman—a man unwilling to give any quarter. As she stared up at him, her heart skidded out of control. He was magnificent, and she was determined to make him hers again.

“Are you afraid, my lady?” he asked with a biting sarcasm that infuriated her.

“Of you? Never,” she said fiercely as she chose to fight fire with fire. Her hand cupped the back of his strong neck and she tugged his head down toward hers to kiss him hard. Julian stiffened against her for a brief moment before his body roughly pressed her deeper into the wood door behind her. It was a display of domination, and a small thrill raced through her. He immediately took control of the kiss, his mouth crushing hers beneath his.

The raw heat of him engulfed her like a hot summer day just before a thunderstorm. Inside her breast, her heart pounded a familiar rhythm of white-hot passion. He’d always had the ability to excite her, but the wild emotion heating her blood now was unlike anything she’d ever experienced between them. It was a wild, primitive throbbing that made her body ache to feel his skin against hers.

His tongue thrust its way into her mouth and tangled with hers in a fiery dance of passion. Mint teased her taste buds as her fingers scrunched up the warm wool of his work kilt to touch a rock hard thigh. A large hand tugged at her bodice and the soft pop of buttons being torn free of her gown echoed in her ears. As his hand roughly yanked her bodice open, she trembled with excitement. It was an undisciplined act that said he was out of control.

A sultry warmth swirled in the pit of her stomach. It spread its way through her veins until her entire body ached with a familiar need. Patience’s fingers brushed across his inner thigh to grasp his thick, hard length. The low growl echoing out of him sent her heart skidding out of control. Her hand tightened and slid upward to the tip of him where she found a small drop of male heat. She smeared it over the top of his erection. He was hard as steel, yet his skin was velvety smooth against the pads of her fingers.

Another note of dark desire rumbled in his chest as he tugged her gown down to her waist. The moment his mouth caressed the top of her breasts she drew in a sharp breath that became a small moan when she exhaled. Need swept through her with the ferocity of a wild wind that threatened to carry her over a cliff of mindless passion. Desperate to feel his skin against hers, she released her hold on him to push his jacket off his broad shoulders.

It fell to the floor, as his hands assisted hers in removing his vest and shirt. The tips of her fingers trailed a slow path across his skin then paused over the beat of his heart. Hard and rapid it pounded a fierce pace beneath his skin. The pulse of it reverberated through her fingertips and into her body. A strong, masculine hand wrapped around the nape of her neck as he forced her head back to capture her mouth with his in a hard kiss. It seared her lips with the sinfully hot taste of his desire.

Without hesitation she surrendered to the silent demand of his lips. As Julian branded her with his mouth, his hands pushed her gown off her hips until it fell to the floor. Every part of her burned with need, and in a quick movement she freed herself from his embrace to circle around him and pressed herself into his back.

A low, dark sound of protest erupted out of him, and she smiled as she pressed one kiss after another against the hard muscles of his back. He was the sharp edge of everything male against her lips. Spice and the soft scent of leather teased her senses as she savored the hot taste of him. She could happily spend the rest of her life caressing his body like this. Love and desire swept through her to heighten the raw passion streaking through her blood.

Her hands glided over his shoulders and moved downward until she reached the buckle of his kilt. Before she could undo the metal clasp, long masculine fingers pushed hers aside. In seconds, he’d made short work of the rest of his clothing until he was completely naked. The moment he turned to face her, she drew in a sharp breath. Had he always been this beautiful or was she simply appreciating him more because she’d not been in his arms for so long?

Julian’s sightless gaze was focused on a point above her head, and she reached out to clasp his hand in hers. She took a step backwards toward the bed, gently pulling him with her. A frown of frustration began to replace the desire darkening his features. Alarmed his affliction might stem the tide of his desire, she quickly stepped forward to pull his head down and kiss him hard. In response to the heated caress, his hands gripped her waist to pull her into his unyielding embrace once more.

The hard, thick length of him pressed against her thigh, and desire coiled in her stomach. It unfurled and spread through her until her body clung to his. The moment she deliberately shifted her hips so his erection was pressed into the apex of her thighs, he released a low growl of desire. Once more she escaped his grasp and pulled him with her the last few steps to the bed.

They tumbled down onto the mattress, and her lips clung to his as she undid the tapes of her combination garment. His hands brushed hers out of the way as he finished the task for her and tugged the corset from her body. Despite his lack of vision, his touch was as confident and sure as if he could see her. A large hand reached for the bodice of her chemise, and the garment screamed a soft protest as the fabric ripped beneath the strength of his hands to fall off her. Startled, she gasped loudly and a rush of excitement streaked through her at the primal act. He worked quickly until her shoes and stockings were all that was left.

Fire blazed its way up across her skin as he took his time easing her stocking downward. The moment his hands touched the destroyed tissue on her leg she stiffened. Unable to prevent it, she jerked away from his touch. It was a reaction of sheer self-preservation. An odd expression crossed his face, and his hand grew still against her leg. In the haze of desire, she thought it was a look of despair. But the emotion vanished too quickly to tell as his touch drove everything out of her mind.

Julian quickly removed the stocking from her scarred limb, and his fingers didn’t linger as he removed the other stocking. When her legs were bare, he ran one hand up her unmarked leg. The moment he lowered his head, she drew in a sharp breath, which became a quiet moan as he branded her with a gentle nip of the flesh of her inner thigh.

The primitively possessive action caused her breath to come in small pants as his teeth abraded her skin, and his mouth worked its way to the apex of her thigh. A strong hand caressed her stomach, before he pushed her back into the mattress. In one heated stroke, his mouth caressed her sex, and she arched upward with a soft cry of pleasure. His tongue licked and stroked her until with a hard shudder, she climaxed. He continued to caress her with his mouth as she trembled against him.

Slowly her tremors abated, and he slid his hard body up over hers to take one nipple into his mouth. A small cry of need escaped her at the primal urges stirring in her. She wanted him—needed him inside her. She tried to shift her body beneath his in a silent demand, but he used the weight of his body to pin her down. In all the times he’d made love to her, she’d never experienced such an intense, primal need for him to make her his. Unfulfilled desire spilled through her at the way his body was controlling hers. It had been her idea to seduce him, but he’d taken control of her body the same way he had her heart from the moment they met.

“Oh God, please, Julian…I need you,” she whispered as she tried to move beneath him. In the next breath, his body moved against hers, and he thrust into her hard and fast. As he filled her, she cried out in joyful surprise. Heat and pleasure engulfed her until everything disappeared and the only thing in her world was him and his touch.

Chapter 12

The moment Julian thrust into her, his body was complete again. White-hot velvet wrapped around his cock, as her body clutched tightly around him in an attempt to hold him in place. Slowly he retreated, then slid into her again, delaying the ultimate pleasure his body was begging for. The small spasms vibrating around his cock indicated her body was demanding satisfaction as well. But he refused to lose control so easily.

He was determined to savor these few moments with her. He could not afford to succumb to his wife’s tempting mouth and body again. The need to bury himself deep inside her made him slip his arms beneath her legs and tilt her body upward. With the soft cheeks of her bottom pressed against his thighs, he filled her completely in one swift stroke.

With each thrust into her sweet, hot core, his body cried out with unrestrained pleasure. God help him, she was as tight now as she’d been the first time he’d made love to her. His cock stretched and hardened as he drove himself into her over and over again. With each moan that blew past her lips, his body craved her with a renewed strength.

The silky heat of her cream against his cock mixed with the soft, musky scent of her desire. It clouded his thoughts until she was the air he breathed. Her body tightened around him, and he realized she was on the verge of a climax. But he wasn't ready to part with her so quickly. Not now. It was too soon. He slid out of her until he was just at the edge of her sex.

“No, oh God no, Julian, ” she said hoarsely as she writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop… oh, please.”

Every part of him was taut with desire, and the need pulsating in her voice made his blood roar. His breathing ragged, he bowed his head and drew in the essence of her with each and every one of his senses. She was nothing but a shadowy form to his eyes, but there was so much more to her than what his eyes had told him in the past. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. Their lips met in a fiery meld of passion, and he thrust his tongue into the warmth of her sweet mouth.

The hint of tart gooseberries melted its way across his tongue. Her hands slipped between them to touch him, and he quickly grasped her wrists and pinned her to the bed. With a small cry, she tried to tug free of his grasp. Attuned to every part of her, Julian sensed a wave of panic rising inside her as his fingers gripped her scarred wrist. Quickly, he released his hold on her and softened their kiss as his fingers entwined with hers.

The moment his fingers were no longer pressed into her burnt flesh, she relaxed. It was a fleeting observation as the taste of her pushed him close to the edge of a place only she would ever be able to take him. He lifted his head and plunged back into her again. His reward was her small scream of delight.

Although it was impossible to see her face, the quiet pants of excitement escaping her brought back the memory of moments when he’d watched her come apart in his arms. Slowly, he retreated from her then drove back into her once more, taking pleasure in her small cries of ecstasy.

With each thrust he increased the speed of his strokes, his body in harmony with everything about her. She was a part of him, and the sudden spasms clutching his cock made him draw in a sharp breath of anticipation. Furiously, he thrust his body into hers with deep, powerful strokes. Beneath him, she thrust her hips upward in a sharp movement then froze against him as her hot velvety core grabbed him tight.

He breathed her into his senses, and she exploded over him with an intensity that made him pump his body harder and faster into her. She continued to writhe beneath him, her scream of pleasure music to his ears. Intense pleasure rolled over him as his body caught the wave of passion. He rode along the edge of it until a shout poured out of his throat and he throbbed inside her.

For a long moment, he remained joined with her as the last raw-edged emotions ebbed away from his heart and body. The ragged breathing parting her lips matched his own as her climax continued to tug at his body. The reality of what had just happened made his heart sink. What had he done?

The question was rhetorical. He’d made love to his wife. There was no sin in that. No, it wasn’t a sin, but it illustrated how easily his passion for her could bring him to his knees. That was a dangerous thing. It gave her the power to destroy him all over again. He refused to endure a repeat of that hellish existence.

The fact she’d come to Crianlarich to be his caregiver, whether out of duty or pity, was painful enough. A gentle hand caressed his cheek, and he batted it away in a rough gesture. The soft sound she made was indecipherable, but the sudden tension flowing through her body made his harden in response.

With a swift move he retreated from her and left the bed. The pent-up need for her over the past months had made him lose sight of the fact as to why she’d come to Crianlarich. If she’d come back because she loved him, she would have said so. She would have told him she’d made a mistake not to believe him. But she hadn’t.

Still, she’d been the one to instigate their moment of passion. Did it mean she felt something more for him than simply a sense of responsibility as his wife? Even if she still had feelings for him, what sort of husband would he make as a blind man? More importantly, he would never really be certain that love had made her return to Crianlarich. How could he when even after the fire she accused him of being unfaithful with one simple word.

“Julian?”

Even with her voice she had the ability to twist his insides. Any other man would be willing to accept what she’d given him moments ago without hesitation. He wasn’t one of them.

“Get dressed,” he said between clenched teeth.

Julian turned away from the bed and tried to remember where he’d left his clothes. Infuriated by his inability to see, he stood still. The last thing he wanted was the humiliation of winding up on the floor in front of his wife.

“Julian, please, we need to talk.”

The air whispered softly beside him as she moved to stand in front of him. As she pressed her body into his, he froze. God help him. Just the feel of her against his skin made him want to drag her back to his bed.

“There’s nothing to say, my lady. You’ve done your wifely duties and quite enthusiastically I might add.”

His words slashed through the air like one of the Claymores hanging in the main hall. The sharp gasp of horror escaping her said the brutality of his comment had achieved the effect he intended. Yet it pained him to be cruel. Suddenly, her finger poked painfully into his chest, and he grunted at the hard jab.

“One could say the same of you, you bastard,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me you felt nothing a moment ago.”

Hope barreled through him. He savagely destroyed it. He was tired of praying for something that would never happen. All he wanted now was for Patience to leave Crianlarich. Her presence at the castle threatened his peace of mind. Any minute he was apt to reveal he’d never stop loving her, and that would be the end of him. Compassion for his blindness was difficult enough to deal with. For her to pity him for loving her—he refused to let that happen.

“I’ll no’ deny feeling lust, lass,” he said with soft deliberation. “I have always enjoyed our romps in the bedchamber.”

He didn’t have to see her face to feel the violence in her sharp retreat from him. Guilt plowed through him at the small sound she made. It was the noise a hare made when it was at the mercy of a predator. Although he’d deliberately pushed her away with his words, every part of him wanted to close the expanse growing between them.

The dangerous thought died a quick death as he crushed it. The silence hanging in the air between them was hard as steel. It clanged against his senses and threatened to break his steadfast desire to push her as far away from him as he could.

“I always knew you were a stubborn man, Julian MacTavish, but I never thought you to be a cruel one.”

“Would you prefer I lied to you, Patience?” he said with restrained bitterness. “Can you no’ agree that when we have shared a bed it has been quite satisfying.”

“Yes,” she bit out in a strained voice. “But those weren’t just moments of pleasure. They were…we cared for each other then.”

“Aye, but I do no’ see things now as I did in the past.” A long silence suspended the gap between them, and his muscles were twisted in painful knots.

“Are you saying you never loved me?”

The whisper echoed with a horrified pain that made him hesitate. Damn fate for taking away his ability to see her face. If he could see her face right now, he’d know for certain how she felt. She’d never been able to hide her feelings behind a blank expression, but her voice was different since she’d arrived at Crianlarich. He’d not been able to determine what she was really thinking simply based on the inflections in her voice. It didn’t matter, and he hardened his heart.

“Love is for the foolish, lass. It is fleeting at best.”

The sharp inhalation of air she drew in would have been barely audible to someone whose auditory senses weren’t sharpened like his. The sound made him long to take the words back.

“Blindness has revealed that you are your father’s son, Julian,” she said with contempt.

The accusation stung like a blow from a whip. The love he’d felt for his father had not blinded him to the man’s faults. Now Patience was declaring that he possessed his father’s trait of being callous and unsympathetic. Julian’s mouth tightened as he realized he deserved her scorn. But at least it would ensure her departure. He glared in the direction of her voice.

“Then it should no’ be difficult for you to leave Crianlarich for a second time,” he bit out through clenched teeth thinking he’d resolved his problem.

“I won’t give you that satisfaction.”

The outrage and stubbornness in her voice made his heart sink, and he barely suppressed a growl of frustration. She’d always been one to dig in her heels when it came to something she did or didn’t want to do.

“Do as you please, my lady,” he said through clenched teeth. “But do no’ come in here again. I have no use for a wife who thinks to act as my mistress as well as my nursemaid.”

A breeze stirred the air around him as she moved past him, and her body was a fire brushing across his skin. The sound of clothes thrashing in the air filled his ears as she snatched her belongings up off the bedroom floor. He turned his head toward the furious rustling of her dress.

Despite only seeing the gray silhouette of her body, he didn’t miss the way she snapped upright in a sharp movement. In the next instant, he watched her shadow stalk away from him toward the door. Stunned that she might actually think to walk through the corridors wearing nothing he opened his mouth then quickly closed it. The door she was heading toward wasn’t to the corridor. She was headed to the bedroom that adjoined his—the mistress of the castle’s room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he snarled. Julian stumbled forward, trying to close the distance between him and her shadow. He saw the dark outline of her body move abruptly as she whirled to face him.

“I’m going to my room,” she said with an icy anger he’d never heard before. As he continued to haltingly close the distance between them, he tried to process the fact that she’d been sleeping in the room next to him since her arrival at Crianlarich. Her shadow remained frozen against the pale gray background of his vision.

“Why would you choose the bedroom that belongs to the mistress of the house?” he growled with anger, uncaring whether he frightened her not. “Did you think it would make it easier for you to see to my needs?”

“I took the room because your sister insisted, and because for all intents and purposes I am the mistress of this house, you arrogant jackass.” Patience turned away from him once more, and he followed.

“You can no’ sleep there, Patience,” he growled fiercely.

Julian reached out to keep her from leaving the room. Rough, scaly skin rubbed against the pads of his fingers. The scarred skin distracted him for a moment as a raw anguish for what she’d suffered crashed through him. Before he could say a word, she broke free of his grasp with a violent tug.

“Do not touch me.” Block ice cut from Crianlarich’s frozen loch in the dead of winter could have warmed the air between them better than her voice.

“Why should I no’ touch you, Patience?” He tried to direct his sightless gaze to where her face should be. “As my wife, I have the right to touch you whenever and however I wish.”

“Whenever and however—” she exclaimed with all the fire of the Stewart clan. “You can go straight to hell, Julian MacTavish. The law may give you the right to take what you want of me, but you will not find me a willing participant.”

“But were you no’ willing to let me touch you just a few moments ago?” he murmured as he stepped forward and her clothes brushed across his chest.

“That was different… I was…” The faint hint of lilacs drifted beneath his nose. He’d always loved the way she smelled. The confusion in her voice puzzled him as he sensed her anger had dissipated. The sudden tension pulsating in her beat its way into his own body.

“You were what, Patience?”

“I was trying… I wanted… I wanted to make it like it was before everything went wrong between us.”

The statement made him stiffen. He closed his eyes for a brief moment then turned away from her. His clothes—where did he leave his clothes? He visualized where he’d left them and cautiously moved forward. Grateful he knew every inch of his bedroom, his feet brushed against his shirt. He bent over and retrieved it then pushed his arms into the sleeves. As he buttoned the linen garment he cleared his throat.

“Why would you want things to be as they were, Patience? You made your opinion of me quite clear several months ago.” Julian heard the bitterness echoing in his quiet words.

“I was wrong,” she said softly. An undefined emotion ran like a fast Highland brook beneath her words. “I should have believed you—trusted you.”

Stunned by her words, Julian’s fingers fumbled as he buckled his kilt. It was the second time since she’d returned that she’d been wrong not to believe him. He turned toward her.

“Do you no’ think it’s a bit late for that, Patience,” he said in a tight voice. After all this time she’d chosen this moment to admit she judged him wrongly. He wasn’t sure what to make of her change of heart.

“No, I don’t think it’s ever too late,” she said softly yet in a firm voice that exemplified her stubborn Rockwood nature. “I told you a long time ago that we married too quickly. We didn’t take the time to get to know each other first.”

“Are you proposing we do that now?” Tension made his jaw ache. “It does no’ make sense to do so when we are to be divorced.”

The soft rustle of her gown broke the stillness in the room. Julian froze as he breathed in her sweet scent the instant she stopped in front of him. Although she barely made a sound, the fragility vibrating off her puzzled him.

“We are both different people now, Julian. But we cared for each other once.” Her voice was a piece of silk sliding across his senses. “Can’t we just try to find the people we once were inside the people we are now?”

Patience’s hand grasped his. The touch sent an electric shock up his arm. Of all the women he’d ever known, she was the only one who had the ability to bring him to his knees whenever she asked for something. This time it was different. In the back of his head, a warning as loud as the screech from a badly played bagpipe filtered its way to the front of his brain.

He’d be a fool to agree to her proposition. But deep inside he was willing to be that fool if it meant having just a few hours more with her before she walked out of his life forever. His tongue was thick in his mouth as he debated how to agree to her proposal without revealing he was a drowning man eager to accept her offer of a life preserver.

“Please, Julian.” If he’d not already made up his mind, her fervent, sweet plea would have easily convinced him.

“As you wish,” he said with a stoicism that blessedly hid the strength of the emotions racing through him.

“Thank you,” she said.

The note of relief in her voice took him by surprise. Was it possible she’d been worried he’d say no? Had she forgotten he’d never been able to say no to her? An awkward silence drifted between them until she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. The unexpected caress was a tender one that astonished him.

“Shall we go for a walk after Mrs. Lester sends up some breakfast for you?” The sweet note of her voice was almost that of a loving wife. Desperately, he tried to stifle the happiness threatening to rob him of all his senses. God almighty, what would he do when she left him? He chose to ignore the question.

“If you like.”

Julian nodded as he allowed himself to relish the contentment slowly winding its way through him. He would deal with the hell he’d be cast into once she was gone. Until then he would savor the time he had with her.

§ § §

The sun warmed Julian’s face as he walked through the thick grass with Patience’s arm linked with his. They walked for some distance in a silence that was awkward, yet pleasant, at the same time. A small laugh escaped her.

“I’m feeling as gauche as a debutante at her first ball.” Her voice was a breathless sound that reminded him of the night he’d met her.

“As I recall you were equally flustered the night we met.”

“I was not,” she exclaimed. The moment he arched his eyebrows she laughed. “All right, flustered. But not without cause, you terrified me.”

“What the devil did I do that made you afraid of me?” he growled irritated by the thought he’d made her uncomfortable at their first meeting.

“I think terrifying is the wrong word,” she said ruefully. “Perhaps intimidating is a better choice. Every woman in the room was glaring at me from the moment Ewan MacLaren introduced us.”

“I did no’ notice,” he said with a shrug. Julian wasn’t about to admit she was the only thing he could concentrate on that night.

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” There was a smile in her voice that made him visualize the way her mouth always quirked upward when she was amused. “You’ve always been oblivious as to how women look at you or me when I’m with you.”

“I mean I did no’ notice because all I could see was you.”

“Oh.” Her response was little more than a gasp and a smile tugged his mouth. “Did I no’ ever tell you why I asked Ewan to introduce us?”

“No,” she murmured.

“It was because of your laugh.”

“My laugh?” she said with surprise.

“Aye, that and your appetite. I have never cared for women who do no’ allow themselves to enjoy a meal.”

“I think I prefer the first reason over the second.” The musical sound of her laugh was as warm as the sun on his face. He grinned.

“Perhaps I should have said your appetite was the first thing about you I found pleasing then your laugh.”

“I would still prefer my laugh as the main reason you had Ewan introduce us.”

“I was worried he might not have,” he muttered with a scowl as he remembered the other man’s reluctance to present him to Patience.

“Why would he do that?”

“He said he had been considering courting you himself.”

“Good Lord,” she gasped.

“Then you would no’ have accepted his suit?”

“Ewan?” Her body shook slightly, and he realized she was shaking her head vigorously. “No. I like him a great deal, but he’s even more intimidating than you.”

“I do no’ like the way you keep using the word intimidating,” he grumbled in disgust.

“Don’t you dare try to deny it, Julian MacTavish.”

“I do no’ intimidate people.”

Annoyed, he came to an abrupt stop. Patience stumbled as he halted and clung to him to avoid falling. He tried not to enjoy the pleasant sensation of her pressed into his side. He failed.

“Oh? Then explain why you didn’t ask, but arrogantly stated you would take me riding the next day.”

“Do no’ make me sound like a tyrant,” he snapped.

“I’m not trying to. But you do like to get your own way. That’s something entirely different.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and he grimaced.

“I wanted you to myself,” he muttered defensively. “Name something else where you find me intimidating.”

“The day you proposed,” she said quietly. “You refused to listen to my objections that it was too soon to marry.”

“If you did no’ want to marry me, why did you?” he said stiffly. Did she really believe he’d coerced her into marrying him?

“I married you because I fell in love with you.”

Her reply referred to the past not the present and his heart sank. Patience didn’t speak for a long moment. Despite her request they get to know one another better, he didn’t have the courage to ask her how she felt now. She suddenly heaved a sigh.

“It was also hard for me to believe you could love me as much as I loved you.”

“You do no’ make any sense, Patience. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because every other man in the past who’d courted me, for whatever reason, never stayed.”

“They were fools,” he bit out. A cold chill sprinted through his veins at the thought he might have lost her to another man.

“No, they simply didn’t want an eccentric wife,” she said. “Especially a wife incapable of…”

“Incapable of what?” Julian frowned at the note of sorrow in her voice.

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

Her dispassionate response almost hid her grief, but he heard it nonetheless. The sudden memory of her blaming herself for her brother’s death shortly after she woke up at Melton House filled his head. Did she really think she was to blame for Devon and Caleb? He came to an abrupt halt, and she stumbled against him once more, a small cry of surprise escaping her.

“Do no’ say it’s nothing,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “You did no’ finish that remark because you think that unless you interpret the an dara sealladh correctly you are to blame when bad things happen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, but he heard the guilt layered beneath her words

“You forget I was there when Caleb and Devon died,” he snarled. “I saw your face when they fell, and I heard you blame yourself after the fire.”

“Very well,” she said in a harsh voice. “I am to blame. I had the same vision three different times, and I failed to understand what it meant. If I had, maybe I could have saved them—saved you and your father.”

“Christ almighty, Patience. Even if you could have known there would be a fire or the carriage accident, you could no’ have known when or where the events would take place. You have always said your visions are no’ always clear. You can no’ blame yourself.”

Silence greeted his fierce censure, and he desperately wished he could see her face. She pulled away from him, but Julian immediately reached out for her. His fingers slipped on the smooth silk of her sleeve until his hand caught her wrist and held her fast. Beneath his fingers a hard layer of scar tissue made him wince. The moment he did so, she stiffened and tugged hard against his firm hold. Julian let her go, his brain trying to comprehend the pain she’d suffered. It was impossible to do so.

For the first time, it occurred to him that her rejection of him after the fire might not have been her belief he’d been unfaithful, but something altogether different. What if it hadn’t been the discord between them, but her fear he would find her hideous after being burned so badly. She’d not only refused to see him after the fire, but the rest of the Rockwood clan had found themselves barred from her rooms. The only exceptions for the first three months were the doctor and Aunt Matilda.

If Patience had thought herself a monster then, he could only imagine what she might think his reaction would be. Aunt Matilda had said the scars were not as bad as Patience thought. But if he was right, it indicated how little Patience knew him. The only thing her scars would ever stir in him was the fact that he couldn’t have carried the burden of the pain she’d suffered.

Her scars would never make him love her any less. They could only make him love her all the more for her courage. How was it he’d never taken the time to explain to Patience what it was about her that he loved? From the first moment he’d heard her laughter, it had been her heart—her soul—that had called to him. It had taken just one look into her brown eyes, and he’d been lost.

“I wish I’d died that night, too,” her whisper was almost audible, but it jerked him out of his thoughts as if she’d slapped him. Anger swelled over him like a powerful wave. His hands grasped her shoulders as he growled at his inability to see her face.

“I told ye once before ye are never tae say such a thing again in my presence, Patience MacTavish,” he growled with a tight fury he could barely contain. “No’ ever. Do you understand?”

When she didn’t answer he shook her hard.

“Answer me, Patience. Do ye understand?”

“Yes.” There were tears in her voice and instinct made him pull her close.

“It was no’ your fault, Patience. It was a tragedy, one ye can no’ take the blame for, lass. It was terrible enough for your family to lose Caleb and Devin. Would ye be so selfish as to wish one more death for all of us to grieve for?”

Patience shuddered against him. Julian’s arms tightened around her as he remembered the look of defeat on her face after the two men had fallen into the flames. He’d been certain she’d resigned herself to death at that moment in time as well. The thought had filled him with a horror unlike anything he’d ever known, and he’d made her angry enough to leap through the fire into his arms.

Now, after all she’d been through, to hear her say she wished he’d just stood by and watched her die made him realize the extent of her anguish. It wasn’t simply the physical agony she’d suffered for so long after the fire. He knew she was convinced her scars made her a monster. But those scars represented more than just her mistaken notion that she was a monstrous creature to be pitied. They were a constant reminder of the horrors of that night. Patience slowly pushed her way out of his arms and stepped back from him.

“I think we should go back to the house,” she said in a composed voice. “It’s almost teatime, and you didn’t eat very much lunch.”

“Do no’ try to change the subject.”

“I’m not. I’m simply refusing to discuss the past anymore.”

“For how long?” he demanded harshly. “You can no’ let this fester inside you, Patience. It is no’ healthy.”

“Let me be, Julian. I have no desire to discuss the matter any further.” The obstinate tone in her voice made him frown. He’d backed her into a corner, and if he pushed her too hard he would live to regret it.

“As you wish,” he said with a shrug as he fought to hide his frustration. Patience slid her arm through his again, but didn’t press into him as she had earlier. It indicated the invisible gap between them had widened, and he didn’t know if it were possible to bridge the divide.

Chapter 13

“Kings bishop four to kings three. Checkmate.”

The clink of marble against the marble echoed its way upward to the library’s tall ceiling as Muireall planted her chess piece on the board. In his mind’s eye, all of the chess pieces and their placement were vividly etched in his head. Julian growled softly at how Muireall had capitalized on the error he’d made a few moves back. His sister’s gleeful laugh made him scowl in her direction.

“You do no’ need to gloat, Muireall. It is no’ ladylike,” he grumbled.

Beside him, he could hear the faint coughing noise Patience made as she choked back laughter. He turned his head toward the sound. Although he could not see her face, he knew she was struggling to hide her amusement. The instant he scowled at her, she laughed as hard as his sister.

“I do no’ understand what you find so amusing,” he said with irritation.

“I’m sorry, Julian,” Muireall said with distinct amusement.

“You do no’ sound like it.” He shook his head in disgust.

“If it makes you feel better, you were close to winning.” This time there was a note of regret in Muireall’s voice, and he grimaced. Before he could say anything, Patience’s hand touched his forearm in a silent gesture of chastisement.

“Don’t you dare feel guilty for winning, Muireall MacTavish,” Patience chided. “You won fair and square. Your brother had the advantage until just a few moments ago. He’s simply annoyed that you took advantage of his mistake.”

“A mistake caused by my wife,” Julian growled.

“Me?” Patience’s voice was filled with surprise and amused disbelief.

“Aye, the honey-sweet scent of your hair distracted me,” he said as he bit back a grin. Patience grew still beside him, and Muireall gave an unladylike snort of laughter.

“Your face is red, Patience.”

Julian grinned openly as the air stirred beside him the moment Patience lifted her hands to her face. When he sensed her about to retreat from him, he quickly caught her hand. The horrific scars from her burns were on the opposite side of her body, and she didn’t try to jerk free of his grasp. Deliberately he traced a small circle in the small hollow of her wrist with his thumb. Julian heard her rapid breathing, and he carried her hand upward to kiss her fingertips.

“On second thought, I should have said it was your perfume that distracted me. Lilacs smell delightful on your skin, my lady.”

The tremor that rippled through her vibrated into his fingers. He smiled as satisfaction surged through him. Over the past three weeks, Patience had ensured that everything between them was as circumspect as possible. It was obvious she was determined to have the courtship they hadn’t had before they were married. This was the first time she’d allowed him to touch her since the day he’d made love to her.

Other than to accept the offer of his arm or when their fingers touched when she handed something, she’d avoided physical contact with him as much as possible. Somehow he didn’t think she was worried about him coercing her back into his bed—something he was beginning to crave like a man without drink. More than likely her distant manner was rooted in her fear he would bring up the past.

“You are an unrepentant rogue, Julian MacTavish,” his wife said with a breathless laugh.

“I shall no’ deny that.” He chuckled in an unapologetic manner. “But I find it easy to do so where you’re concerned.”

“Stop teasing her, Julian,” his sister said with a laugh. “Her cheeks are bright red now.”

“Are they?” Julian grinned and then he frowned. He wanted to see his wife’s face when he complimented her. Patience had always blushed so sweetly. No longer amused, Julian released Patience’s hand. The grandfather clock in the main hall announced the half hour in a sonorous chime.

“It’s time you were in bed, Muireall.”

“I am no longer a child, Julian,” his sister said crisply. “I will be seventeen next week.”

“Aye, that you will,” he said with a nod as Muireall reminded him how quickly she was growing up. “But it’s still late. Patience and I should retire as well since we are riding in the morning.”

“Why not come with us, Muireall?” Patience’s invitation made Julian’s mouth tighten as he fought to appear amenable to the idea of his sister accompanying them on their morning ride.

“I can no’. I promised Mrs. Lester that I would review the dinner menu for my birthday party next week,” Muireall said with obvious regret before her tone lightened. “But the day after tomorrow I would like to go. Will you ride then, Julian?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile.

Julian reveled in the satisfaction and relief he would have Patience completely to himself in the morning. It would be their first ride since the day he’d suffered his migraine. Ever since Patience had agreed to their outing he’d been looking forward to having her alone without the prospect of someone interrupting them. Suddenly, he realized his wife had gone unusually still.

“I didn’t realize we were having guests next week,” Patience said softly.

“We do no’ have to invite anyone,” Muireall said hastily, and although she did an excellent job hiding her disappointment, Julian still heard the echoes of it in his sister’s voice.

“Of course not, dearest,” Patience said quickly. “I was simply surprised.”

“You do no’ mind,” Muireall asked hesitantly.

“Not at all.” Charged emotions vibrated off of her that he could feel as easily as if she were touching him. Her silk gown rustled softly as he saw her shadow lean toward Muireall. “We must make your birthday a wonderful one.”

His wife was far more skillful than his sister in hiding her misgivings beneath a well-modulated tone of voice. But Julian could feel the raw tension humming through the air between them. She’d had a shock, and she would need time to adjust to the idea of visitors. He frowned.

It was the first time since the accident that he didn’t find himself objecting to the prospect of guests at Crianlarich. The thought surprised him. Patience had given enough of his self-esteem and independence back that the idea of visitors to Crianlarich no longer troubled him. He smiled.

“I think you’ve procrastinated enough for one evening, Muireall MacTavish. Bed, young lady.” Laughter filled the air as Muireall’s chair scraped against the stone floor in a loud screech. A second later, his sister was standing at his side and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Good night, Julian,” she said.

Muireall’s hand squeezed his shoulder, before she moved around him to say good night to Patience. He turned his head and saw the shadows of the two women merge. A few seconds later, Muireall left the room. The silence that remained was dense with unspoken emotion. Patience’s apprehension was a palpable sensation throbbing off of her.

Julian pushed his chair back from the table and turned his head to where Patience was sitting. He frowned in puzzlement as he saw the sharp outline of Patience’s soft curves against the fuzzy, pale gray background that was his vision. The clarity of her shadow seemed crisper than usual. He dismissed the thought as he knew Mrs. Drummond had taken to increasing the lighting in the room to help him see the objects around him better in the evening. Julian grimaced as he tried to think of a way to broach the subject of Muireall’s party. Almost as if she could read his thoughts, a small sound escaped her.

“I don’t know if Muireall has mentioned it, but I’ve been visiting the nursery every day since you explained who Aiden was.”

Stunned, Julian’s jaw sagged at her comment leaving him unable to speak. The sound of her laughter made him recover from his amazement.

“What amuses you, woman,” he said with a grunt of annoyance, knowing full well she was laughing at his reaction.

“I never thought I’d see the day when my husband would find himself without words.” The fact she’d referred to him as her husband sent hope barreling through him.

“I am no’ speechless, Mistress Crianlarich.”

“No?” The word vibrated with amused disbelief.

“No,” he said emphatically as he glared in the direction of her voice. “But I will no’ deny being surprised at your interest in the child.”

“He’s not responsible for the circumstances of his birth.”

Something poignant threaded its way through Patience’s soft reply, and he winced. When Caitriona had left Aiden in his care, he’d hoped Patience would want to raise the boy as her own. But then things had gone from bad to worse where their marriage was concerned. That Patience was at Crianlarich at all was a small miracle in and of itself.

“Did you know Aiden has a mark on his leg, just like you?”

“No,” he said with an indifferent shrug. “It does no’ surprise me though. My father once told me that a great many of the MacTavish men in our family bear the mark including himself.”

“I see.” There was a note of puzzlement in her voice that made him frown.

“What do you see, Patience?” he asked coldly. Julian’s muscles tightened as he remembered how Patience had accused him of taking Una as his mistress.

“I was just thinking…” She sniffed with annoyed disgust. “Never mind, it’s a preposterous idea.”

“Are you looking for confirmation that I did no’ lie to you?” Julian did not bother to hide his bitter indignation.

“No,” she exclaimed in dismay. Patience leaned forward to touch his arm in a display of reassurance. “I was simply thinking that your father…”

“That my father what? Took Una to his bed? Bloody hell,” he muttered as he realized it was quite possible the old Crianlarich might have ruined not just Caitriona, but her sister as well.

“If it’s true, I doubt your father was completely at fault where either woman was concerned.”

“Do no’ make excuses for him,” Julian growled.

“I’m not, but we both know your father led Una to believe she would live here one day,” she said with a sigh. “Una just thought it would be as your wife.”

“Aye,” he said quietly. “But I did no’ want her, I chose an Englishwoman with all the fire and stubbornness of a true Stewart.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a dry note of amusement.

“It was meant as one,” he chuckled. “I’ve often thought you more a Stewart than a Rockwood.”

“Why do I think that’s more a commentary on my worst traits than on my family bloodline?”

“I think I shall retire for the evening before I find myself in hot water.” With a laugh, he rose to his feet. Following his lead, Patience rose from the chair as well.

“Would you like me to walk with you?” she asked quietly. As she had since she’d first arrived at Crianlarich, Patience gave him the option to ask for help. She never forced it on him.

“I would no’ object if you would lend me your arm,” he said with a smile.

In silence, she slipped her arm through his, and together they left the library. As they climbed the stairs, Julian enjoyed the quiet contentment that filled him just from being close to her. In the past three weeks, she’d captured even more of his soul than ever before. When they reached the top of the stairs and turned toward their bedrooms, Patience’s hand rubbed gently over his sleeve in a manner he could only describe as tender.

“I was thinking we might take Aiden out into the garden with us when we go on our afternoon walks.”

Her quiet suggestion stunned him almost as much as her earlier declaration that she’d been visiting the child for weeks. Abruptly coming to a halt, Julian turned his head toward her. Not for the first time, he longed to see her expression. What the devil had made her suggest such a thing?

“Take him with us?”

“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “He’s a happy little fellow, and I think he would enjoy the time outdoors.”

The lighthearted note of her reply made his lips twist in a slight smile. Her laughter would be one of the things he’d miss the most if she were to leave Crianlarich. Julian’s heart sank. If she left, life would become the same bleak hell it had been before she’d arrived. But what would it do to Aiden? Where would the lad be when she left? He cleared his throat then resumed the path toward his room with Patience’s arm still linked in his.

“Do you think it’s wise to continue visiting the child? The lad could become quite attached to you. If you left—”

“And if I chose to stay at Crianlarich? Do you think that would be a wise choice for the two of us?” she asked quietly. His heart slammed into his chest at her question.

“Are ye asking tae stay, Patience?” He heard the way his brogue thickened as his mouth went dry.

“I…I would like for us to consider the possibility of a reconciliation.”

Unable to reply to her proposition, he paced himself as he silently counted the feet to where his bedroom door was. She’d asked to stay. She’d offered them the chance to move out of the past and into the present. He suppressed the shout of happiness threatening to roll out of his throat.

She’d not said anything about the feelings they might have for each other. If she were asking to remain merely out of a belief it was her duty to do so, he wanted no part of that. Before he would agree to her staying, she would need to face her demons. His mind returned to the memory of her reaction to the prospect of guests next week for Muireall’s party.

“Are you asking to stay because you want to, Patience, or are you staying because you want to hide?”

“Hide? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice had gone from the warmth of a summer sun to the frigid chill of a gray winter’s day in the space of seconds. Julian frowned as they stopped in front of his bedroom.

“Then you should think about my question,” he said gently as he crossed the threshold. His back to her, he began to close his bedroom door. “Good night, Patience. I will tell Muireall tomorrow that we will have a quiet family celebration instead of a party next week.”

Julian heard her draw in a quick breath as he shut the door. The moment the latch clicked into place he walked toward his bed, counting each step in his head. He’d barely reached the number three when the door was flung open behind him. As he’d expected, it hadn’t taken Patience long to confront him. He’d known she would not take kindly to his speaking with Muireall about the party. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her as she brushed past him to stand in his way.

“Why are you going to ask Muireall to cancel her party, Julian MacTavish?” The fiery note in her voice made him wish his father could hear her now. There was no doubt as to her Stewart blood at the moment. “Is it because of me?”

“I do no’ recall saying I would speak on your behalf, Patience,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare pretend you have any other reason for doing so.”

“As you wish.” He shrugged. “I shall no’ lie that you are my reason for speaking with Muireall.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “You’re not to say one word to your sister about her party.”

“So you’re not alarmed by the prospect of guests here in the castle.”

“Why on earth would I be?” Patience’s exclamation was filled with more than a touch of panic that confirmed his belief she was lying.

“Because every part of you vibrated with fear the minute Muireall mentioned the party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The sharp note in her voice emphasized her valiant efforts to deny his allegations.

“Then I’ll send for Mrs. Campbell in the morning,” he said determined to force her into facing her fear and not letting it rule her. If she was to stay, it would only be if she loved him and could face the past and its effects on her. In the back of his head, he ignored a voice scoffing at his own hypocrisy.

“Mrs. Campbell?” she asked warily.

“Aye, the village seamstress. You and Muireall will need new gowns. Although, I’m sure it will cost me a pretty sixpence as it’s on such a short notice.”

“I do not need a new gown.”

“Since when have you ever passed up the opportunity to buy a new dress? I have paid plenty of seamstress bills where you are concerned,” he said tightly.

“That was different.”

Julian’s jaw clenched with tension. Patience was right. That was in the past. While the two of them had enjoyed getting to know each other better these past few weeks, there was a great deal they didn’t know about each other. But at the moment he was all too familiar with this particular trait of Patience’s.

The Rockwoods hadn’t earned their reputation simply for being reckless. They were known to be headstrong as well. Patience had inherited more than her fair share of her family’s stubbornness. Just as he had the night of the fire, he would have to challenge her and make her angry enough to face whatever truth she feared. The question was whether her confession would make her come back to him, changed, but unafraid to accept herself for whom she was.

“How is it different now than it was in the past, Patience?” he asked quietly.

“Because I…because I needed clothes then.”

“I do no’ understand, Patience. Are you suggesting you do no’ need a new gown for the party?”

“You are deliberately being difficult, aren’t you?” she snapped, and he could imagine the fiery glare she’d be directing at him. “Most husbands would be grateful for a wife who doesn’t drive them into bankruptcy with dressmaker bills.”

“But you are no’ most wives, are you, Patience?” he said fiercely as he stepped toward her.

The moment he sensed her within arm’s reach, he caught hold of her and pulled her into his embrace. With one arm, he held her tight against him then touched her scarred face. A wounded cry welled up out of her throat. She jerked her head away from his touch before twisting in his arms in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. When she failed, she shuddered against him.

Gently, but with tender determination, Julian explored her face with his fingers. Patience trembled violently against him, and he murmured a calming noise as he touched her. Against the pads of his fingers, soft, smooth skin became scar tissue about an inch in front of her ear. The once soft lobe was now rough and scaly from the inferno she’d survived. His fingers skimmed across the burnt skin of her left cheek and downward to the edge of her jaw line before following the trail of damaged flesh across her neck and the curve of her shoulder.

Something wet hit the back of his hand as he stroked her cheek. The teardrop wrenched at his gut, and his heart ached as though it were being crushed beneath granite. Wanting to take some of her heartache away, he bent his head and brushed his mouth over her scarred cheek. The instant he did so, a cry of dismay broke past her lips. With a strength that surprised him, Patience twisted her way out of his arms. As she escaped his embrace, he experienced a bolt of fear that he’d pushed her too hard.

§ § §

Patience put several feet between them and stared at Julian. The expression on his face made bile rise in her throat. Pity. He pitied her. Desperately she fought not to make a sound as tears streamed down her face. Not since the day she’d made Percy send Julian away from Melton House had she felt this alone and vulnerable. One hand covering her mouth, she tried to stop her trembling, but failed.

What had made him touch her like that? Had he thought it would make her feel better for allowing him to know the extent of her injuries? Her fingers trailed across the place where he’d kissed her cheek. She’d done everything possible to keep him from touching her scorched skin since she’d arrived at Crianlarich.

Even when they’d made love, she’d managed to keep him from touching the hard, rough scars that covered almost half her face. There had been something deliberate in his actions a few moments ago. He’d said she wasn’t like other wives. Had he been referring to her scarred flesh? Although she had never been a vain beauty, Julian had always made her feel beautiful.

But she knew how ugly her scars were and how marred her face was. She knew because of the way people recoiled from her or whispered loudly about what a piteous creature she’d become. To think he was suggesting she was different because of her scars was the same as if he’d pierced her breast with a sharp blade.

“What did you mean I’m not like most wives?” she bit out in a stilted voice.

“You are no’ like other women, because you are my wife and you are a Rockwood,” he said quietly. “You possess your family’s stubbornness and sometimes foolhardy nature, but above all you are the most courageous person I’ve ever known.”

Julian extended his hand toward her, and she leapt backward. Her trembling had eased somewhat, but she had no doubt that if he touched her again she would lose complete control of her emotions. Silence hung thick and heavy between them, and Patience blinked the tears from her eyes. Julian was staring at a point past her head and the expression on his ruggedly handsome features had become harsh and unreadable, while his posture was rigid and inflexible.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wished it had been me trapped in those flames and no’ you, my brave lass.” His throat bobbed, and his mouth drew up taut against the low, roughly uttered statement.

Patience’s heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air between them. An image of Percy preventing Julian from leaping through the flames to reach her fluttered through her head. She closed her eyes for a moment. Julian understood her. He knew her family was a stubborn clan. Their bloodline ensured that trait. It was one of the reasons why he’d taunted her so ruthlessly after Caleb and Devin had fallen into the inferno.

He’d known that if he made her angry enough she would jump across that terrifying gap of flames. Without his taunts she would have died that night. No, not his derisive words, it had been his threat of coming after her that had saved her. She would have done anything to keep him safe. Something she’d failed to do where Caleb or Devin were concerned. Not even her gift had been enough to save them. A draining weariness sank into her pores burrowing deep into her soul.

“I’m tired, Julian,” she said hoarsely as she turned away from him. “I’ll say good night.”

“You can no’ run forever, Patience.”

A wave of panic assaulted her. It rolled over her with an unexpected strength that left her with the sensation of drowning. Why did he feel the need to plague her with the past? All she wanted to do was forget. Deep down a voice mocked her. She would never forget.

“I’m not running from anything,” she bit out. “Unlike you, I simply don’t feel the need to discuss the past.”

“It’s time you did discuss it, Patience,” he said firmly. “You’ve hidden from the world for long enough.”

“I am not hiding from the world,” she exclaimed angrily.

“Your family disagrees with you.” Julian glared at a point above her head. “Do you no’ remember all the times Percy and the others urged you to come out of that damn room of yours at Melton House?”

“I wasn’t well—”

“Tell me why you sent me away, Patience.”

The harsh command made Patience’s heart stop before it resumed beating at the speed of a runaway train. How could she respond to that? Was she supposed to lie or tell him the truth? Tell him that she believed he’d always been faithful to her? Should she tell him everything?

“I want an answer, Patience. Why did you send me away?”

This time his voice echoed with the ferocity of the ancient warriors he descended from. It dislodged a small brick from the wall she’d built between her and the past. Like a piece of a dam, the wall began to crack at its weakest point. Desperately, she fought to push her pain and fear back into the void. As she studied his face, her heart jumped painfully in her chest. She didn’t have the courage to tell him the complete truth. The idea of confessing how terrified she’d been of when he’d seen the extent of her scars appalled her. How could she begin to explain her fear that he would look on her and find her revolting like so many others? He frowned angrily.

“Tell me,” he ordered, and his voice ripped away the wall holding her emotions at bay. Pain, regret, fear, and grief flooded her senses.

“Because I didn’t want your pity,” she cried out as her emotions erupted viciously inside her.

“My pity?” An odd expression darkened Julian’s features.

“Yes, pity,” she cried out with a fury that shadowed the pain spreading its way through her. “I knew before I even looked in the mirror what a hideous creature I was. How could you feel anything but pity for me?”

“Do you deem me of such low character that I would have only pity for my wife, Patience MacTavish? The woman I loved?” His voice was clap of thunder in the room. She gasped at his reaction to her words. In the back of her mind she noted he’d spoken in the past tense, and it intensified the sensation of pain from the brittle glass-like shards slicing into her.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She took a step toward him then stopped as disgust slashed across his face.

“Do no’ mock me, my lady,” he snarled. “What else could you have meant?”

“The woman I was died in that fire. The creature I’ve become is reviled,” she said coldly. “I couldn’t bear having you look at me with…with disgust.”

“If I were concerned solely with my wife’s appearance, I would no’ have spent two weeks at her bedside or waited six months for her to send for me, which she never did.” His voice was icy with contempt as a thunderous cloud of dark anger settled on his face. “You are a hypocrite, my lady. You would no’ allow me the chance to prove myself to you, and yet the minute you learned of my affliction you raced back to Crianlarich. For what—to act as my nurse? Would you have come here if I could see?”

Patience stared at him in horror. Was that why she’d come back to Crianlarich? Was it simply because she knew Julian wouldn’t be able to see the terrible scars on her body. He’d asked a fair question, and in the back of her head she didn’t like her answer.

“Answer me, damn you,” he roared, and the violence in his command made her flinch.

“No,” she whispered.

“No what?” he snarled.

“No, I wouldn’t have come back to Crianlarich,” she said clearly as her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s not true,” she gasped.

“Get out, Patience,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. Although he was pale, his face was an implacable mask of scorn.

“Please, Julian, I didn’t—”

“Now, Patience.” The emphatic command dared her to disobey. Frozen where she stood, Patience realized her attempt to make Julian fall in love with her again was dying a painful death.

“Julian, please. Let me—”

“Get out, Patience,” he roared.

The fury in his voice made her recoil from him. Her heart breaking, she turned and slowly walked away leaving him standing in the center of the room. A few seconds later, she closed the door between their rooms. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Patience undressed slowly in the dark. She’d made a terrible mistake sending him away.

For six months, he’d been at Melton House every day asking to see her. She’d been so wrapped up in her own pain she’d failed to see that only a man in love would have been so relentless in his determination to see her. She wiped tears off her face. She’d misjudged him terribly. The silent admission left her feeling as though someone had cut her heart out of chest and left her bleeding.

She’d been such a fool, and now everything she’d done to win Julian’s heart back since she’d returned to Crianlarich had gone down in flames. All her efforts had fallen by the wayside with her complete lack of understanding as to the kind of man her husband was.

As she slipped beneath the bedcovers, she tried to form a plan for correcting the terrible damage she’d done tonight. For a long time, her chaotic thoughts made her toss and turn restlessly. When her eyes finally drifted closed, it was with the knowledge that she’d failed to come up with a way to make Julian understand how wrong she’d been.

Chapter 14

Coughing violently, Patience scrambled out of bed. The floor beneath her bare feet was hot, and she raced to her bedroom door. Thick smoke filled the corridor, and fear held her frozen where she stood. Her mouth moved as she tried to cry out a warning. When the sound finally rolled out of her it was a piercing cry.

“Fire,” she screamed. “Fire.”

Panic and terror propelled her forward. The screams of her sisters echoed in the hall followed by shouts of alarm from her brothers. Caleb. She raced to the door next to hers, pounding on it before flinging it open.

“Caleb,” she cried out. “The house is on fire. We have to get the children out.”

A loud oath sounded in the room. Satisfied her brother was awake, she ran back out into the hall. Behind her, she heard her brother call her name. Patience ignored his command to stop. Her feet pounded against the increasingly hot floor as she raced toward the nursery. As she reached the rooms where the children slept, she threw the door open, barely noting the noise it made as it hit the wall.

“Nanny Smythe,” she cried out. The nurse emerged from one of the rooms with her night cap askew, a look of amazement on her face. Patience headed toward Braxton’s bedroom. “Get Greer and the others up out of bed. The house is on fire. We need to get the children out now.”

Not waiting for a response, she hurried into the darkened bedroom. A small fire burned in the hearth, and she could barely see for all the smoke around her. Fear caused tears to roll down her cheeks. She had to get the children out. When they were safe she could save Caleb and Devin.

Quickly, she hurried to the crib and gently picked Braxton up in her arms. He uttered a soft cry, and she stroked his forehead soothingly. Nanny Smyth was still standing in the middle of the playroom when Patience emerged from Braxton’s room. She glared at the woman with raw fury.

“Didn’t you hear me,” she cried out. “Look at all the smoke. The house is on fire.”

“But, my lady—”

“Get the children. We have to get them out of the house.”

“Patience.” The gentle sound of Julian calling her name made her turn toward the door. Braxton was beginning to cry loudly, and she kissed his cheek.

“It’s all right my darling. Julian’s here. He’ll help us.”

“Give the boy to the nurse, mo leannan,” Julian said softly and with calm reassurance.

“But she has to save the other children. Aunt Matilda’s room is just down the hall. We have to get her—oh, God, Caleb. She quickly handed Braxton to the nurse and darted past Julian to run out into the corridor. The smoke was even thicker now, and she cried out in terror as a wall of flames shot out of the wall beside her. Staggering to one side she raised her arm in an attempt to keep the fire away from her face. It was a vain attempt as the flames bit deep into her skin.

Agony speared its way through her, and she screamed as a piece of the wall fell down on her. Despite the pain, she stumbled to her feet. She had to reach Caleb and Devin. She couldn’t let them die a second time. Patience took two steps forward then blinked as the smoke swirled away into nothing. The flames shooting out of the walls vanished along with the searing pain on her face and arm.

Dazed, she stared down at her arm, which was covered by the sleeve of her nightgown. A tremor rocked her body, and she wrapped her arms about her waist in an effort to keep it from engulfing her. Eyes closed, she saw Caleb’s handsome face as he’d hugged her tight against him just before his death. She hadn’t saved him. She hadn’t saved Devin. Her gift had failed her the one time it had really mattered. A sob escaped her as tears streamed down her face.

“Oh Patience, do no’ cry,” Muireall’s quiet plea made her stiffen. What was Muireall doing in her room? She opened her eyes and saw the castle’s small staff looking at her with concern.

“Muireall?” Confused she shook her head as she met her sister-in-law’s troubled gaze.

“How did I get into the hall?”

“Patience.” Julian’s quiet voice echoed behind her and she turned around. Concern was furrowed deep in his brow, and his mouth twisted slightly as if he were in pain. How had he gotten to the nursery? Where was his cane? He stretched his hand outward, his sightless gaze directed at a point down the hall. With a quiet sob, she took two quick steps forward into his arms and buried her face into his chest.

“It will be all right, mo leannan.”

The quiet words made her tremble as he held her tightly in his arms. Over the top of her head, she heard Julian issuing orders. A second later, he swept her up into his arms. Cradled against him, she gasped in surprised dismay.

“Julian, put me down, you—”

“Muireall will be my eyes,” he said gruffly. “You’re trembling so badly I do no’ think you can walk back to your room.”

“But—”

“Do no’ argue with me, Patience.” When she didn’t protest any further, he nodded sharply. “Muireall show me the way to my room.”

Patience was too drained to object, and she pressed her face into his shoulder, taking comfort in the powerful strength of his arms.

In less than a minute, they were in Julian’s room where he carried her to the bed. Muireall helped Julian nestle Patience under the covers. When his sister was gone, Julian circled the bed to slide beneath the blankets and pulled her into his embrace. Craving the need for physical comfort, Patience snuggled into his side. Julian didn’t say anything. He simply held her close with his chin resting against the top of her head. Exhausted, she closed her eyes feeling safe in the comfort of his arms.

§ § §

The soft rumble in her ear penetrated Patience’s sleep, and she stirred sleepily. As her eyes fluttered open, she frowned. Where was she? Her gaze swept toward the window where the sunlight brushed the edge of the navy brocade fabric of the curtains. Julian’s room. How had she ended up in her husband’s bed when the last thing he’d said was to order her out of his room? She closed her eyes and tried to think what might have happened last night. Suddenly the memory of smoke filled her head. She winced as she remembered sounding the alarm about a fire that didn’t exist. Julian had come for her and carried her back to his room.

Patience tilted her head slightly upward to study his face for a moment. She’d always loved watching him sleep. There was a gentleness to his face when he slept. It was at times like these that she could see the boy he’d once been. Tentatively she reached out to touch the dark shadow on his face. Rough and bristly against her fingertips, she remembered how he’d once threatened to grow a beard and whiskers when she expressed disgust at the trend among men. She pulled her hand away from him and gently reached for his arm to slide out from his embrace. The second she moved, his arm tightened around her.

“Stay, lass.” His command held a hint of a plea as well. Without a word she acquiesced and remained where she was. The silence between them was soft and comforting. She thought he was dozing until his fingers pressed gently into her arm.

“I am to blame for last night.” It wasn’t an open apology, but she took it for the apology it was meant to be. When she didn’t say anything, he cleared his throat. “What do you remember?”

“Most of it,” she murmured. “I must have frightened Aiden very much.”

“The lad will no remember it.”

“I’m sure the rest of the household thinks I belong in an asylum.”

“No. Muireall used to sleepwalk as a child. They are familiar with the signs. Have you done this before?”

“Once, it was troubling for everyone, but Harlan had already warned the family something like this might happen.

“Harlan?” The word was a low growl in his chest. “Do you no’ mean Dr. Branson?”

“Yes, Dr. Branson. But he’s my friend as much as he is my doctor,” she said with a sense of gratitude for everything Harlan had done for her. “He’s been my healer, counselor, and friend.”

Julian didn’t respond for a moment, and there was a tension about him that made her look up at his face. His expression was harsh and unyielding. Almost as if he was aware of her eyes on him, his lips became a straight line.

“And have you discussed the past with him?” The question was chilly in tone, and she winced. Was it possible he was hurt by the fact she’d discussed the events of that terrible night with Harlan, but not him?

“Yes, it was part of my treatment. Dr. Branson insisted on it,” she replied referring to Harland by his title in an effort to ease Julian’s obvious displeasure when it came to her friendship with the doctor.

“Yet you do no’ wish to discuss the past with me,” Julian said with restrained anger. Patience sat up, and he didn’t try to hold her in place.

“Talking to Har—Dr. Branson is different, he wasn't there that night. When I talk to him, it’s as if I'm simply telling him about a story I've read and how it makes me feel.” She sighed when his hard expression didn’t change. Closing her eyes, she tried to keep the tears from flowing. “It hurts—no—terrifies me to talk about it, Julian. I couldn’t do anything to save them. What do I have my gift for if I can’t help the people I love? It just hurts to much too think about it all.”

Unwilling to continue the conversation, she started to slide out of the bed, but Julian’s hand reached out for her. His firm grasp rested on her shoulder, before sliding down to her scarred hand.

“It does no’ do any good to keep it bottled up inside you, mo leannan.” The endearment rolled off his lips easily, and her heart skipped a beat. His mouth twisted slightly as though he was debating a problem. “And if you can no’ trust me with your pain, I do no’ think you can trust me with your happiness.”

“They’re not the same thing, Julian,” she exclaimed.

“Are they no’?” He shook his head and rolled away from her to sit up on the edge of the bed. “You must trust me completely if we are to reconcile, Patience. I will no’ accept anything less.”

It was a quiet, firm ultimatum that chilled Patience until her skin was covered in goosebumps. There was such a finality to his statement. Deep inside she knew he was right. Loving him meant she had to trust him with her deepest, darkest secret. A revelation she’d only just now come to realize. She’d survived and she was glad. Patience drew in a sharp breath at the thought then quickly scrambled off the bed. The admittance shook her down to the depths of her soul, and guilt assailed her with a gale force.

“Then there’s nothing more to say,” she said softly as she fought back tears. “I’ll return to London as soon as arrangements can be made.”

“As you wish,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “Have the divorce papers sent to me when they are ready for my signature.”

Patience jerked at his words. She didn’t want a divorce. She never had. She’d lost him. She’d failed—not because she didn’t love him, but because she didn’t have the courage to trust him anymore than she could trust herself.

Julian’s back was ramrod straight, and Patience wanted to leap forward across the bed to pressed her body into his back. She longed to embrace him and confess the deepest part of her soul. Most of all she wanted the courage to tell him what was in her heart. Patience did none of those things and turned away and headed toward the connecting door between their rooms.

“Will you no’ at least stay for Muireall’s party?” he asked quietly. The thought of facing people she didn’t know terrified her, and she hesitated in her response.

“She will be disappointed if you are no’ here.”

“Yes, I’ll stay for the party,” she replied softly. Her response apparently surprised him as he jerked slightly, but continued to keep his back to her.

“Thank you.”

It was a soft dismissal that forced her to resume her course. A moment later, she moved through the connecting door and closed it behind her. It was like shutting everything out of her life that was good, leaving only a devastating heartbreak that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

§ § §

The moment Patience closed the door behind her, Julian released a low noise of pain. Christ Jesus, he’d backed himself into a corner, and the end result had driven her away. He’d misjudged the depths of her fear. It went far deeper than his own need not to be the subject of pity. He understood that much of her pain. But there was more to Patience’s suffering than her desire not to be treated with pity.

It was even deeper than her belief that her scars made her a creature to shy away from. He knew better. He’d touched her face, and what Aunt Matilda had said was correct. Patience scars were severe, but not to the extent she believed. Somehow he knew she was hiding a far more crippling wound beneath her scars. One he knew she would have to accept of her own accord. The realization hacked its way through him like a claymore would his flesh.

Bleakly, he went about the business of dressing for another day. One of the last few days he could enjoy to hear the sound of Patience’s laughter or breathe in her sweet scent. It was unlikely she would even give him the opportunity to touch her again. The thought filled him with the state of gloom he’d not experienced since the accident. Julian reached for his cane next to his bed and proceeded to make his way down to breakfast.

Patience’s presence had given him the confidence to move about the castle as freely as when he’d had his sight. She’d insisted he learn to be as self-sufficient as possible. He’d done precisely that, and he enjoyed his renewed sense of freedom. The quiet clink of silverware on china greeted him as he paused in the dining room doorway.

“Julian, I thought you were to ride with Patience this morning.”

“Our plans changed.”

“I do no’ understand,” Muireall said with an air of puzzlement. “Patience refused breakfast as she said she was going for her morning ride.”

“She went alone?” He knew it was a ridiculous question.

“Aye,” Muireall said with a hint of worry. “Should she no’ have done so?”

Julian’s gut knotted with fear. He knew Patience had been distraught when they’d parted company, which could easily make her careless. The Crianlarich estate was rife with treacherous terrain, and as skilled a horsewoman as his wife was, there was always the chance of something going wrong.

“I’m sure she’ll be all right. If she doesn’t return in an hour or so, I’ll send Lorne out to look for her.”

The morose feeling plaguing him deepened as he sat down. Like Mrs. Lester and Patience, his sister knew the precise placement of food on his plate and quickly fixed him something to eat. Almost half an hour later, he’d barely touched his meal. Hands braced against the edge of the table, he shoved himself out of his chair. The hunger he was experiencing had nothing to do with food and everything to do with his wife.

“Send Lorne into the library. I want him to read the Times to me,” Julian bit out tersely as he retrieved his cane from where it rested against the table leg.

“But Patience always reads the Times to you in the morning.”

“I said send for Lorne. Now, Muireall,” he barked.

“All right, but you do no’ have to bite my head off.”

The sulky note in his sister’s voice made him grimace, but before he could apologize she was gone. Angry that he’d taken his foul mood out on his sister, he muttered an oath. With his cane guiding him, Julian made his way to the library. He only had to wait a few minutes before his estate manager arrived. The man didn’t ask why after almost three weeks, Patience wasn’t reading to him.

As Lorne read the paper, Julian tried to focus his attention on the business and political news items. It was proving to be a difficult task when all he could do was compare Lorne’s dry reading of the paper to his wife’s melodious voice. Lorne had almost finished with the task of sharing the news of the day when the sound of Patience laughter mixed with male voices filtered its way from the main hall into the library. Frowning, he reached for his cane and stood up. No sooner had he done so than Patience entered the library followed by two more people.

“Julian, look who’s come to visit,” she exclaimed. Beneath her excitement there was the sound of panic in her voice. “Percy decided to surprise us.”

“Percy, this is an unexpected pleasure.” The tall, dark shape of his brother-in-law loomed against the gray background of his vision. An ally to help convince Patience she had to face her fears. A smile of delight on his face, Julian extended his hand in greeting.

“It’s good to see you too, Julian,” his brother-in-law said pleasantly as the two of them shook hands. “We arrived late yesterday and chose to stay at the Crianlarich Inn before riding over this morning. We met Patience on her way home.”

“We?” Julian’s senses were immediately on high alert as he remembered the odd note in Patience’s voice.

“Yes, Dr. Branson was interested in Patience’s progress. I invited him to come with me to see my wayward sister, who has been negligent in writing to the family.” Percy’s reply made Julian go rigid. The good doctor had come to check on his patient.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. MacTavish. I do hope you’ll forgive—”

“Crianlarich,” he said coldly at the doctor’s cheerful greeting.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am now the Laird of Crianlarich. You may address me as Crianlarich.” An uncomfortable silence followed his harsh words, and the man in front of him cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, Crianlarich, I should have remembered you assumed your title only just recently. My condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you,” he bit out as his antagonism for the other man began to get the best of him. He didn’t like being caught by surprise. Worse, he didn’t want the man anywhere near Patience.

“Julian,” His wife’s voice floated across his senses. It was like a tendril of mist, tangible yet intangible

“I invited Percy and… Dr. Branson to stay with us until Muireall’s party next week.”

The words were like a lash across his back. Not only had she invited the doctor into his home—a home she’d already given up—but she’d invited the man to stay at Crianlarich until her own departure. Pain snagged its way through him. Livid that she had so much power over his happiness, he turned his head in her direction.

“Muireall will be delighted to hear the news. She need no’ fret about Molly Campbell or Una Bensmore being without partners for her party.”

At his remark, he heard Patience’s quiet gasp. Triumph surged through him. At least he would not look like a lovesick sheep herder during the time she and the good doctor were in his home.

“I trust Patience will see to your comfort, gentlemen. Lorne, I believe you mentioned there was estate business and correspondence that needed my attention.”

“Aye, Crianlarich,” Lorne said quietly. Julian was certain he heard a note of concern in his old friend’s voice. He nodded with a satisfaction he didn’t feel.

“Gentlemen, Patience,” he said abruptly. Julian’s voice echoed loudly in the awkward, uncomfortable silence. He didn’t care that he was being rude. Patience and her doctor were fortunate he didn’t bring the wrath of God down on their heads. The shadows in his vision parted like waves in the sea as he used his cane to find his way out of the library.

With every step that widened the gap between him and Patience, Julian had to fight the growing urge to charge back to her side. She was his. She didn’t belong to Branson. She was the Crianlarich’s woman. When he reached the main hall, he paused for a moment. Quiet whispers in the library told him Patience and her brother were arguing vehemently. A quiet, even-toned voice interrupted the siblings, and Julian released a snort of disgust. The doctor was far too deeply involved in the affairs of the Rockwood family. With another growl of dark emotion, he made his way back to Lorne’s office.

For the next several hours, Julian ruthlessly immersed himself in running the Crianlarich estate. He’d allowed things to languish since his father’s death, and it was time he took a deeper interest in the estate’s business prospects and its tenants. When Muireall came to tell him lunch was ready, he ordered her to have lunch sent to the office. His sister protested, but his estate manager quietly supported Julian’s orders. It was late afternoon when Lorne released a sigh of disgust.

“Enough, Julian,” he snapped. “We can no’ accomplish in one afternoon something we’ve not attended to in several months. It will take time to resolve everything. None of this needs to be addressed immediately, which is why I’ve held them back for so long.”

“You should’ve pushed me to do something sooner.”

“Push you,” Lorne snorted with disgusted amusement. “The only person capable of getting your stubborn arse to do something is the Crianlarich’s wife.”

“Guard your words carefully, Lorne,” he said with a vicious snarl.

“Do no’ patronize me, Julian MacTavish. You might be the Crianlarich now, but I can still beat your hide just like I did when we were lads. Only now I can do it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.”

Lorne’s anger took Julian by surprise before the words of his childhood friend settled in his brain. Had the man just suggested Julian’s blindness wouldn’t be the reason for losing a fight? Certainty swept through him. For a moment, he didn’t respond. His friend’s words clarified that it wasn’t his blindness that defined who he was to himself or to others. Even more amazing was the fact that Lorne’s words amused him. Suddenly, he snorted with laughter. Lorne chuckled as well. In seconds, the two men were laughing loudly. As their amusement died away, Julian rubbed his head. Even despite the brevity of the moment, he had the beginnings of a headache.

“You’re right, Lorne, it can no’ be accomplished in one day,” he said quietly. “Attend to the matters we discussed today, then we’ll tackle more at the end of the week.”

“As you wish, Crianlarich,” his estate manager said respectfully.

Julian nodded as he rose to his feet and headed toward the office door. His hand on the doorknob, he paused.

“Thank you, Lorne. You helped me understand what Patience has been telling me all along. I am not a blind man, just a man who sees differently.”

“You’re welcome,” Lorne said quietly before he cleared his throat. “She loves you, Julian. You can no’ see her face as she looks at you, but I can. The Crianlarich’s woman loves only one man, and that’s you.”

“Aye,” he said wearily as he rubbed his jaw. “But she does no’ love me enough, Lorne.”

With those last words, Julian left his friend’s office and headed toward his room. Lorne’s observation reflected a conclusion he’d come to this morning. Patience would not have suggested a reconciliation if she didn’t care for him. He simply asked more of her than she was willing to give. The throbbing in his head was still at a low threshold, but he knew lying down would help avoid another migraine. The last thing he wanted was being at the mercy of Patience’s tender care. It would be his personal version of hell. The thought made him grunt. He was already in hell, and the pain of it would only intensify when Patience left.

Worse, when she left, it would be on the arm of another man. His head throbbed at the thought, and he grimaced. He’d not done much to help the situation by mentioning Una. Lying about the woman’s attendance at Muireall’s party had been beneath him, but it had been impossible not to strike out in the face of Branson’s presence. The thought of appearing weak to the enemy was not something he could stomach.

Julian entered his room, closed the door behind him, and rested his cane at the foot of the bed. He turned toward the window. The tall, narrow-shaped panes of glass revealed a bright, ye dingy gray, patch of color framed by dark drapes. Wishing he could see the scenery from the window, he took several steps forward.

In all the time he’d lived in the castle, he’d never seen the view from the Crianlarich’s room. As a child, his father’s room had been off limits. The old Crianlarich had been possessive of his status and belongings. The quiet sound of the door to Patience’s room opening made him stiffen. God help him, what did she want with him now? He didn’t move as he waited for her to speak.

“Una Bensmore and her father are downstairs,” she said in a strained voice. “They’re demanding to see Aiden.”

Patience’s announcement made him go rigid. Bloody hell. Had Patience been forced to speak with the woman? He turned to face her.

“What did she say to you?” he growled softly ready to make Una’s head roll at the slightest provocation.

“I didn’t speak to her…I was at the top of the stairs when they arrived a few moments ago. Mr. Bensmore demanded that Mrs. Drummond bring Aiden downstairs.” Although her voice was composed, he could hear the trepidation and the residual pain the woman had caused them both.

Anger tightened his muscles. Una had obviously told her father that Aiden was Caitriona’s child. But why had she waited so long to do so? As always, Una’s timing was impeccable. The woman always managed to pick the worst possible moment to cause trouble. Julian nodded his head, ignoring the pain the gesture caused him.

“I’ll deal with it.”

“You won’t let them take Aiden away…will you?” The tentative question made him slowly turn toward her.

“Does it matter? You will no’ be here to care.” The moment he said the harsh, unfeeling words, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back.

“He’s far too sweet for you to give him to that woman, Julian,” she snapped. “Una Bensmore will destroy that child either with indulgence or contempt.”

Julian didn’t answer her. Instead he retrieved his cane and headed for the door. Fingers wrapped around the door knob, he opened the door and paused.

“You do no’ have a say in the matter anymore, Patience. You gave up that right the minute you chose to go back to London and your Dr. Branson.” Not waiting for her reply, he continued out into the hallway to make his way downstairs for the battle that would ensue. It wasn’t something he welcomed at the moment. The sooner he could retreat to his bed, the better. But he was damned if he’d let Bensmore come into his home and make demands. Secondly, he refused to let the man take his brother from Crianlarich Castle.

Chapter 15

Patience flinched at the sound of angry voices coming out of the drawing room as she slowly crossed the hall floor. Mr. Bensmore roared out a fiery denouncement at a quiet response from Julian. She desperately wanted to enter the salon to support him, but her feet dragged at the prospect. Una Bensmore was in that room and she had as much desire to face the woman as she did a snake. Julian said something she couldn’t hear, and it seemed to increase Bensmore’s ire. Patience came to a stop just outside the drawing room to listen to the argument.

“Una has told me everything, Crianlarich,” Caitriona’s father said with a mix of anger and anguish.

“Exactly what is it Una has told you?”

“She says Caitriona’s son did not die, and that you refused to let her bring the child home where he belongs.”

“And when did she share this news with you?”

“Last night,” Bensmore snarled. “The lass came sobbing to me, saying she could no’ bear tae keep the truth from me any longer.”

“Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe,” Julian said with cool skepticism. “Una has rarely done anything that did no’ serve her own interests first.”

“Tis no’ true,” Una exclaimed angrily. Julian uttered a noise of contempt.

“I speak the truth. You care about your own needs and comforts ahead of anyone else,” Julian replied in a harsh voice that dared her to challenge him a second time. “Which makes me wonder why you chose this moment in time to tell your father about the boy.”

“I thought I could honor Caitriona’s wishes, but the thought of her wee bairn growing up here without a mother’s love was breaking my heart.”

Una’s defiant words made Patience bite down on her lip. The woman was right, when she left Crianlarich, the only woman to serve as Aiden’s surrogate mother would be Muireall. Julian’s sister was young and didn’t deserve such a burden, no matter how willing the girl might be to care for her young brother. Guilt swept through Patience. She had only to bare her heart to Julian, and she wouldn’t have to leave Crianlarich. It was a terrifying thought when she hardly had the courage to admit the truth to herself.

“Your sudden change of heart for the child’s welfare is touching,” Julian sneered. “You had no desire to take the boy almost a year ago. So again, I express my curiosity as to why you have developed this sudden need to act as the child’s guardian?”

“Because my father deserves to know his grandson.” An indecipherable emotion ran through the haughty note in Una’s voice, and Patience frowned. The woman was hiding something. She was certain of it. Without warning, an image of Una sobbing uncontrollably as the woman sat in a moving carriage filled Patience’s head.

Just as abruptly, the vision ended leaving Patience bewildered. What would make the woman cry with such heartbreaking intensity? Una Bensmore was not the type of woman who would surrender to weakness of any kind. As she contemplated the vision, Patience suddenly jerked in amazement.

She still possessed the an dara sealladh. The fire hadn’t taken everything from her. She closed her eyes as she welcomed the relief the knowledge gave her. Although her gift of sight had failed to help her save Caleb and Devin, for better or worse, it was a part of her. Without it she wouldn’t be Patience Rockwood MacTavish. She didn’t ponder the revelation very long as her attention was drawn back to the small drama being played out in the salon.

“And yet Caitriona left the boy in my care, no’ yours.”

“She was dying,” Una said belligerently. “She did no’ know what she was doing.”

“Your sister knew precisely what she was doing,” Julian bit out with an icy fury that would have made most people think twice before responding.

“I can no’ believe my Caitriona would no’ let her sister bring the boy home to me.” Bensmore’s fierce objection indicated the man intended to dig his heels in where Aiden was concerned.

“Caitriona wished to protect you from her shame, and I gave my word to ensure her request was honored. If I had it to do over, I would no’ have agreed to such an oath.” The regret in Julian’s words was met with a brief silence before Bensmore heaved a sigh.

“I do no’ doubt my Caitriona would no’ want to burden me so,” Bensmore said quietly. “She was a thoughtful child, but I want to take my grandson home with me.”

“That I can no’ agree to.” Julian’s soft reply was firm and emphatic.

“Ye will no’ keep me from the boy, Crianlarich.”

“I have no’ said I would prevent you from seeing the child,” Julian replied calmly, but with irritation. “All I have said is that the boy will remain at Crianlarich under my care as Caitriona requested.”

“Caitriona might have been misguided in her thinking as to whom should care for the child. But I do no’ think she would want ye to keep the boy if I am willing to take him.” Bensmore persisted in his attempt to convince Julian to give Aiden into his care.

“Caitriona is not here to speak for herself, so I must abide by her request.”

“Was it her wish that ye lie and claim the boy was yours?” The anger in Bensmore’s voice was softened by the dull edge of grief. “The whole countryside believes the boy is yours and your woman’s.”

“That was my father’s doing. When I discovered his lie, the damage had already been done. Despite my father’s deception, I felt it in the best interest of the child to leave things as they were.”

“The best interest of the child?” Una’s laugh was sharp with derision. “Do ye no’ mean ye stole my sister’s wee bairn to raise as yer own because yer wife can no’ give ye an heir.”

“Your daughter forgets she is talking to the Laird of Crianlarich, Bensmore.” The words were as cold as they were menacing, and Patience took a small step forward until she was standing just inside the salon. Bensmore and Una stood with their backs to her as they faced Julian who was staring blindly at a point over their head. Bensmore gestured angrily at his daughter in a silent command for the woman to apologize. After a long moment, Una uttered a churlish apology. The man glared at his youngest child before turning back to Julian.

“My apologies, Crianlarich,” the older man said in a placating manner. “I have indulged her too much over the years.”

“Aye, which is another reason why I will no’ give the boy to you. You may visit him here, but he will remain in my care. I’ll not have you, or your daughter, ruin the child.”

“I’ll no’ do anything to harm my nephew,” Una bit out her answer in a restrained manner obviously angered by Julian’s comment. From where Patience stood, she saw Bensmore nod in agreement despite the fact Julian couldn’t see him.

“The lass speaks the truth. She will love the boy as if he’s her own. Una says ye and your wife are estranged. It can no’ be good for the boy living here without a woman’s touch.”

“My personal affairs are none of your business, Bensmore. It has no bearing on the matter at hand. Aiden will remain at Crianlarich Castle.”

“But ye do no’ deny the situation with your wife. ‘Tis said in the village that ye will divorce the Mistress of Crianlarich. If ye do so, you’ll need a new wife.” There was a sly note to the man’s voice that made Patience flinch.

“I suppose you have someone in mind for the role, if that were ever to happen?” Julian’s mouth thinned with anger as Patience’s drew in a quick breath. Was it possible he’d been bluffing about agreeing to a divorce? Did he still intend to refuse granting her a divorce? The thought made her heart swell with hope.

“Your father promised us that Una would be Mistress of Crianlarich.”

Bensmore’s words made Patience stiffen. Why would Fergus MacTavish make such a promise? Her mind raced as she tried to understand what her father-in-law had been thinking at the time he’d made such a promise. Images flooded her head at the thought, and Patience caught her breath in surprise. Her gaze quickly scanned the other woman’s figure.

Una still possessed the lithe figure she’d had the day the woman had driven a wedge between Julian and Patience, but the woman’s curves were softer—more pronounced now. Patience pressed her hand against the base of her throat as she remembered her vision of Una holding a baby. Una was carrying Fergus MacTavish’s child. The woman had shared the old Crianlarich’s bed, just like her sister.

“My father filled Una’s head with visions of being the grand lady of the manor. Even if I did no’ love my wife, I would have no interest in granting Una such a boon,” Julian said with an icy anger Patience knew well.

At Julian’s declaration, Patience drew in a sharp breath of amazement. Had he really just said he loved her? Disbelief held her immobile for a moment as she struggled to believe she wasn’t dreaming. Slowly, a warm layer of joy wrapped around her as she accepted the fact that she’d heard her husband correctly.

Her heart stopped beating for a long pause before it resumed beating at a frantic pace. Joy swept through her as she accepted what she’d heard as truth. He loved her. But why hadn’t he told her over the past few weeks? The answer was as blinding as it was simple. He was uncertain of her. She’d rejected him—called him a liar. His pride would never let him reveal his heart to her a second time unless he was sure of her.

“Ye should not be caring for the boy. The wee bairn is our blood, not yours,” Una said fiercely.

“You had no desire to take the boy almost a year ago. So I ask you again, why this sudden need to act as his guardian?” Julian said harshly.

“I made a mistake. I thought when ye divorced...” Una’s voice trailed off as if she realized she’d said more than she intended.

“And you thought I would marry again? Marry you?” Julian’s contempt was almost a tangible force, and Una jerked as if he’d hit her. The woman quickly straightened her back and held her head high.

“Ye need an heir, and I can bear ye fine sons,” Una declared with confidence. “I could be of use to you, Julian. I would make ye a good wife.”

“I have no need of your help or anything else. I already have a wife,” Julian said with disgust.

“But she does no’ plan to stay at Crianlarich, does she?” Una sneered. “Her brother has come to fetch the Mistress of Crianlarich and take her back to England. What will ye do when she leaves ye? Ye will need an heir. If ye divorce the Englishwoman, I will give ye the son ye need.”

While Percy hadn’t come to take her home, Patience understood how the woman could have easily jumped to the conclusion. Even though the Crianlarich staff was a small one. It was naïve to think servants didn’t gossip. Una would have known there was still discord between Patience and Julian. Her gaze settled on Julian’s face, which was no more readable than a marble statue.

Patience noted his color had become a shade lighter at Una’s words. The strain the conversation was having on him was evident by the tight, pinched corners of his mouth and the thinness of his lips. Patience stiffened with dismay. He wasn’t just angry, he was in pain.

When she’d entered his bedroom a short time ago, she’d been too distraught at Una’s presence in the house to even grasp the fact that Julian had looked ill. Now she knew better. He had another headache, and the stress of his argument with Bensmore and his daughter was taking its toll.

“Well, Crianlarich? Do ye deny that ye will soon have need of a wife to give ye an heir?”

Una’s calculating tone ignited a fire of indignation inside Patience. The strength of it reminded her that she was a Rockwood worthy of the maternal Scottish blood that flowed in her veins. Armed with a confidence she’d not experienced in a very long time, Patience moved deeper into the room.

“I don’t know that I’ll give my husband an heir, but I do know we shall raise Aiden together,” Patience said firmly as both Bensmore and his daughter jerked in surprise and whirled to face her. “And he will become every bit the wonderful man my husband is.”

Patience kept her eyes focused on Julian as she walked toward him. She didn’t bother to glance at Una and her father as she walked past them to halt at her husband’s side. All that mattered was Julian and her need to tell him how much she loved him. Julian’s expression was still unreadable, but his posture had become less rigid. The moment she reached him, Patience slipped her hand into his.

Immediately, he squeezed her fingers hard. Despite the slight discomfort, she reveled in the possessive nature of the silent gesture. Slowly, she turned to face Una and her father. Although she’d not seen their initial reaction to her scars, she was certain their expressions had not changed. The older Scotsman averted his gaze from hers, but Una’s lack of pity surprised Patience. The other woman simply stared at her for a long moment before she smiled with malice.

“Do you find it a blessing that Julian can no’ see the hideous, revolting creature he married?”

“My scars are not who I am. But they do reflect my willingness to protect those I love,” she replied before Julian could rush to her defense.

The moment she spoke, Julian went rigid then squeezed her hand so tightly she uttered a small gasp of pain. The pressure on her hand instantly eased, but her husband didn’t release his hold on her.

“Do no’ ever insult my wife again, Una Bensmore.” Julian’s voice resounded with a quiet fury, and while he made no threat, his intent was clear. Patience experienced a flash of satisfaction as Una blanched.

“I think it’s time you both left,” Patience said as she glanced up at Julian and saw the pain that had made his mouth so thin it was colorless. “Arrangements can be made at a later time for you to visit with Aiden.”

“We will see him now,” Una said belligerently. “He is our kin, and we will no’ wait for the likes of ye to decide when we can see him.”

“As the Mistress of Crianlarich, this is my home, and you are a guest here.” Patience narrowed her gaze at the woman. “I thank you to remember that when you speak to me.”

Una’s mouth fell open in astonishment at Patience’s reply. Satisfied she’d silenced the woman for the moment, Patience turned her head toward Bensmore who was eyeing her with calculation.

“Mr. Bensmore, my husband is an honorable man. He gave Caitriona his oath to care for Aiden. With my help, Julian will see to it that the child grows up happy and well cared for. We welcome you to visit whenever you like.”

“I can no’ accept that. My grandson belongs with his own kin,” Bensmore said in a voice that indicated he would not give way in his fight to take Aiden home with him.

Patience heard Julian mutter a barely audible oath at the other man’s stubbornness. Certain the Scotsman would not yield his position easily, Patience realized the only way to convince the man to leave Aidan at Crianlarich was to tell him the truth.

“Aiden is with his own kin, Mr. Bensmore,” she said quietly as she met the older man’s gaze.

“I do no’ understand,” Bensmore said with a look of puzzled confusion. Beside her, Julian touched her arm with his hand.

“Patience—”

“If we are to settle the matter of Aiden’s care, Mr. Bensmore must know the whole truth,” she said firmly as she defied Julian’s warning. Patience turned her head back to the Scotsman. “Julian is a good and honorable man, sir. He was put in a terrible position when he gave his word to your daughter. But I made no such promise.”

“I do no’ understand,” Bensmore said with agitated anger. “Speak your mind, woman.”

“I have no gentle way to say this, Mr. Bensmore, other than to be blunt. Aiden is Julian’s brother.”

“Do no’ insult my intelligence, woman. That’s no’ possible,” Bensmore bellowed in angry disbelief. “That would mean the child was Fergus’ son.”

“I’m sorry, but you may ask your daughter. Aiden bears the mark of a MacTavish that all the men in the family have.” As Patience looked at Una, the color drained from the Scotswoman’s face. The woman glanced at her father in obvious fear, but the man was muttering to himself as he shook his head in a dazed fashion.

“Fergus would no’ betray me like that—no’ with my own daughter. He was my friend.”

Patience didn’t say anything in response to his mutterings, and Bensmore glared at her in outrage as if he could make her confess she’d been lying. When she didn’t flinch beneath his furious glare, the man’s expression dissolved into one of horrified resignation. Bensmore sagged slightly where he stood as disappointment, shame, and humiliation swept across his face.

The man had done nothing to deserve his friend’s betrayal, and Patience’s stomach lurched as she wondered how the man would react if he learned his youngest daughter had shared the Crianlarich’s bed as well. And Patience was certain he would ask that question of his youngest daughter soon enough.

Una wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. But whether Mr. Bensmore discovered Fergus MacTavish’s second betrayal was still in question. The Scotswoman touched her father’s arm in a genuine gesture of comfort. A moment later, Una fixed her green-eyed gaze on Patience. The hate in the other woman’s eyes sent a shiver through Patience.

“Ye have no heart,” Una exclaimed as she glared at Patience. “Ye did no’ have to tell him who the bairn’s father was.”

“You left me with no choice. Julian couldn’t defend himself against your accusations without breaking his oath to your sister,” Patience said quietly. “And I refuse to stand by and let you or your father accuse or make demands of my husband when he has as much right, if not more, to raise his brother and heir to Crianlarich.”

“Can the Crianlarich no’ speak for himself?” Bensmore snapped. “Or has his blindness reduced him to hiding behind the skirts of a woman?”

The older man’s insult made Julian stiffen beside her. Patience jerked her head to look up at him. The fury slashing its way across her husband’s face made her heart skip a beat of fear for the older man. Her hand clutched at Julian’s forearm, but he was either oblivious to the touch or cared nothing for the sign of caution.

“I’ve tolerated ye and yer daughter’s slurs as a sign of yer grief for Caitriona,” Julian snarled as anger thickened his brogue until it was harsh with a brutal fury. The rage rolling off of him in waves was evidence of the fiery line of Scotsmen he was descended from. “But ye will show me the respect I deserve or I’ll thrash ye as easily as I could if I were no’ blind, Bensmore.”

“Ye can no’ blame me for questioning yer reasons to tell everyone but me about my Caitriona and Fergus,” the Scotsman snapped bitterly.

“I did no’ tell everyone. Only five people know the truth, and four of them are in this room.” Julian’s words were a thunderous boom of outrage in the room. “Muireall is the only other person who knows, and I did no’ tell her. Muireall saw Caitriona sneaking out of our father’s room early one morning. I jeopardized my own marriage keeping yer daughter’s secret from Patience for almost a year. So do no’ suggest I shared Caitriona’s secret without due consideration or care.”

Defeat cast a shadow on the older man’s weathered face, and Patience’s heart went out to him. The man had not only lost a daughter, he’d been humiliated by a man he’d considered a friend. Worse, it was quite possible there was more humiliation and shame to come, and Patience could only hope she wasn’t witness to it. In the space of a few moments, Bensmore had aged at least ten years or more since Patience had divulged the painful details of Caitriona’s fall from grace.

Regret swept over her that she’d been forced to be a part of humiliating the man. Her gaze flitted to Una. To her surprise the woman was looking at Julian. There was an air of desperation and fear radiating off the other woman. As if realizing she was being watched, Una jerked her head toward Patience. There was more than just hate in the woman’s gaze. There was an anguish reflected in Una’s gaze that she recognized.

Una Bensmore was in love with Julian. The knowledge sent pity streaking through Patience. It explained why the woman had tried to come between her and Julian. Yet even despite her love for Julian, Una had craved being the mistress of Crianlarich more. The old Crianlarich had made promises he’d not been able to keep. Last night she’d not been completely sure about Una and Fergus MacTavish, but now she was. No doubt Una had thought being in Fergus’ bed would secure her the status she wanted.

But her desire for the title of Mistress of Crianlarich had come at a price. Like Caitriona before her, she was carrying Fergus’ child. With Julian’s father dead, Una’s reputation hinged on securing a husband quickly. A husband she thought she might find in Julian if he were to divorce Patience. The fact Una loved Julian could only make her situation all the more painful. As she steadily met the other woman’s gaze, Una grew pale again. Fear swept across the woman’s face, before her expression became as stony a look as Julian’s. She linked her arm through her father’s and gently pulled him toward the door.

“Let us go home, father. Ye need to rest,” Una said softly. “We can come back to see the child in a few days.”

“Aye,” Bensmore rasped and nodded his head.

Julian’s hand gently tightened around Patience’s as the father and daughter walked out of the room. A moment later, the front door made a loud thud as the Bensmores left the castle. Beside her, Julian made a sound of relief as he pulled Patience into his arms. His head dipped downward until his mouth brushed across her forehead.

“Ye have poor timing when it comes tae telling your husband ye still love him, Mrs. MacTavish.” Julian’s words were gruff, and there was a deeper, much more raw emotion threading through his words.

“I’ve been trying to tell you ever since I came home,” she said quietly as she clung to him. “I don’t know that I would have had the courage to do so if I’d not heard you tell Bensmore you loved me.”

“I’ve never stopped loving you mo ghràdh.” Julian kissed her gently then proceeded to press kiss after tender kiss to her face as he repeated his declaration over and over again. As he lifted his head, Patience sighed happily.

“I think I’ll have to insist you make that a daily ritual, Crianlarich, and at least three times a day.”

“Just three?” he teased in a light-hearted manner.

Despite her new-found happiness, the memory of Bensmore’s defeated expression filled Patience’s head. She rested her head against Julian’s shoulder, while her hand pressed against his heart.

“I wish it hadn’t been necessary to tell him the truth,” she whispered. “It will be hard enough for him when he learns Una’s with child.”

“With child,” he exclaimed in a low, hoarse voice. After a long pause, he drew in a harsh breath. “Is it my father’s?”

“Yes,” she said as she looked up at him. Anger made his features stern and implacable. “But she’s not very far along. I don’t think your father knew if even Una did. I’m sure he would have married her. It would have given her almost everything she wanted.”

“Almost?” he rasped with slight jerk.

“She’s in love with you,” Patience said as she experienced pity for the woman who’d craved things she would never have. “When I told Bensmore that all the men in your family have the same birthmark, Una was terrified. But it was when she looked at me that I knew you were the man she’d really wanted.”

“I never wanted her, mo leannan,” Julian reassured her with an intensity that made her heart soar.

“I know that now, my love. I should have believed you…trusted you,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. Would things have been different after the fire? The answer to that question was clear. Julian would never have allowed her to hide from him.

“Tis in the past, Patience,” he bit out in a strained voice, and she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.

“You’re in pain,” she gasped with self-reproach. “Forgive me, my darling. I knew you were unwell. I should have made you go upstairs the moment the Bensmores left.”

“Tis nothing more than a little headache. I will manage as long as I do no’ let you leave my side.”

Despite the dismissive note in his voice, she could still hear the note of misery in his voice. Concern spiraled through her, and she reached up to lightly stroke his temples. Her touch caused him to wince, and Patience made a soft sound of exasperation.

“Uncomfortable, my foot. You’re going upstairs to lie down,” she said firmly. As he opened his mouth to speak, Patience pressed her index finger against his lips. “No arguments.”

“I was no’ going to argue,” he muttered in a disgruntled manner.

“Why do I have trouble believing that,” she said with amusement.

“Do no’ sass me, woman,” he growled. A second later he came to an abrupt halt with a deep groan of pain then sagged against Patience.

“Julian,” she exclaimed in fear.

“’Tis all right, mo ghràdh,” he said hoarsely. “My head is just pounding like a blacksmith hammer on an anvil.”

“Perhaps you should sit down while I find Percy or Harlan to help you upstairs.”

“No,” he snarled then grimaced as he met her concerned gaze. “I can manage with your help, mo leannan.”

“All right.” Patience sighed at his hardheaded refusal to accept help. “And you have the audacity to call me stubborn.”

His only reply was a soft grunt as Patience helped guide him out into the main hall. They were halfway to the staircase, when Patience heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs. She looked up towards the sound to see Harlan and Percy headed toward them.

“Damnation, Julian,” her brother exclaimed. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It’s a migraine,” Patience said softly. She glanced up at Julian to see him flinch then pursed her lips in a silent gesture for her brother to lower his voice. Regret immediately darkened Percy’s features.

“Let me help you up the stairs, Julian,” Her brother said quietly as he stepped toward his brother-in-law. “Patience is strong, but if you collapse you’re apt to send the two of you tumbling down the steps.”

Patience felt Julian stiffen before he released a small noise of agreement. Percy wrapped his arm around Julian’s waist. When she didn’t retreat from Julian side, her brother arched his eyebrows at her.

“You better let Dr. Branson take your place, Patience. He’s stronger than you.” Percy’s statement caused Julian to release a low growl of protest. Patience touched his hand in a silent sign of reassurance.

“He’s right, Julian. Besides, Harlan can examine you once we get you into bed.”

“I do no’ need a doctor.” There was an odd note of antipathy in Julian’s voice that made her look at him in surprise. Bewildered, she glanced at Harlan and saw his expression of puzzlement quickly change to startled misgiving. The instant the physician realized she was watching him, he assumed his usual professional countenance. Harlan smiled reassuringly at her, but she couldn’t help thinking he knew something she didn’t.

“I don’t think you need a doctor either, Crianlarich,” the doctor said with a quiet authority he’d always used when she had been a difficult patient. “But your brother-in-law is correct. Your wife could be injured if you suddenly collapsed on the stairs. I should be the one to help Mr. Rockwood assist you up the stairs.”

Julian remained silent, but after a long moment he acquiesced to Harlan’s recommendation with a grunt. Slowly, he lifted his arm off Patience’s shoulder then with a gentle nudge, he pushed her away from him. Harlan quickly took her place.

“Let’s get you upstairs and into bed,” the doctor said quietly as he and Percy guided Julian up the stairs. “Mrs. MacTavish, if you don’t mind, would you retrieve my medicine bag from my room.”

“Of course,” she said with a nod and hurried up the stairs leaving the two men to help Julian navigate the path to the second floor.

Patience quickly found Harlan’s room and collected the black leather satchel. As she returned to the corridor, she saw her brother and the doctor half-carrying Julian into his room. Her heart sank. Julian hated anyone seeing him weak or helpless in any way. She bit down on her bottom lip and walked quickly down the hallway with the heavy bag Dr. Branson always carried with him.

She reached Julian’s room in time for her to see Percy adjusting her husband’s legs onto the bed. Patience barely looked at the doctor as she handed his bag to him and went to Julian’s side. It was easy to tell Julian was in a great deal of pain from the way his shoulders and neck were knotted with tension. Dr. Branson bent over Julian on the opposite side of the bed to take his pulse and do a cursory examination. A low growl of irritation rumbled in her husband’s chest, but it didn’t stop Harlan’s efficient, professional manner.

Patience took Julian’s hand in hers and bent her head to kiss his fingers. In response, his hand immediately clutched hers firmly. Harlan raised his head to look at Patience.

“I have some herbs in my bag that have proven effective with some of my patients who have migraines,” he said quietly. “We can mix them with hot tea. I believe the taste is far from pleasant, but it should help.”

“I do no’ need anything except rest,” Julian snapped hoarsely.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Julian,” she said in a hushed voice. “If Dr. Branson thinks it will do you good, you should try it.”

“I do no’ need the mon’s help.” Julian’s short, clipped words were filled with anger and pain. Patience winced.

“Please, Julian. Please let him help you, if only to ease my mind that you’ll be all right.”

“Mrs. MacTavish, Percy—why don’t you let me have a few moments alone with the Crianlarich. Perhaps someone could fetch some tea?”

Startled by her doctor’s continued formality when addressing her, Patience looked at him in surprise. A gentle smile curved Harlan’s lips as he encouraged her to do as he asked with a slight nod. Julian’s hand tightened on hers, and she pressed her lips to his fingertips.

“I’ll return in a few minutes, my darling,” she whispered as she pulled free of his grasp and left the bed. His only response was a low groan of pain. As she left the room, Percy followed her. The door to Julian’s bedroom closed behind them, and she had gotten halfway down the hall before Percy’s fingers bit into her arm. As he pulled her to a halt, Patience shot a glare of exasperation over her shoulder at her brother.

“I need to fetch Julian’s tea.”

“In a minute, I need to talk to you first.”

“What can be any more important than seeing to Julian’s health?”

“Nothing, except the fact that you seem oblivious to the fact that Julian doesn’t want Dr. Branson’s skills as a physician.”

“What?” She shook her head slightly at the suggestion. “Why ever not?”

“Because Branson is in love with you,” Percy said quietly. “And my guess is that Julian either knows or suspects the man’s secret.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Patience waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Do you really think a doctor would make a house call so far away from his practice unless the patient was very special?”

“But I never…oh, dear Lord.” She stumbled over her words as she tried to comprehend what her brother had told her. “You must be wrong, Percy.”

“I wish I were, and I wish I’d realized it before we left London. I would have found a reason for the man to stay behind.”

“But he knows I love Julian.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t still love you, Patience.” Her brother bowed his head for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck then looked at her again. “Branson’s a good man. He won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable while we’re here.”

The sound of a door closing made Patience and her brother jump as they jerked their heads toward the sound. Patience’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Harlan walking toward them. He arched his eyebrows at her and smiled.

“It appears you were delayed in securing the Crianlarich’s tea.” The gentle chastisement made Patience wince.

“I’m sorry…Percy was…I needed to discuss a matter with my brother.” She looked helplessly at her brother then back to Harlan.

“Ah, yes.” There was a world of understanding in the doctor’s short reply, and Patience flinched as he studied her carefully. “Might I have a word with you in private, Patience?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod. Percy hesitated, and Patience touched his arm in a reassuring manner. When she directed a reassuring smile at him, Percy reluctantly bobbed his head in agreement.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said somberly. Percy had taken only a few steps when Harlan called out to him in a quiet voice.

“I think we should return to London tomorrow, Percy.” When Patience and Percy looked at him in amazement, the man’s mouth curled upward. “So it is possible that the Rockwoods and their special gifts have limitations after all.”

There was no judgment in the doctor’s voice, but Patience flinched nonetheless. Regret darkened Harlan’s face, and he quickly stepped forward to take her hand in his.

“Forgive me, Patience.” The remorse in his apology made her smile but it quickly abated as she looked into his eyes. There was the same look of pain she’d seen in Una’s green-eyed gaze earlier. Something in her expression made him shutter his gaze against her probing look. Behind her, Percy cleared his throat.

“I’ll go get that tea.” Her brother’s words broke through the suddenly tense atmosphere. Patience turned to see Percy walk away leaving her alone with the physician. When she turned back to Harlan, she caught the fleeting glimpse of pain on his face that she’d seen only a short moment ago. His expression quickly changed to a kindly look. It was a look that had earned him her gratitude and affection. Resignation crossed his face.

“Your expression reveals you are not entirely oblivious to my feelings where you’re concerned.” His direct manner reminded her of all the other times during her period of healing where he’d forced her to face the truth.

“Only up until a few moments ago. Percy only just realized it himself this morning.”

“At least I was not as transparent as I feared,” Harlan said with an ironic twist of his lips. “It was a bit daunting to guard my secret when it comes to the Rockwood ability to see things others cannot.”

“But you know how unreliable my gift is when it comes to people I…care about.”

“At least I am afforded some small part of your heart,” he murmured with a grimace at her words. Patience quickly stepped forward to touch his arm.

“You do have a special place in my heart, Harlan,” she said gently.

“Just not in the way I’d hoped,” he said with a sad smile. “The Crianlarich is a fortunate man.”

“I’m the fortunate one. I simply didn’t see it until it was almost too late.”

“Then you’ve conquered all your fears?”

The question made her swallow the knot that quickly formed in her throat. The memory of Julian’s demand that she share her darkest secrets with him still hung over her head like Damocles’ sword. When she didn’t answer, the doctor released a sigh of disappointment.

“The man deserves nothing less than your complete honesty, Patience.”

“I’m barely able to admit the truth to myself.”

“Sharing the darkest, most human, part of ourselves is the ultimate declaration of love,” Harlan said with the quiet gentleness she’d become so familiar with. “I know you love him, but do you love him enough? Can you forgive yourself for whatever your dark secret is? Give yourself the courage to share it with him?”

“But you know how terrible it is,” she exclaimed as her heart ached with the knowledge she was glad she hadn’t been the one who’d died in the fire that night.

“No, but I have my suspicions,” he said quietly as he met her gaze steadily. When she looked away from him. He caught her chin with his fingers and forced her to look at him. “You’re not the only one who suffered a devastating loss the night of that tragic fire, Patience. MacTavish lost his wife. Isn’t it time you give her back to him, even if she’s a changed woman?”

“Yes,” Patience whispered.

“Good,” Harlan said with a slight smile. “I’ll add the herbs to his tea and along with a drop or two of laudanum to help him sleep. I think he’ll be much better when he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Harlan. You’re so very dear to me.” Patience caught his hands in hers and squeezed them tight.

“Just remember that no matter what the future brings, the man loves you no matter what has come between you in the past,” he said quietly as he leaned forward to kiss her brow.

Patience nodded her head and hurried back down the hall to Julian’s room. In the back of her mind, Harlan’s last comment triggered a warning bell she didn’t comprehend. She pushed the thought aside as she entered Julian’s room. Nothing mattered except her husband and making certain that he understood how desperately she loved him.

Chapter 16

The quiet chime of the mantel clock broke through Julian’s sleep, and his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he experienced a sense of disorientation as he saw the brilliant white light streaming through the bedroom window. The clarity of the dark, yet vividly visible, surroundings of his bedroom highlighted by the moonlight made his heart slammed into his chest. He could see. The knowledge made his gut twist with fear. Was he dreaming?

He blinked rapidly expecting his vision to be gone again. It remained. He shot upright in his bed with a shout of jubilation rising in his chest. Just as he was about to release the yell when a soft, delicate sound filled the air. The cry died in his throat as he recognized Patience’s gentle snore. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. She was here—with him. Julian turned his head to look at his wife.

A silky web of moonlight cast a soft sheen of pale color across her face. Staring down at her, his insides knotted painfully as he struggled to grasp that he was actually seeing her face for the first time in almost a year. Christ Jesus, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her, but he didn’t. She might awaken, and he needed time to adjust to the fact of his sight having returned to him. Time to come up with a way to tell her.

His mind flashed back to the few minutes Dr. Branson had spent questioning him after Patience and her brother had left the room earlier in the day. Despite the fact that his head had been splitting with pain, he’d wanted to wring the man’s neck for having come to Crianlarich. The fact that the man had come all the way from London to see Patience told Julian the doctor had feelings for his wife.

The last thing he wanted was the man anywhere near Patience. It didn’t matter that she’d said she loved him. Things were still too tenuous between them, he wasn’t about to give her a reason to run into the arms of another man. Julian grimaced as a slight twinge of pain tugged at his forehead. Despite his antipathy for the man, the doctor had been professional in his manner.

Branson had said it was possible his persistent headaches were brought on by stress, but that more than likely it was the body’s way of restoring his sight. Julian hadn’t believed the man at the time, but now—his gaze focused on Patience’s sweet face once more. God, how much he loved her. He allowed himself the small pleasure of pushing a lock of hair off her face. The moment he did so, she shifted her head with a quiet murmur, and he drew in a sharp breath of horror as the moonlight exposed the extent of her scars. Bile rose in his throat. God help him. What she must have suffered those months after the fire. As he studied the damage to her face, his throat closed with emotion.

He’d almost lost her.

He still could.

Fear snaked through him. The moment she learned he could see again, she might run. She’d freely admitted she wouldn’t have returned to Crianlarich if he hadn’t been rendered blind by the accident. Julian closed his eyes before looking down at her again. She’d thought him incapable of loving her in spite of her burns, but she was wrong. Where she saw ugliness, he saw the beauty of a soul willing to die for those she loved. She possessed a courage he couldn’t begin to fathom.

Patience sighed again, and he quickly laid back down and closed his eyes. He had no idea how to handle the current situation. She turned over and nestled her body against his, and a mixture of happiness and dread rolled over him with the force of the rushing waters tumbling over the rocks at Eas Falloch.

“Julian?” His name was barely a whisper on her lips, and a small smile curved his mouth.

“Yes, mo ghràdh.” At his quiet reply, she released a sigh. It vibrated with the quiet timbre of sheer happiness. Julian wrapped his arm around her and bent his head to brush his mouth against the top of her head.

“Is your headache better?”

“Whatever that doctor of yours gave me worked wonders.” Despite his efforts to keep his voice devoid of anything other than nonchalance, he knew he’d failed when she came up on her elbow. He intentionally kept his eyes closed as he sensed her staring down at him.

“He’s only a friend,” she said in a hesitant voice. “I could never love him.”

“And why would that be, mo leannan?”

“Because I love you, Julian. I’m yours heart, body, and soul.”

The touch of her lips against his made his heart thunder so loudly in his ears he thought it might be the beginnings of another headache. The moment she retreated, he pulled her back. One hand curled around her neck, he kissed her and relished the hot sweetness of her lips.

With a sigh of surrender, she willingly gave him access to the delicious heat of her mouth. She tasted of cinnamon and sugar. Julian took his time savoring her as their tongues mated in a fiery dance of passion. Under the covers he was already naked, and he could only assume she’d undressed him as he slept. She on the other hand wore a nightgown of soft linen. As he deepened their kiss, his hands gathered the material at her hips and tugged the garment upward.

The need to explore every inch of her made his hands fumble slightly as she moved to help him pull her nightgown over her head and toss it aside. He rolled her onto her back, capturing her mouth before feathering kisses across her unmarred cheek. She sighed softly, and he recognized it for the happiness he was feeling as well. Ever so slowly, he trailed small kisses along the line of her jaw as he worked his way to the left side of her face. The instant his mouth touched the edge of her scarred features, she stiffened beneath him.

“Don’t,” she exclaimed softly and turned her head away to prevent him from going any further. Deliberately keeping his eyes closed, he kissed the silky smooth cheek she offered him.

“Let me love all of you, mo ghràdh,” he whispered as his index finger gently turned her face back toward him. “You are mine, mo leannan. I love everything about you. What sort of man would I be if I loved only a part of you?”

“You don’t understand.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and he caught the scent of her salty tears.

“Do no’ cry, my darling lass.”

“I can’t help it. I’m… I’m a terrible…terrible person.”

“Why in God’s name would ye say such a thing, let alone think it, Patience?”

He struggled not to look at her, instinctively knowing that to do so would shift the pivotal nature of their conversation. She’d said her soul was his to love and keep, but she needed to trust him completely with whatever darkness was buried inside her. When she didn’t answer him, he kissed her gently. He braced himself on his side with his elbow then traced an invisible line from the base of her throat to the valley of her breasts.

“Tell me, mo ghràdh,” he whispered. “There is no’ a part of you that I could no’ love, good or bad.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she said in a tear-filled voice.

“Trust me, mo leannan. You have given your heart to me. Trust me to treasure it as I know only I can.” His words went unanswered, and he pressed a tender kiss to her brow. Silently, he urged her to break down all the barriers between them.

“I survived.” The words were barely audible, and he wasn’t even certain she’d spoken. His next thought was that he didn’t think he’d heard her correctly. With a frown he shook his head in puzzlement.

“Aye, that you did, and I can no’ say it enough as to how grateful I am for that.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she whispered, and he frowned in confusion at the self-loathing he heard in her voice. She dragged in a quick breath of air. “I mean, I’m glad it wasn’t me who died that night.”

“I do no’ understand, lass. Why should ye no’ be glad you lived.”

“No, I mean I’m glad I wasn’t the one who fell into the flames.” The words she choked out were filled with profound guilt. The sound made a tight band encircle Julian’s chest as he realized what she was trying to say.

“Patience, did you want Caleb or Devin to die?”

“No,” she cried out with a wealth of misery.

“Do you think either one of them would no’ have been willing to give their lives to see you safe and unharmed?”

“But I don’t think I would have been able to die for them.”

The words echoed through the room like a cry of a wounded animal. The anguish in her voice made him pull her close as he fell back into the mattress. Tears wet his chest as his wife trembled violently against him. God help him, no wonder she’d not wanted to see any of her family or him after the fire. He had no doubt her guilt had been eating her up inside.

The fact that she’d shared her darkest part of her was humbling. Unable to think of anything to say at the moment, he remained silent. He simply held her and allowed her to release everything she’d kept locked up for so long. Slowly her tears and trembling abated until she lay still beside him. After a period of time, Julian carried her hand to his lips.

“You are wrong to think you could no’ have given your life for them, mo ghràdh,” he said quietly as he kissed the palm of her hand. “You did that the moment you insisted Caleb carry Alma to safety knowing you would be left alone.”

“I couldn’t have saved Alma. Only Caleb had the strength to save her, not me.”

“Aye, and yet you insisted your brother go first with the child while you remained behind in your determination to see them and the other children safe. It was no’ your fault Patience, any more than it was your fault not to understand the an dara sealladh.” Julian kissed the palm of her hand before pressing it against his cheek.

“But the children don’t have their fathers,” she whispered with a deep anguish that declared how big a heart she possessed.

“Aye, tis a sad thing, but tis no’ wrong to be glad you are alive. I am sorry Caleb and Devin died, but I give thanks every day that you lived,” he said with a feeling of selfishness. “If that is wrong or self-serving of me, I can no’ help it. You are the air I breathe, the heat that warms me, and my reason for living.”

Her arm tightened around his waist, and she clung to him in a manner that made his heart swell with contentment that she’d trusted him. Julian’s hands caressed the curve of a soft, plump hip. In the short month she’d been at Crianlarich, Mrs. Lester had almost fully restored his wife’s curvaceous figure. She’d been far too thin when she’d returned home.

Patience moved against him, and his cock stirred to life. She shifted her body until she was pressed into his side, and her fingers skimmed their way down across his chest to his stomach. As her hand moved downward, desire made him hard as iron. The instant she touched him, he uttered a low growl of pleasure. At the sound, she kissed his shoulder with a quiet murmur that he thought might have been a laugh.

His body jumped as her hand wrapped around him in a firm, pleasantly snug grip. The touch pulled a louder groan from him. A small thumb rubbed over the tip of him, smearing the wet drop she found there across his skin. Once more her body moved against his. While her hand worked his cock, her mouth caressed his shoulder then his chest as she inched her way downward.

Anticipation grew inside him as her mouth burned his flesh. There was a tenderness to each kiss she placed on his body. It aroused his need for her until he was painfully hard. His cock jumped then stiffened more as she blew a gentle breeze across his erection. The moment she took him in the white heat of her mouth, he shouted with pleasure. Slowly, her mouth teased and tormented him until he was certain he would spill his seed prematurely. Unwilling to deny himself the satisfaction of losing himself in her body, he pulled her upward to kiss her hard. Without prompting, she settled herself on top of him.

A soft cry of delight parted her lips as she began to rock her hips against his. Eyes still closed he thrust upward into the sultry heat of her core. With each stroke of her body against his, he silently claimed her as his own. The sharp edge of desire tugged at him until he was oblivious to everything but her. There was only the gentle scent of her desire, the silkiness of her skin against his, and the sweet sound of her moans of delight. This time he would not let her go. He would make her see the darkness was only one facet of her. She was his, and he would not give her up.

§ § §

Desire and need swept over Patience with the strength of a wild wind across the moors. The emotions swirled around her and drove her to worship his hard body with her softer one. He filled and stretched her until she thought her heart would weep for the joy their lovemaking brought her. Stroke for stroke her body adored his with everything she had to give.

Suddenly the first ripple of a climax skimmed through her. With each passing second the ripples grew and expanded until her entire body was on fire. The intensity of it grew until it became a tumultuous crescendo of passion and each spasm deepened the pleasure binding her to him. Beneath her, Julian groaned loudly, as her body gripped him tightly.

The friction of their joining pulled a cry of ecstasy from her as her body raced toward a fulfillment unlike anything they’d shared before. It was a moment of all-consuming need that bound them together for a lifetime. The moment she reached the threshold of her release, Julian urged her to ride him hard and fast. As he thrust into her at a furious pace, it heightened the force of her own pleasure.

Just when she thought it impossible for her to reach a higher peak of delight, his body took hers higher until she cried out and shattered over him. As she clutched at his body with the strength of her climax, Julian grasped her hips and with one last thrust he buried himself deep inside her and throbbed with the ultimate of possessions.

Ever so slowly her body descended from the pinnacle he’d carried her to. Her eyes opened, and she stared down at his beautiful, chiseled features. Her Highlander was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and she was his—she was the Highlander’s woman. The moonlight caressed his noble features, and she stared down into his coffee-colored eyes. She frowned. Something was different. It was if he could actually—her heart plummeted to her stomach as bile rose in her throat.

Dear God, he could see her. In one violent move, she recoiled and broke away from him intent on escape. Strong hands caught her waist, and in a flash of movement Julian pinned her beneath him. She met his gaze for a brief moment then closed her eyes unwilling to see the pity in his gaze. Stiff and motionless against him, her heart exploded in a fiery blaze that died just as quickly, leaving her with nothing but a charred object in her breast. How could she possibly stay at Crianlarich now? Her hideous scars would repulse him. A tear slipped out from under her eyelids and a warm mouth kissed it away.

“Do you no’ realize how beautiful you are mo ghràdh?” he asked softly as he continued to kiss the scars on her cheek. Patience shuddered at the caress, but remained motionless. How could he say she was beautiful when he could see her scars now? All she wanted to do was escape this nightmare. He’d made love to her without telling her things had changed.

“You lied to me,” she said in a flat voice.

“I did no’ lie to you, lass.”

“Deceived then. You made love to me knowing you could see my…you didn’t give me the choice...” She didn’t finish her sentence as she saw anger darken Julian’s face.

“The choice to do what, Patience? Run?” he snarled. “Tis time for you to stop running from me? Did you no’ tell Una that your scars do no’ define who you are?”

“That was different,” she protested vehemently.

“How?” He glared at her, silently demanding an answer.

“You couldn’t see me,” she whispered. She’d forgotten how relentless the man could be when he was convinced he was right. “You only saw the woman you remembered before the fire.”

“God in heaven woman, you’re the one who can no’ see,” he ground out harshly. “I’ve always been able to see you, mo leannan.”

“You were blind,” she snapped. “How could you possibly see me?”

“There other ways to see, Patience,” he said quietly as he caressed the curve of her shoulder before his hand glided down to the scarred patches of skin on her arm. “My hands saw you every time I touched your scars. They told me how you were hurting inside.”

She remained frozen as his fingers lightly stroked one of the places where the fire had burned her. Unable to respond, she tried to keep breathing as his mouth caressed the inside of her wrist before his lips made their way up over the damaged skin of her arm.

“I see every inch of you simply when I breathe.” There was an almost hypnotic note in his voice that slowly eased some of her tension. “Just the scent of you tells me when you’re happy or when your body is ready for mine. My eyes aren’t the only way I know or see you, mo leannan.”

“But…” her voice died as she flinched at the reality he had already seen her ravaged skin, and yet he seemed unaffected by the extent of her injuries.

“Do no’ argue with me, Patience Rockwood MacTavish,” he growled. “Do no’ tell me about your scars. I do no’ see them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, angered that he could suggest her burnt skin was invisible to the human eye.

“Are you calling me a liar, Patience?” The dangerous note in his voice made her flinch. There were many things that could anger Julian, but someone questioning his word was perhaps one of the worst.

“No,” she said as she turned her head away from him.

Firm fingers gripped her chin, and he turned her head so her scarred face was covered in moonlight. She trembled and tried to jerk free of his grasp, but his grip was unrelenting. Slowly, Julian leaned forward and brushed the burnt flesh of her cheek with his lips.

“Where you see scars, I see a woman willing to give her life for those she loves. Where you see burnt flesh, I see the courage of a woman who chose to fight and live. I do no’ see your scars, mo ghràdh. I see only the heart of a woman worthy of the title, Mistress of Crianlarich.”

Julian’s lips deliberately caressed the rough skin of her burned cheek. His kiss was reverent, and tears flowed down her cheek as she trembled in the face of his loving devotion. Patience cupped his face in her hands and returned his kiss. Slowly lifting his head, Julian studied her intently. When she didn’t say a word, a contented expression settled on his face, and his dark brown eyes gleamed with the bright edge of satisfaction in the moonlight.

“At last, my wife has learned no’ to argue with me.” The confidence in his voice made her eye him with resigned amusement before the image of an out-of-control blaze flitted through her head.

“You can’t expect me to forget everything that’s happened since…since that terrible night.”

“No, mo leannan, you will no’ forget. But I’ll remind you every day and night that your scars are a reflection of the beauty of your heart and soul.” The sincerity in his voice made Patience’s heart ache with love and happiness for having married a man who loved with such depth of emotion.

“I love you, Julian. I love you so much,” she said softly.

Her hand curled around the nape of his strong neck, and she tugged his head down to hers. Tenderly and lovingly, Patience kissed him with all the love filling her heart. It would take time for her to totally accept Julian’s reassurance that the scars she saw in her mirror were the same scars Julian saw. But she knew his love would help her overcome that hurdle.

As their kiss deepened, Patience experienced a familiar need stirring inside her. Desire flared in her veins until her blood ran hot and thick like molten lava. Julian broke their kiss and raised his head.

“I love you, mo ghràdh. Do no’ ever forget that.” The authoritative note in his voice emphasized he intended to ensure she had no choice in the matter. It was a command she would have no difficulty obeying. Patience smiled slightly as she shifted her hips against his growing erection.

“Then show me, my love,” she whispered enticingly. Passion warmed Julian’s sharp, angular features as he proceeded to do as she ordered in a way only a Highlander could.

— The End —

Thank you for reading The Highlander’s Woman! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help other people find this book:

1. This book is lendable, so loan it to a friend who has an eReader from the same vendor as you. Please note that lending and sharing are two different things. Lending via a vendor does not violate the author’s copyright. Sharing the book by sending the eBook file to another reader does violate author’s copyright.

2. Help other people find this book by writing a review. Even an honest, two-line review has meaning for other readers.

3. Sign up for Monica’s Newsletter, so you can find out about upcoming releases.

4. Like Monica’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMonicaBurns

5. Visit Monica’s website to read one or more chapters of all her books or download her sampler;

6. OR you may also download her FREE sampler at Amazon, iBooks, BN, Kobo, Smashwords, and ARe.

7. Read on to enjoy a special preview of another of my books!

Special Preview of Forever Mine

WARNING: This book contains a proper English earl, whose frozen heart hides a tortured soul, and a feisty modern-day heroine determined to make the man see things her way. With a lovable cast of characters this book will earn a place on the keeper shelf.

Thrown back to the year 1897, Victoria Ashton is mistaken for, and forced to impersonate, the spiteful, unfaithful Countess of Guildford, who's been missing for three weeks. Despite Victoria's attempts to convince the earl she's not his wife, her double's infidelity and lies make it difficult, especially when Victoria falls in love with a man who loathes her.

Nicholas Thornhill, Earl of Guildford, is plagued with rumors he murdered his missing wife. When she unexpectedly reappears, he scoffs at her latest in a long string of lies. But the changes in Victoria make him to alter his opinion as he forges a bond with her that crosses the boundaries of time.

NOTE: This book is a 125,000 words. For readers who do not enjoy sex scenes, there is 3.75% (16 pgs out of 443) of content. The F-word occurs 34 times, which 1% of a 443 page book. Men as a general rule have used the F-word long before the Victorian era, which this book is set in. Please factor this into your buying decision. If you are uncomfortable with these numbers, it is doubtful you will enjoy the read.

Chapter 1

Present Day

“I don’t believe it.”

“Which is precisely why you owe me fifty pounds, oh, ye of little faith.” From her seat on the brown leather couch behind him, Nora snorted with laughter.

Nick Barrows ignored his sister’s gloating comment as he stared in amazement at the two paintings set up on easels beneath the Barrows Art and Antiquities logo. Once authenticated, the landscapes by Constable would be the biggest pieces the shop had ever acquired.

“And you found these in Nebraska?”

“I told you unclaimed property auctions were worth the travel expense.”

“Are you telling me there weren’t any other art dealers there? “

“A few. Like other states, Nebraska puts ads in the papers about their yearly sale, but most of the time the items are jewelry, coins, electronics, and other collectibles. I don’t think anyone realized what these were.”

“I suppose you’re going to want to go back,” Nick Barrows looked over his shoulder and grinned before looking back at the paintings.

“Of course, and you know, I think this brilliant acquisition of mine deserves a raise.”

“Uncle Charles gave you a raise a year ago,” Nick chuckled at his sister’s teasing jab. A second later, he realized his mistake and closed his eyes. He was an idiot. Filled with regret, he turned to face his sister. “Damn, I wasn’t thinking, Nora.”

“It’s okay. He would have said the same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders then laughed softly. “Then the next minute he’d be waltzing me around this tiny office of yours.”

Nora was right. Uncle Charles would have been overjoyed by her find and its impact on the shop. The old man had loved this place as if it were his child. He’d always said the shop possessed a soul. Nick had never understood his uncle as well as Nora had. The two of them had often talked ghosts, past lives, and supernatural theories well into the night. It was one of the reasons Nora had taken his death so hard. She’d lost the one companion who ‘got her’ as she was fond of saying.

“Somehow I think he’d be more proud than excited,” Nick said. “We’ve come a long way from those two angry American teenagers he brought to England and took into his home.”

“I don’t know how he managed it. Confirmed bachelors aren’t poster children for parenthood.” Nora shook her head in disbelief. “And we weren’t exactly easy to live with.”

“He understood. We were grieving for mom and dad, just like he was.” Nick stared down at his shoes for a second before he looked up at his sister. “It always amazed me how he seemed to know exactly what we needed and when.”

“I miss him, Nick.” Sadness filled his sister’s voice.

“I do too.”

His gaze swung to the portrait of the Countess of Guildford on the wall across from his desk. His uncle had taken him to the Brentwood Park estate sale years ago and the moment Nick had seen Lady Guildford’s portrait he’d stopped dead in his tracks. Uncle Charles had simply squeezed his shoulder then bought the portrait and gave it to Nick with nothing more than a simple statement that the portrait was his to do with as he wished.

How the elderly Englishman had sensed how much he’d wanted the countess’ portrait, he would never know. But he’d worked hard to show his uncle how grateful he was for the extraordinary gift. Emotion pushed its way to the surface, and he swiftly buried it. Determined to lighten the atmosphere, he folded his arms across his chest and pinned his gaze on Nora.

“I imagine you’re going to be impossible to live with for the next month or two.”

“Oh, you can count on that.” His sister’s forced laughter revealed how close she’d been to tears. “Especially since a certain someone said my trip would be a waste of money.”

Nora eyed him with a scowl, and he released a rueful sigh. She was going to make him pay dearly for having questioned her unusual gift at finding extraordinary pieces.

“Truce.” He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “From now on, your word is law when it comes to acquisitions. Satisfied?”

“It’s a start.” This time her laughter wasn’t filled with tears, and she waved a hand at the portrait hanging on the wall behind the couch. “What about her, are you going to start listening to me about the countess as well?”

A familiar tension slid through his muscles, tightening his chest. His amusement disappeared in an instant. His gaze flitted back to the portrait of Victoria Thornhill, Countess of Guildford before he frowned at Nora.

“That implies I need advice, and I don’t. The woman’s been dead for more than a hundred years.”

“But you have to admit your attachment to her portrait is a little extreme.”

“It’s not unusual for an antiquities dealer to have art work hanging in their office.” His comment made Nora snort.

“Artwork yes, but not a portrait you’ve drooled over ever since we were teenagers.”

“You’re exaggerating again.”

“Am I?” She eyed him intently for a long moment. “Then prove me wrong. Sell it.”

“No.” Tension charged the air with electricity as he glared at his sister.

“That’s what I thought.” Her matter-of-fact tone rubbed him the wrong way.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“If I tell you, you’re just going to tell me to fuck off.”

She was right. He knew what Nora believed, but he just wasn’t buying it. The notion that he’d known the Countess of Guildford in a past life was just as crazy an idea now as it was every time Nora broached the subject with him. Nick saw her sly look, and he clenched his jaw as he refused to take her bait.

Without a word, he turned away from her and picked up several invoices off the top of his desk. The figures were a blur as the image of Lady Guildford filled his head. What if his sister was right? What if he was—Christ, if Nora could read his mind right now, she’d hound him until the day he died. Who was he kidding, she’d do that anyway. He blew out a harsh breath of annoyance. At the sound, Nora scrambled to her feet.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, Nick. Isn’t it time you took a really hard look at yourself and that portrait?”

“Is there a point to this line of conversation?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible, while continuing his pretense of studying the invoices.

“Yes. The point is—you’re in love with a ghost.” Nora had never confronted him so bluntly before. He scowled at her over his shoulder then returned to his feigned review of the paperwork in his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that, Nicholas Barrows. That bloody portrait is what keeps you from leading a normal life. When was the last time you had a date? Even a one night stand?”

“My sex life isn’t any of your damn business,” he said through clenched teeth. The invoices in his hand crackled in his tight grip.

“Right. Sorry.” The tense atmosphere hung between them for several seconds, before he released a noise of frustration. Dropping the papers onto his desk, Nick turned around to face her. Leaning back, he rested his hips against his desk then folded his arms across his chest.

“Look, you and Uncle Charles have always believed that old family legend. I never have.” He didn’t flinch as his sister glared at him. “That damn necklace is a myth. Even if the earl gave his wife those sapphires, they were either sold or stolen a long time ago. My money’s on the sold theory. And I sure as hell don’t believe Lady Guildford is coming back from the dead to reclaim the damn thing. It’s a story. Nothing more.”

“All right, if you don’t believe the legend, why do you keep the woman’s portrait on the wall?

“For Christ’s sake. I like the painting. It gives me pleasure, how is that an issue?”

“It’s an issue because you’re pining after a dead woman.”

“God damn it, Nora. It’s just a portrait.”

“All right, then answer me this. Why is it you only date women with auburn hair and blue eyes like the countess?” The accusation in his sister’s voice made Nick rolled his eyes, while scrambling for an excuse that would stop her inquisition.

“I don’t only date women with auburn hair.”

“Oh please,” Nora snorted. “Shall I list them by name? Vivian, Viola, Veronica, Virginia, and my personal favorite, Vickie. Notice a pattern here? And isn’t it ironic their names all start with the same first letter as Lady Guildford’s name. Victoria.”

“Coincidence,” he snapped, glaring at his sister.

“The landscape painting? What about that?” Nora eyed him with that unnerving shrewdness that always made him think she could see through him or anyone else she talked too.

“What of it?”

“It’s taken you almost twelve years to agree that we put it up for sale. Why don’t you ask yourself why you’ve not been able to part with it or, for that matter, the portrait of the countess?”

“Fuck,” he snarled. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.

“And the third painting?” Nora narrowed her gaze at him. “The one Uncle Charles kept stored away? The moment you discovered it in his things after the funeral, you took it home.”

“Christ almighty, Nora. I deal in art and antiques. What’s wrong with me admiring the work of a man who painted two different portraits of the same woman as well as a landscape?”

Nick strode toward the window that overlooked the showroom. The second portrait of the countess had been far more intimate than the one he kept in his office. Although discreetly covered with a sheet, it was still a seductive, enticing portrait, one he’d not been willing to share with anyone. Even allowing the framer to see the portrait had filled him with a possessiveness he found confusing. Hands braced against the waist high window sill, he stared down into the gallery. There were a few customers studying various items, but they were nothing but blurred images in his head.

“Fine.” Nora’s voice echoed with irritation at her failed attempt to persuade him that he was obsessed with the Countess of Thornhill. Deep inside, he knew it was a true assessment on his sister’s part, but admitting that to Nora would open up doors he wasn’t willing to go through.

Nick fought to focus his gaze on the people in the gallery, but instead, the lovely features of Victoria Brentwood Thornhill, Countess of Guildford filled his mind as clearly as if she were alive and in front of him. Dark auburn hair framed around an oval face. Full lips curved in an inviting, sensual smile. Brilliant sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief.

Nick tightened his grip on the window ledge. Nora was right. He was in love with a ghost, or at least the image of one. A shrink would tell him he was avoiding personal relationships because of some trauma in his past, but it went deeper than that. There was a knowing that filled him every time he looked at the countess’ portrait. He couldn’t explain it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his sister about it either.

About to turn away from the window overlooking the gallery, Nick’s gaze caught sight of a woman standing in front of their collection of English pastoral scenes. When she tilted her head to study one of the canvases, the muted light from the ceiling’s track lighting set her auburn hair on fire. In the next moment the woman turned to face one of the sales clerks, and he inhaled a sharp breath.

Almost immediately, his chest constricted and his heart slammed into his ribs. Only twice before had he ever experienced this sensation, and each of those times it had been when he’d found a portrait of the countess. Transfixed, he stared down at the woman.

“God, Nick, are you okay? You look like you’re ready to pass out.” Nora joined him at the window. The moment his sister’s gaze landed on the woman, she gasped loudly. “Holy crap.”

Without a word, Nick brushed past Nora. As he headed toward the door, her hand caught his arm. He paused to meet her gaze and shook his head in a silent order not to stop him. Reluctance visible on her face, his sister released his arm. Nick wanted to run down the steps to the showroom, but he forced himself to descend the stairs at a slow pace. He was insane to think this was anything more than a coincidence. As he approached the woman, her distinct American accent floated through the air as she spoke to the salesclerk.

“I don’t know—thirty-five hundred pounds is a little more than I can really afford.”

“Think of it as an investment, miss.”

“An investment in the exchange rate you mean.”

The dry note in her voice forced Nick to cough as he stifled a chuckle. She turned at the sound, an impish smile curving her full mouth. But it was her eyes that made him stare at her. They were the same sapphire blue as the countess’. Again, he marveled at the resemblance. Without warning, she queried his opinion.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Nick met the brilliant blue gaze twinkling up at him. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn Lady Guildford had stepped out of the portrait hanging in his office. The woman tipped her head back as she returned his stare with equal intensity. In an absent-minded gesture, her long fingers brushed a stray strand of auburn hair off her cheek. A quickening surged deep inside him like the sudden stirring of a long lost memory. The sensation swelled.

Stunned by the force of the emotion, he realized somewhere in his past he’d experienced a moment similar to this one before. The sensation grew in strength. The smile curving her full mouth faded as confusion furrowed her brow. Mentally shaking his head, Nick forced himself to answer her question.

“Like Robert says, art is an investment, but I like to think of it more as an investment of the heart. Ask yourself if you can live without it.”

“No, I don’t think I can.” She turned back to the painting. Under the track lighting her auburn hair shone like lustrous silk. She sighed. “There’s something so familiar about it.”

For the first time, he looked at the canvas she was interested in purchasing and went rigid. He’d been so focused on her, he’d not even bothered to look at the painting she was standing in front of. It was Lockwood’s oil painting of Goodman Cottage at Brentwood Park. The landscape depicted a pond glistening in the afternoon sun as it played host to a pair of swans. Not far from the water’s edge, the thatched roof cottage sat nestled in the warm embrace of a small grove of trees. The sparsely covered trees with red, gold, and purple leaves indicated it had been close to the end of fall when the artist had painted his picture.

Nick had found the landscape in his uncle’s bedroom after the man’s heart attack. A little known artist, John Lockwood had painted both portraits of the countess as well as the landscape. The barely legible inscription on the back of the Goodman Cottage canvas, for my wife, Victoria. Nicholas – Christmas 1897, indicated the landscape had been a gift from Lord Guildford to his wife.

“Have you ever been to Brentwood Park?” He clenched his teeth. Why the hell had he asked her that?

“Brentwood Park?” She shook her head in puzzlement.

“It’s an estate a little southeast of the city. The cottage in the painting still sits on the grounds.” He nodded toward the canvas on the wall, but kept his eyes on her.

“I’ve never heard of it. If I have time next week, I might be able to check it out,” she murmured as she turned back to the painting and reached out to touch the frame. Uttering a small noise of decision, she turned her head toward the sales clerk. “Well, I guess I can’t leave without it.”

“Very good, madam. If you will come this way, I shall be happy to arrange the sale.”

“Robert, I’ll take care of the sale,” Nick said quietly as he reached out to grasp her arm and hold her in place.

He never heard the sales clerk’s response as electricity shot up his arm. The strength of the sensation barreling through him made him feel like someone was pummeling his entire body until he had no breath left in his lungs. Images flashed through his head like a carousel of pictures careening out of control.

Of all the faces dancing through his brain, she was always there. She was like the North Star, guiding him to a place he didn’t know existed. He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if this moment had happened before. As he stared down into her blue eyes, she shook her head slightly, and he was certain she was experiencing the same sensation.

“What’s your name?” His voice was hoarse as he struggled not to say something bizarre that would frighten her or worse make her dart out of the shop.

“Victoria Ashton,” she breathed as she reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. In the next instant, she jerked her hand away, clearly horrified by her action.

“Oh Lord, I’m sorry…that was incredibly rude of me.”

“No. It felt right.” He didn’t have the slightest idea why her touch seemed so natural and perfect, but then nothing about the last couple of minutes made any sense to him.

“I…have we met somewhere before?”

“That’s my pickup line, I think,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

Her laugh was as full-bodied as he remembered. Remembered? Nick pushed the absurd notion aside as he watched a flush of pink rise in her cheeks. Without thinking, he brushed his fingertips across her face. The moment he touched her, her hand came up to cup his, and she turned her mouth into his palm. The visceral emotion the action stirred in him made him pull in a sharp, deep breath.

“I don’t know what the hell is happening,” he rasped. “But you better tell me to stop now if you don’t want me to kiss you.”

Her sapphire eyes widened, before she closed the distance between them and there was only a hair’s breadth of space between. Her hand reached up to touch his brow and she smiled.

“I won’t stop you,” she whispered.

Locked in the grip of something he didn’t understand, Nick bent his head toward her. God, all he wanted was to taste her again. He needed to know if she tasted as sweet as he remembered. His mouth never touched hers as the explosion roared through the shop like a freight train.

The force of the blast threw him backward, and he fought to stay on his feet. A screech of metal tugged his gaze upward. Before he could react, the ceiling’s track lighting crashed downward then slammed into Victoria’s head and chest. He heard her grunt with pain as the blow sent her staggering backwards. In an involuntary effort to remain standing, she flung her arm outward to grab hold of something to save herself from falling.

Before he could leap forward or shout a warning, she grasped the black wire dangling from the ceiling. Agony contorted her features as electricity flowed through her then sent her flying backward to hit the wall like a rag doll. The unframed landscape of the cottage fell from the wall to the floor and landed beside her limp hand, the painting brushing against her fingers. Screams of pain and fear from inside and outside of the shop filled the air.

Leaping past the live wire, he crouched down beside Victoria’s still form. His hands shook as he gently rolled her onto her back sliding the painting away from her. She wasn’t breathing, and he couldn’t find a pulse in her neck or on her wrist. A wave of helplessness rolled over him. It had been like this the last time. He’d not been able to do anything to save her.

A growl of rage erupted from his throat. No. Not this time. He’d lost her in the past, and he refused to lose her now. Without thinking, he began to administer CPR. He didn’t know if he was doing it right, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. He’d failed the last time. He couldn’t let it end like that again. Quick chest compressions then two strong puffs of air into her mouth. Repeat.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of an ambulance. Panic set in as his efforts to revive her received no response. In a voice he didn’t recognize as his own, he called out her name then blew two hard breaths into her before increasing the strength of his compressions against her chest.

“Fight, Victoria, fight,” he commanded in a savage tone. “Do you hear me? I said fight.”

His command was harsh and inflexible, and he sensed a stranger slipping into his head. Relentlessly, he alternated between breathing into her mouth and returning to the sharp cadence of chest compressions. Deep within his memory, he recalled the pain and agony of a similar experience long ago. The indefinable connection to her that he’d experienced moments ago had become something even more tangible. A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Nick, she’s gone.” His sister’s words ripped a roar from him throat.

“No. You’re wrong,” he snarled as he knocked his sister’s hand aside.

With renewed force he pounded on Victoria’s chest then breathed air into her lungs. Logic disappeared to become raw, agonizing desperation. Unfamiliar images from a distant past merged with the present to fill him with dread. The savageness of his anguish choked him and threatened to push him over the edge as he worked to breathe and pound life back into her.

“God damn it, Victoria. Fight, damn you. Come back to me.”

The savage command went unanswered, and his anguish was an unbearable vise engulfing his body. A wounded howl of grief ripped out of his throat. She was gone. He’d lost her again. Life had lost its meaning.

Chapter 2

October 1897

The darkness of the dream enveloped Victoria as she spiraled downward to land on her bed with a jerk as pain rippled through her. Thousands of razor sharp needles stabbed at every inch of her. God, it was as if someone had doused her in gasoline then set her on fire.

The dream had become a nightmare of agony, and she ordered herself to wake up. She forced her eyes open to see nothing but a white mist filled with gray shadows. Oh God, she was blind. Panic flooded her veins as she tried to reassure herself it was a nightmare. Her eyes fluttered closed for a fleeting second. When she opened her eyes again, there was nothing except the fog cluttered with dark shapes. Voices echoed nearby, but a loud ringing in her ears made it difficult to make out what they were saying. Yet out of all the indistinguishable voices there was one she recognized. It was demanding. Arrogant. But she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before.

Victoria tried to turn her head toward the voice, but the movement sent a stabbing pain through her temple. She cried out. A dark shape suddenly blotted out the cloudy landscape of her vision. A warm hand touched her forehead before the shape abruptly disappeared. Slowly, the voices and ringing in her ears ebbed away. Victoria blinked several times in an attempt to clear her vision then sat up.

The instant she moved, she uttered a cry of misery at the explosion of pain in her head. The heel of her palm pressed against her forehead, she bit back the bile threatening to rise in her throat. After several long moments of anguish, the pain and nausea eased.

This had to be the worst fricking hangover she’d ever had. Not that she’d had that many. She winced. Had she gone to a bar last night? She didn’t remember going to one. Hell, she didn’t remember much of anything over the last several weeks. The one thing she did remember was her argument with her father a year ago and what had happened a few hours later. She pushed back the tears. Images whirled and flitted through her brain. She was on vacation. She remembered that much at least. But there was one thing she was certain of. This was not her hotel room. Her gaze swept over the simplicity of the stark room. Despite the brilliant stream of sunlight flooding through the window it was cold. She shivered. Someone had set the AC way too low.

If it weren’t for the fire in the hearth the room would be even colder. It didn’t make any sense why someone would have a fire with the AC going. Her gaze swept across the room’s meager furnishings. Planks of rough-hewn wood served as the floor, while a white plaster covered the walls. It looked like something out of a Jane Austen movie. Oh God, had she decided to do one of those reality vacations? No, she couldn’t afford something like that, even if she’d wanted too. What was the last thing she’d been doing? She breathed in a quiet breath as she tried to ignore the hot needles that assaulted the back of her head. Where was she, and exactly how had she gotten to wherever here was? She groaned as the headache spread to her temples.

Victoria tossed her blanket off to one side and swung her legs out of bed. Fire streaked across her skin once more, while her chest hurt like someone had kicked her repeatedly. Had she been mugged? Even though she was in pain, self-preservation had her on her feet the minute a woman scurried into the room.

“Good heavens, my lady. You shouldn’t be out of bed just yet.”

“Who are you?”

Her words sounded hoarse, stiff, and stilted. Laryngitis. Could you get that from a hangover? If you were shouting over loud music all night long? Maybe she’d been mugged and choked in the process. It would explain her voice, the pounding in her head, and the way her body ached. It would also account for not knowing where the hell she was.

“I’m Bessie, my lady. Thomas Goodman’s wife. He found you near the pond this morning. You were like death warmed over when my Thomas brought you in.”

“Pond?” The hoarseness in her voice had disappeared, but it still sounded funny to her.

“Yes, my lady. Soaked through and through. If my Thomas hadn’t found you I fear the worst might have happened.”

Victoria shook her head in denial and winced as she pressed her hand against her forehead. She hadn’t been anywhere near a pond. She’d been in an art gallery. The sudden sliver of a memory tantalized her before it evaporated and pain took its place.

“Where am I?”

“Why Brentwood Park, my lady.” Bessie patted Victoria’s arm in a comforting manner.

“Brentwood Park,” she murmured. Where had she heard that name before? Another stab of pain erupted in her head, and she groaned softly. God, jackhammers were going off inside her head. She looked down at the white cotton gown she wore. She never wore nightgowns. Normally, she chose to sleep in the nude, although she would occasionally sleep in a pair of pajamas. Nightgowns? Never. They were little more than straight-jackets, and she never got a good night’s sleep with one on. Beside the bed, her hostess poured water from a beige earthen pitcher into a matching bowl. Wringing out a cloth in the basin, the woman turned her head to Victoria and smiled.

“Now then, my lady, let me see if I can clean that cut of yours.”

“Cut?” Victoria blinked with confusion.

“I don’t believe it will need stitching.” Bessie’s weathered features wrinkled up into a reassuring look as she dabbed gently at Victoria’s forehead. “Lucky is what you were. Another inch lower and you could have lost an eye.”

Baffled, Victoria gasped as cold water stung a tender spot just above her right eye. She lightly touched the wound and drew in a breath of surprise as Bessie gently pulled her hand away. When had she cut her head? Questions. Every time she answered one, half a dozen more sprang to life. She pulled away from the woman who was clucking over her like a worrisome mother hen.

“You said I’m at Brentwood Park. Is this a hospital of some kind?”

“Heavens, no, my lady. This is Goodman Cottage. Thomas and I are tenants of his lordship.”

“His lordship?”

“Lord Guildford, my lady. Don’t you remember?” The woman stared at her with a worried frown.

“I don’t know any Lord Guildford.” Victoria wanted to shake her head, but was afraid to for fear of pain.

“Oh dear…you must have hit your head much harder than we thought.” Bessie clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Now don’t you fret, I’ve seen this happen before. Your memory will come back right enough when you’re ready.”

“I haven’t lost my memory,” Victoria muttered stubbornly.

She remembered her name, her childhood, the night her father had died. She shoved that particular memory into a separate compartment. Right now she had to focus on figuring out where the hell she was. England. She was in England on vacation, by herself. It was impossible to know how long she’d been out, and right now all she wanted was to get back to her hotel. She frowned. Why didn’t she hear traffic outside? The quiet reminded her of the woods near Kerrigan Stables where she rode twice a week. A chill ran down her spine. If it were quiet outside, it meant she was in the country. She’d been in the city. How in the hell had she gotten from London to wherever this was?

“If you don’t mind, I’d like my clothes back so I can return to my hotel.”

“But, my lady, you just can’t—”

“Can’t what?” she snapped, more out of fear than anger. “Please bring me my clothes. I want—”

The door swung open with a loud screech. Instantly, she turned toward the sound and inhaled a sharp breath. Everything receded into the background as she met the hard, green-eyed gaze of the man entering the room. Before his arrival, the room had been comfortable in size, but now it closed in on her.

Power. Sheer power was the first thing that came to mind as her gaze ran over him. He was dressed for riding, but he wasn’t wearing jeans as one might expect. His apparel seemed more appropriate for a horse show. Fawn-colored breeches hugged sleek, muscular thighs. The snug fitting pants were tucked into a pair of shiny black boots with a dark brown cuff at the top. A starched collar jutted upward to part slightly at his throat, while a narrow, black tie encircled his neck. Dark wavy hair and those piercing green eyes of his completed the image of a man born to command. She swallowed hard. The man didn’t just ooze sex appeal, he defined it.

Deliberate and unhurried, he removed his black riding gloves and slapped them into his hand with a vicious crack. She jumped. Like an animal fascinated with its predator, she met his narrowed eyes warily. His barely restrained anger saturated the room with its raw heat.

Okay, now she was worried. Had she wrecked her rental car and damaged his property? Wait, did she even have a rental car? Damn it, how could she remember things from months ago, while the past couple of days and weeks were hazy at best?

“That will be all for now, Bessie. You may bring the countess her clothes shortly.” Despite her apprehension, the deep timbre of his voice turned her inside out. The man could easily give a woman an orgasm with that voice. Wait. Countess? What countess?

“Yes, my lord.”

Bessie quickly left the room as the stranger’s gaze remained locked with hers. The door closed behind the older woman, and something flashed in the man’s eyes as he moved forward. Victoria instinctively jumped backward as he brushed past her. He walked with a distinct limp as he crossed the room to the small window beneath an eave. Had he been in an accident or was the handicap from birth? The vague whisper of a memory teased her as she studied the back of his dark head. She tried to catch the thought, but it winked out of her grasp. Frustrated, she grimaced then started as the man turned and directed a harsh look in her direction.

“Do you want to tell me where the devil you’ve been for the last three weeks, Vickie?”

“I’m sorry?” She scowled at him. She’d never liked people calling her by that nickname. For some unknown reason, it had always had a negative connotation to it, and she hated the way it made her feel when someone called her by the name.

“Three weeks, Vickie.” The sharp words cracked through the air and made her flinch. “I’ve had private investigators looking for you for the past three weeks.”

“Look, you’ve obviously got me confused with someone else.” Bewildered, she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know you. My name is Victoria Ashton, and I don’t know this Vickie person.”

“Memory loss? Your creativity astounds me, my dear.” The condescension in his voice made the hair on the back of neck stand upright. Sex appeal or not, the man was an arrogant bastard. Victoria narrowed her eyes at him.

“I didn’t say I’d lost my memory. I said I don’t know you.” She silently dismissed her inability to remember the past couple of days or weeks. That didn’t count. She knew who she was.

His eyes were shards of green ice as he stared at her for a long moment. Then with an indifferent air he took a seat in the room’s only chair. Sitting sideways, he draped an arm over the wooden chair’s spindled back and crossed his bad leg over one knee. His relaxed posture only enhanced his commanding presence. Sexy or not, she was certain he’d be a dangerous man to cross.

“So you think I’ve confused you with someone else.” He surveyed her from head to toe with an insolent gleam before looking at the ring on his finger. “An odd statement considering I’d be hard pressed not to recognize my wife.”

The soft words sent her reeling back two steps. Frantically, she tried to recall what she’d been doing before she woke up in this nightmare. There was no way in hell she could be married. Was there?

She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would help her remember. The image of a large room with paintings flitted through her head. An art gallery. She’d been debating whether to buy a landscape. Hadn’t she? Images flew through her head so fast she couldn’t recognize most of them. An explosion. Had there been an explosion? It would explain the cut on her head if she’d been near glass.

Desperately, she tried to remember more. She’d been with someone. Who? Acute pain pulsed viciously in her head. Victoria tried to ignore it, but the harder she tried to pull answers from the shadows, the more intense the vicious pounding in her head. She released a soft sound of misery and gave up trying to recall the last couple of days. The moment she did so, the pain eased to a minor throb.

She was barely aware the stranger had moved until his sudden proximity enveloped her in a white hot heat. Firm fingers grasped her chin, and he tilted her face toward the sunshine streaming into the room. The pads of his fingers seared her skin, and she drew in a sharp breath. Hell, this man wasn’t just hot to look at. With one simple touch, he’d managed to make her legs wobbly as Jell-O. She dragged in another quick breath.

He smelled of horse, leather, and something spicy. He was raw male and the potency of him made her ache for something she hadn’t had in a long time. All the man had to do was kiss her, and she’d be melting in his arms. The thought made her lick her lips nervously. His gaze narrowed and his eyes darkened to a shade of evergreen before he jerked away from her and put several feet between them.

“I grow weary of this game you’re playing, Vickie.”

“I’m not your wife,” she snapped.

“Then tell me who you are, my dear.” The cold contempt in his voice could have frozen the air between them, and for the first time she realized she might be in real trouble.

“I told you, already. My name is Victoria Ashton,” she said as calmly as possible. “I don’t know you or how I got here. I just want my clothes back so I can get a ride back to London.”

For the briefest of moments, she could have sworn she saw doubt in his green eyes before a shutter fell into place, revealing nothing but amused cynicism. The insolence of his smile made her draw in a breath of irritation.

“A convincing tale, madam, but it lacks a certain, shall we say, finesse,” he drawled.

“Are you calling me a liar?” She wanted to kick herself. Of course he was.

“I’m simply stating the obvious. Your acting abilities have improved considerably, but this is a bit much, even for you.”

“Look, this is crazy. I was in an art gallery in London. I think there was some kind of explosion. The next thing I knew, I woke up here.” Her words instantly made her head hurt, and she winced.

“I’m a patient man, Vickie, but this charade is growing tiresome.” Anger tightened his sensual mouth. The fact that she was even thinking about his mouth annoyed her as much as his refusal to call her Victoria.

“So help me God, if you call me Vickie one more time…” She gritted her teeth and suppressed her anger. It wasn’t going to help things if she lost her temper. “I’m not your wife. My name is Victoria Ashton. I don’t know how I got here, and at the moment I don’t really care. If you’ll just give me my clothes back, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Enough.” The barely controlled fury in the command made her flinch. “If you continue with this farce, I’ll be forced to have you examined by a physician from the county asylum.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me,” she said fiercely as she returned his glare.

“It’s not a threat, Vickie. You’re clearly unwell.”

There was something about his icy demeanor that sent a shiver down her spine. He was dead serious. Fear slithered through Victoria. The man was clearly off his rocker, her clothes were missing, and no one knew where she was. Hell, she didn’t even know where she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door and lunged toward it.

With the advantage of surprise, she was slamming the door behind her before the stranger could stop her. Victoria heard him utter a violent curse, but didn’t wait to hear more. A cramped stairwell was only a couple feet away, and she plunged her way down the steep, narrow steps.

As she reached the last step, she stopped and stared. The large room looked like a historical exhibit. The woman who’d cleaned the cut on her head stood bent at a huge open fireplace stirring something in a kettle. Victoria hadn’t paid much attention to the woman’s apparel earlier, but now she realized Bessie was a walking advertisement for a tourist attraction. The rotund woman wore a brown dress that almost brushed the floor with a white apron tied around her waist. Victoria looked around the room in the hope her clothes might be close by, but they were nowhere in sight.

“God damn it, Vickie. Stop.”

The stranger’s voice held a dark and dangerous edge to it, and Bessie looked up from her kettle to stare at Victoria in astonishment. Not about to let the woman stop her, Victoria threw open the only door in the room and bolted outside. The cold air and patches of snow on the ground stunned her. It was the middle of May. Did England have snow as late as this? She squinted against the sunshine and paused to let her eyes adjust to the light. Behind her, the door to the small house swung open.

“Bloody hell, Vickie. Don’t be a fool. You’re not dressed.”

Victoria ignored his harsh words as she fled. Rough stones bit at her bare feet as she sprinted along the dirt path leading away from him. In front of her was a large pond, and at the water’s edge, the trail split to follow the shoreline all around the pond. Behind her, she heard her jailor call out a man’s name. A responding shout echoed out of the woods surrounding the water. Horrified, she saw men emerge from the forest on each side of the pond.

With a glance over her shoulder, she saw her delusional interrogator gaining on her. For a man with a limp, he moved quickly. Frantic, she realized the water was her only hope of escape. She was a fast swimmer. If she swam to the opposite end of the pond, she might be able to escape. Self-preservation drove her forward, and she ran the last two steps to the water and dived in head first.

Cold fire engulfed her the instant she hit the water. The shock of it sent her up to the surface with a loud gasp. The icy water sucked the air out of her forcing her to fight hard to draw air back into her lungs. The fire feeding on her skin was almost as intense as the pain she’d endured when she’d woken up in this terrible dream. She was a strong swimmer, but the frigid water stole every ounce of strength she had. Desperately she fought to breathe as her legs gave way, and she sank beneath the water.

Come back to me.

The whisper echoed in her head, and she recognized it. But from where? Victoria stretched her hand out toward the sound. Strong fingers gripped her hand and pulled her back from the brink. Air filled her lungs as she sputtered and coughed violently. A moment later, a steely grasp encircled her waist to pull her upright.

Panic sailed through her again as she looked into a pair of green eyes, blazing with anger and something else. Although she was exhausted and horribly cold, she found the strength to struggle against his grasp.

“Damn it to hell, Vicki. No one’s going to hurt you. Stop fighting me,” he growled as he swung her up into his arms and carried her out of the water.

The sincerity in his voice pierced the fear twisting through her as his heat pushed its way into the icy cold layer of her skin. When they reached the shore, he set her down. Deprived of his warmth, a shudder whipped through her followed by another until she was shaking like a piece of paper dancing in the wind. A second later his riding coat covered her shoulders.

“Come, Bessie will get you out of this wet garment,” he said.

Before she could protest, he swung her up into his arms again and started back toward the cottage. She didn’t want to go back, but she was so damn cold. Worse, she didn’t know where to run to. Despite his warmth, she continued to shiver. The sound of his boots crunching against a small patch of snow on the trail made her wince.

“Why is there…snow on…the ground?” she asked through her chattering teeth.

“It’s not unusual for snow to fall in October, you know that.”

“October.” Victoria looked up at him in horror. Her teeth still clicking rapidly, she shook her head. “It can’t…be…October. It’s…May.”

“I can assure you, my dear, it is October.”

“The…date?”

“I believe it’s the thirtieth.”

“October…thir…thirtieth.” Something deep inside prompted her to ask what she didn’t want an answer to. “The…year?”

“The year is eighteen ninety-seven, my dear,” he said quietly as he came to a halt.

“Not…possible,” she chattered as shock rippled through her. Her stomach began to churn savagely, and she pushed at his shoulder. “Please…I’m…throw up.”

Without hesitating he lowered her until her feet rested on his boots in an apparent attempt to keep her bare feet off the ground. Bile rose in her throat, and she violently twisted free of his grasp then stumbled into the snow-patched grass lining the path. A moment later, she threw up as if she’d been out drinking all night.

Cool hands gently pulled her hair away from her face, holding it out of the way as she threw up whatever was in her stomach. As her heaves abated, he offered her a linen handkerchief lightly scented with the crisp odor of mint. Victoria wiped her mouth with the white square and closed her eyes.

“It’s a dream. Just a really bad dream,” she mumbled to herself. Screw Einstein’s theory of relatively. It wasn’t possible to travel through time. “Wake up Victoria. It’s just a nightmare.”

Victoria slowly opened her eyes and sucked in a quiet breath of despair. She was still here. Silently, she stared at the cottage in front of her. It looked so familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen it. Snow dusted the roof, and brightly colored leaves clung with desperation to tree branches hanging over the small house. She drew in a sharp breath. The art gallery. She’d been about to buy a painting of this cottage.

A shudder hammered through her, and she pulled the stranger’s riding jacket close around her. He uttered something harsh under his breath then swooped her up into his arms again. In silence, he carried her toward the cottage. Scared, exhausted, and confused, she didn’t have the energy to protest. She closed her eyes again as she struggled to accept her situation.

“You recognize the cottage.” The quiet statement made her glance up at him, and she nodded.

“I saw it in a painting,” she answered hoarsely. “At the art gallery in London.”

“And yet you still maintain you don’t know me.” There was a hard note of skepticism in his voice. “Perhaps your head injury is more serious than Bessie suspected.”

“What? Oh, yes, my head.” She probed the swelling cut at her temple. She instantly regretted it as her head throbbed with pain again.

“I believe the first order of business is to get you into dry clothes. At the moment, your appearance is in a sad state of disrepair, and I have no wish to see my wife bounding about the countryside in a nightdress.”

“I’m not your wife.” With her chattering teeth, it was impossible to sound convincing.

“I believe we should have Dr. Bertram call on us. I’m sure he would find this unusual story of yours quite interesting.”

The threat of a doctor made Victoria flinch, and she looked away from him. Whether this was a dream or reality, she needed to bite her tongue. Mental health had only just come out of the dark ages in her own time. If she really was in the past, the last thing she wanted was a ticket to an insane asylum.

“I don’t need a doctor.” Her quiet response appeared to satisfy him. Several seconds later, he carried her into the cottage where Bessie greeted her like a mother hen would a lost chick.

“Bessie, I believe it’s time the countess was dressed properly,” he said as he kept his gaze on Victoria. “I’ll wait for her here.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“My coat, madam, if you please. It’s a bit chilly today.” Victoria’s shudder was more out of regret than her frozen state. He’d been cold because of her.

“I’m sorry. I was scared.”

She still was, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. With a grimace, Victoria removed his coat and handed it back to him. Surprise flashed across his face before he masked the emotion with indifference. He bowed slightly.

“I’ll leave you in Bessie’s capable hands. When you’re dressed, I’ll take you home.”

“But...I don’t even know who you are.” Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment at the look of disbelief he directed at her.

“So you’ve said,” he said dryly as he arched his brow in icy disdain. “Very well. I’m Nicholas Thornhill, Earl of Guildford. And you, madam wife, are Victoria Brentwood Thornhill, Countess of Guildford.”

With that introduction, he turned and limped away to stand in front of the fireplace with his hands outstretched to warm them. Something about his posture made Victoria long to run to him and reassure him that everything would be all right. She blinked at the crazy thought. She had enough to worry about. She shivered.

“Come along, my lady. We’ll get you warm and dry in a moment.” Half-hearing Bessie’s chatter, Victoria allowed the woman to lead her up the stairs to the room she’d fled a short time ago. After a few minutes in front of the fire, Victoria was feeling less frozen.

“Here you are, my lady.” Bessie held up a royal blue dress. “I’m afraid the gown’s ruined, my lady. Thomas found you lying by the pond.”

Huge patches of caked mud declared the silk gown had seen better days. As she stared at the dress, her shivering returned. Ice sluiced over her skin as if she were drowning in the pond again. A shadowy image flashed in front of her eyes, and she jerked in surprise. More images streaked through her head in a wild whirlwind of incomprehensible events. A singular, horrifying sound accompanied the pictures swirling in her mind. It was the distinct sound of a shovel hitting the ground with a sickening thud before earth scraped across the metal. Fear lodged in her throat as she saw part of a blue gown disappear beneath clumps of soil. It was the same gown Bessie was holding. Victoria’s stomach lurched violently.

“My lady, are you all right?” Bessie exclaimed. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine,” she focused her gaze on the older woman as the images faded into oblivion.

“Now don’t you worry about how it looks, my lady. As soon as you get back to the manor you’ll have dozens of gowns to choose from,” the woman murmured soothingly. The motherly clucks of dismay returned, as Bessie helped Victoria change out of her wet nightgown. In need of more information about the countess to help her navigate the minefield she was in, Victoria cleared her throat.

“Bessie, do you know anything about the…my disappearance?”

“Well, as I heard it, you left Guildford House for a fancy ball, but never arrived. His lordship searched high and low for you, he did. But you’d just upped and disappeared.” As the woman rattled on with her tale, Victoria dried off in front of the fire. “Of course, Lord Darby didn’t help matters none when you went missing. Thomas’ brother, George, works for the man. George says Lord Darby was running about all crazed like. He said Lord Darby accused his lordship of doing you in. And right there in front of the Prince of Wales himself, no less.”

When Victoria was dry, the servant woman threw a white, lacey undergarment over her head. Engrossed in the tale, Victoria didn’t protest as Bessie helped put a corset on. It was more like a bustier, and she was surprised it fit her full-figured curves so well. As Bessie reached for the muddied gown, the woman shook her head.

“Bless me if it wasn’t a scandal. There was talk of a magistrate and all sorts of doings. Right glad I am that you’re back, my lady. Lord Guildford is a good man. He don’t deserve to be treated like a criminal. He’d never hurt anyone.”

Victoria didn’t respond as she tried to process everything Bessie had shared. A murder accusation. No wonder the man was furious. The real question to ask was since she wasn’t Lady Guildford, exactly where was the earl’s wife? The memory of the dark images she’d seen made Victoria shiver. What if…no, she wasn’t going down that road. Wherever Lady Guildford was, Victoria didn’t like thinking the woman was in a shallow grave somewhere. Deep in the back of her mind, a voice argued with her, but she ignored it.

As Bessie slipped the gown’s soft, blue silk over her head, Victoria prepared herself for more unpleasant imagery. When nothing happened, she exhaled a sigh of relief and stood still as Bessie buttoned the dress the earl’s wife had worn. What was her connection to the earl or his wife? With everyone mistaking her for the countess, did she actually look like the woman? What if she didn’t look like herself. A shaft of panic shot through her.

“Bessie, do you have a mirror?” she rasped.

“But of course, my lady. It’s just a hand mirror, but it should do well enough. Let me fetch it.”

Bessie hurried from the room leaving Victoria to stare down at the mud on her dress. No, the countess’ dress. Where had the woman been to get so dirty? Dark images fluttered through her mind again, and Victoria pushed them out of her head. A moment later, Bessie returned and handed her a mirror. With a trembling hand, she lifted the hand-held mirror. Relief streamed through her as she recognized the reflection.

“Thank God.” A split second later she inhaled a sharp breath of fear. Her voice was different. Oh God, what she’d thought was laryngitis wasn’t that at all. A crisp, aristocratic accent had replaced her American one.

Chapter 3

Present Day

Nick paced the floor of the hospital waiting room. It had been almost an hour since he’d been ordered out of the trauma room filled with doctors bent over Victoria. Where his CPR skills had failed, the paramedics had succeeded, but she’d failed to regain consciousness. God, if he lost her again. Again?

Why in the hell would he think he’d gone through this before? He shoved a hand through his hair and stopped his pacing. What the fuck was happening to him? He was beginning to think he’d lost his mind. He’d just met the woman, and yet deep down in his soul, he knew his life would never be the same if she didn’t survive. The sound of feminine heels clicking against the floor made him turn around. As Nora entered the small visitors’ lounge, Nick closed the distance between them and gave her a hug.

“You okay?” he said huskily as he stepped back and inspected her face for any injuries.

“Just shaken up a bit. I was still upstairs when the explosion hit.”

“Christ, the shop—”

“It’s fine, just minor damage. I left Robert in charge,” Nora said in her practical manner that was at odds with her personal beliefs. “He’s making arrangements for security and repairs.”

“What the fuck happened? A gas leak?” Nick eyed his sister with disbelief.

“No. A bomb.” Anger darkened Nora’s features. “Some environmental extremists targeted the ad agency across the street for a recent campaign the agency did for an oil company.”

“Christ almighty,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I hope they catch the bastards and put their balls and heads on the Tower’s spikes,” Nora snapped viciously then eyed him with a look of worry. “Have you seen a doctor about this cut?”

“Cut?” He reached up to touch his face, and Nora immediately smacked his hand aside.

“Don’t be an idiot. You need to have a doctor look at this. It might need sutures.” Nora’s gaze swept over him then gasped in horror. “Oh my God, your leg.”

“My leg?” Nick looked downward to see his pants leg was split open and a long, deep gash that ran the length of his calf.

“Aren’t you in pain?” Nora asked, her face pasty white.

“No,” he said as he realized that wasn’t quite true. His leg had been aching from all the pacing he’d done. “It must be deep enough to have cut off the nerve endings. And stop looking at the damn thing before you pass out.

“You need to get that leg looked at, now,” his sister said firmly despite the sick look on her face.

“I’m not doing anything until I know Victoria’s all right.”

“Victoria?” His sister arched her eyebrow at him in a silent demand for an explanation.

“She told me her name right before the explosion.” He heard the defensive note in his voice. “She’s been in the trauma center for more than an hour. Fuck, if you’d seen the way she looked in the ambulance…”

Nick’s throat tightened and closed as fear threatened to suffocate him. His fingers gripped the back of his neck. He would never forget the light fixture as it crashed downward and slammed into Victoria or the look of agony on her face when she grabbed the live wire. Tension hardened his muscles as he remembered the way her entire body had jumped on the gurney when they’d shocked her heart.

“The ambulance? They don’t let people ride in the back.”

“They didn’t have much choice,” he muttered with a grimace. “I told them I was her fiancé, and I was going with them.”

“Good lord, Nick. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s like someone else has been in my head from the moment I first saw her. The only thing I’m certain of is that I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” Nora stared at him like he’d lost his marbles, which was precisely how he felt at the moment as he met his sister’s gaze of astonishment. “How can you lose someone you don’t even know, Nick? You’re confusing her with that damn portrait.”

“Now you’re the skeptic? And yeah, I’ve been questioning my sanity,” he said between clenched teeth. “But tell me Nora, what are the odds of a woman who’s a dead ringer for the Countess of Guildford, with the same first name of said Countess, coming into our shop out of all the hundreds of galleries in the city to buy the Goodman Cottage painting.”

“Lockwood’s painting?” Nora gasped. He waited for her to say something, but she simply stared at him in shocked disbelief.

“What? No words of wisdom or insight as to the fact that there are no coincidences in life?”

He knew she didn’t deserve the sarcasm, but he was fresh out of polite sentiment at the moment. Fresh out of patience with all this past lives talk of hers. He’d been listening to it for so long he was beginning to believe it himself. What the devil made him think he knew Victoria? His imagination was running amok because of guilt. Guilt that he was okay and that Victoria had nearly died and still might. He ignored the voice protesting vehemently in the back of his head.

“What would you like for me to say?” Nora asked quietly. His jaw tightened as he noted the pained expression in his sister’s brown eyes.

“You didn’t deserve that. I’m an ass,” he said as she dismissed his words with a wave of her hand.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked.

“Not particularly.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t know how to talk about it. He didn’t have the words to explain how one brief touch had bonded him to a woman who was a total stranger. How the fuck was he supposed to explain something like that? Especially when he didn’t understand it himself.

Nora sank down into a nearby chair as he returned to pacing the floor. Silence drifted between them for several long moments until another sound echoed in the hallway. Turning toward the door, Nick recognized the man entering the lounge as the trauma room physician.

“Mr. Barrows?” The doctor crossed the floor to close the distance between them and shook Nick’s hand. “I’m Doctor Bertram. We’ve stabilized Miss Ashton. She suffered second degree burns on her hands where the electrical current entered and exited her body. They’re not life-threatening, but you’ll need to avoid touching her hands when you see her. We’ll continue to monitor her for any other physical reactions to the electrical shock.”

“What else,” Nick demanded as he saw something flicker in the man’s eyes.

“Unfortunately, Miss Ashton has slipped into a coma.”

“A coma?” Fear knotted his gut at the doctor’s resigned expression.

“It happens sometimes in cases such as this. She was resuscitated three times before we managed to stabilize her heart rate.”

“When will she wake up?”

“There’s been a great deal of stress to your fiancée’s system. She’s lucky to be alive, and a coma is often the body’s way of healing itself.”

“You didn’t answer my question. When will Victoria wake up?” He watched the man closely. Searching for something, anything that would tell him Victoria was going to be all right.

“I can’t answer that, Mr. Barrows.” The regret on the doctor’s face sent an icy chill through Nick. Barely meeting his gaze, the doctor cleared his throat. “Her brain activity readings are unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’m not able to determine the level of brain damage.”

“What do you mean, brain damage?” Nick snarled as his insides tightened with dread.

“Her brainwaves appear to be continuously fluctuating between an active and almost vegetative state.” A perplexed frown wrinkled the doctor’s brow. “I’m at a loss to explain it. I’ve called in our best neurologist to see if she has any answers.”

“So, Victoria could easily wake up at any moment.”

“Possibly, but I’ve no idea how extensive the brain damage—”

“I want to see her.” Nick’s demand made the other man nod.

“Of course, but first we need to sew up that gash on your leg and cheek. The cut on your face isn’t too bad…” Dr. Bertram frowned. “But that leg definitely needs attention now. I’m surprised one of the nurses didn’t shuttle you off to one of the trauma bays.”

“It can wait.”

“No, Mr. Barrows, it can’t. When we’ve fixed your wounds, I’ll make sure you see your fiancée.”

“Fine.” Reluctantly, Nick agreed to the doctor’s inflexible command with a sharp nod. “And I’ll need something to sleep on. I intend to stay with her.”

“Is that wise, Nick?” His sister’s brow was creased with worry. “What good does it do if you stay with her?”

“I want to be there when she wakes up.”

“Mr. Barrows, even if she does wake up, it could be days, weeks, even longer before she does so.” The doctor’s protest only reinforced the conviction taking root inside him and growing stronger by the second.

“Have you ever had a medical case surprise you, Dr. Bertram?”

“On occasion, but your fiancée—”

“My fiancée is going to surprise you. Victoria is going to surprise everyone, except me. Now get me sewn up so I can see her.”

Chapter 4

October 1897

Nicholas ushered Vickie out of Goodman Cottage. His wife looked presentable despite the mud-stained gown she wore. He also noted there was a significant amount of blood on the shoulder of her dress. More than one might expect from the size of the cut on her forehead. That fact didn’t just puzzle him, he found it disturbing.

Usually it was easy to see through Vickie’s deceptions, and it irritated him that he’d failed to catch her in an outright lie yet. But that was about to change. Nicholas walked to where Zeus was tethered and quickly mounted the stallion. Pawing the ground, the restless animal danced about as Vickie drew near. Without any visible effort, he brought the animal under control.

“You’ll have to ride pillion, madam.”

He smiled coldly at her as he offered his hand to her. If there was one thing Vickie was afraid of, it was horses. She never rode, and even riding behind him would probably terrify the hell out of her.

“Don’t you have another horse?”

“Another horse?” Nicholas murmured with satisfaction as he waited for Vickie to demand he return home and send a carriage for her.

“Yes. One for me to ride.” Her response was so unexpected all he could do was stare at her in amazement. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation to be at a loss for words where Vickie was concerned.

“Why the devil would I bring a horse for you when you don’t ride?” he snapped as he gestured for her to step forward.

“Because I’ve been riding since I was a kid,” she said with obvious exasperation.

Without blinking an eye, she boldly and fearlessly walked up to Zeus. The stallion turned his head in her directions, and she stroked the bridge of his nose as if it were something she’d done a thousand times before. Stunned, Nicholas remained silent as his wife hitched up her skirts, accepted his hand, and jumped up behind him. The instant his hand touched hers a bolt of electricity vibrated through him. It was the same sensation he’d experienced every time he’d touched her today.

She wiggled into a comfortable position behind him then wrapped her arms about his waist. The heat of her pressing into his back made him go rigid. Christ Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him reacting to her like this. This was Vickie. A woman who enjoyed humiliating him whenever the opportunity presented itself.

With a nudge of his heel, he urged Zeus forward, guiding them into the trees behind the cottage. The trail they followed opened up onto a large green expanse of pasture land sprinkled with patches of melting snow. As they rode out into the sunshine, Vickie rested her forehead on his shoulder. Was she going to be sick again? God help him, she could be pregnant with Darby’s bastard. He wanted to kill her in that brief second. He grimaced. Ironic given so many people thought he’d already done so.

“Are you feeling ill again?” he asked coldly.

“No,” she said. “Your shoulder just makes a good sunshade. I wish I had my sunglasses.”

Tension crept into his muscles at the response. It was a minor complaint, but nowhere in her voice or words was there a hint of the spoiled, petulant woman he was married to. Whatever game she was playing, she was doing so with a skill that surpassed anything Vickie had displayed before. As Zeus reached the top of the knoll overlooking Brentwood Park, she raised her head and gasped.

“Is that Brentwood Park?”

“Yes. It was part of your dowry.” He failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Damnation, he knew better than to let her see she could evoke a response in him.

“That was a wedding present?” she muttered with disbelief.

Once again, her reaction baffled him. A dowry wasn’t a wedding present. It was a business transaction. But the incredulous note in her voice actually sounded genuine. He suppressed a snort of disgust. Vickie had never been sincere about anything in her entire life. Her first and only concern was for herself.

“Which of your friends shall we notify first about your safe return?” he asked coldly.

“Do we have to tell anyone?” Her trepidation ignited a bitter rage inside him.

“Madam, in the past three weeks, I’ve been questioned by the police, accused of murder, and subjected to veiled insults from most of the Marlborough Set,” he snarled. “Considering the rumors surrounding your disappearance, I intend to let everyone know you’re alive and well.”

“Oh Lord, I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize—of course we’ll have to tell people your wife has…that I’ve returned.”

“I’ll send a notice to the Times and Daily Telegraph today,” he bit out fiercely.

“I really am sorry, but the thought of questions…I’ve never really liked being the center of attention.” Her soft comment made him snort with a hefty dose of cynical amusement.

“I don’t recall you ever being reticent when it came to talking about yourself, my dear.”

“Well that must have been boring.”

The dry note of humor in her words shot a bolt of tension through his body. God help him, he could almost believe she wasn’t Vickie. Bitterness quickly crushed his doubts.

“Your exploits have been never boring, my dear. Decadent and depraved perhaps, but never boring.”

Her gasp illustrated the brutality of his statement, and his immediate regret angered him. Damn it. Once again, she’d succeeded in making him feel like a bastard. It was a sensation his wife had never aroused in him before, and he didn’t like it. Silence surrounded them as Zeus carried them with ease across the pastures until they reached the manor’s front door. Tall and cadaverous looking, his butler, Jamieson, hurried down the wide, marble steps to greet them.

“Welcome home, my lord. May we express our delight at her ladyship’s safe return?”

Nicholas smiled grimly at the man. Behind him, Vickie sighed softly. Was there a hint of regret in that sound? No, he knew his wife too well. With a limber movement, he swung his good leg over Zeus’s neck and slid to the ground.

“Thank you, Jamieson. Her ladyship and I appreciate your good wishes.”

Nicholas turned and grasped Vickie by the waist then lowered her to the ground. The intensity of the heat flooding through him as her body slid down his chest sucked a sharp breath from him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Not even before their wedding had he experienced this visceral type of sensation where his wife was concerned.

It was such an intense physical connection with her that it stunned him. Staring into the brilliance of her sapphire eyes, he saw a glimmer of fear. Nicholas frowned at her, and she averted her gaze. Why would she fear him? He mentally shook his head. He was letting her odd behavior get the better of him. Disgusted with his reaction to her, he put some distance between them and turned to his butler.

“Jamieson, the countess has suffered a head injury and is having difficulty with her memory. Please inform the staff she may require assistance remembering where things are.” Not waiting for the butler to reply, he turned back to her. “If you require anything ask for Mrs. Beechum.”

“Thank you.” Her quiet, pleasant reply aroused the devil in him.

“Perhaps I should mention that we have guests coming for the weekend.”

“Guests?” The alarm in her voice amused him. He’d rarely seen Vickie unnerved by anything, but her apprehension was clearly visible.

“Friends of mine. Naturally, if the idea of entertaining is an overwhelming one, I’ll be happy to express your regrets.”

Nicholas couldn’t resist taunting her. The moment Vickie learned Eleanor was in the house, she’d reveal herself, and this ridiculous game she was playing would end. With restrained amusement, he watched uncertainty flit over her features before she narrowed her gaze at him.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re hoping I’ll make a scene?”

“Hoping? My dear, I’ve come to expect tantrums where you’re concerned,” he said with a scornful smile.

The Countess of Guildford was in for an unpleasant surprise. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience at the confused look of alarm sweeping over her features. He crushed the emotion. Vickie had never displayed a care for anyone’s feelings, and he was not about to have her make a mockery of him with this pretense of hers.

“Your wife must be a real bitch to make you hate her so much.”

The quiet words make him jerk with surprise as he tried to convince himself the sympathy on her lovely face was a farce. Speechless, he managed to maintain a stoic expression as she turned and followed Jamieson into the house. He’d fully expected a tirade, not this dignified condemnation of his mockery.

With a shake of his head, he watched her disappear into the manor. Damn if the woman wasn’t acting strangely. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was telling the truth. But then Vickie only told the truth when it suited her. He’d learned that particular lesson all too well the day of their wedding. The memory wasn’t a pleasant one.

His gaze narrowed and focused on the façade of the manor. The return of Brentwood Park to his family’s holdings was a small consolation given the state of his marriage. Nicholas made his way into the house then walked through the library to the hallway leading to his study.

Closing the door behind him, he limped to his desk and sank down into his chair. His leg was throbbing. His boots were damp on the outside, and although the insides were relatively dry, the leather still held the icy temperature of the pond. Vickie would be fortunate if she escaped a bout of pneumonia from her panicked plunge into the pond. Jaw tight with tension, he tried to comprehend what would make Vickie do something so foolish. Her flight had been one of abject terror. Nicholas immediately snorted with disbelief. It had been a brilliant performance by his wife. Nothing more. The throbbing of his leg broke into his train of thought. He grunted at his stupidity for not going upstairs to change first. The cold penetrated its way down to the bone that had never healed properly. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Nicholas reached for pen and paper.

He quickly wrote an announcement for the Times and Daily Telegraph. As Vickie’s parents had died of influenza several months after their wedding, her closest living relative was an aunt, and Nicholas made sure to write the woman as well. With each note he penned, one weight after another lifted from his shoulders. The last letter was to Scotland Yard, and as he signed his name, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Although the police might pay them a visit, he was hopeful they would simply wait until they returned to town in a few weeks. He’d deliberately omitted any reference to Vickie’s claim of amnesia. He wasn’t about to be humiliated by announcing a condition his wife was using to make him the laughingstock of the Marlborough Set.

When they finally returned to London, she would have returned to her usual self, and they would continue as they had for the past two years. Two strangers living under the same roof. Nicholas stood up and pulled the bell cord then returned to his desk to address the notes. He’d just completed sealing the envelopes with a wax seal of the Guildford crest when a knock on the study door announced Jamison’s entrance.

“Jamieson, have one of the stable hands deliver these letters first thing tomorrow morning. I’d send them by telegraph, but I’d preferred they be delivered in person, to ensure they’re not lost in the shuffle. It’s imperative these reach the appropriate individuals as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Jamison hesitated for a moment, and Nicholas eyed the man with curiosity.

“Yes?”

“It’s… I simply want to say that the staff and I are relieved and happy that your lordship’s recent troubles have been resolved.”

“By that you mean the hangman’s noose is no longer a threat,” Nicholas said quietly. He couldn’t deny the relief he’d not dared to feel until this instant. It was a heady sensation, and he struggled not to believe it was a dream.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Thank you, Jamison, and express my thanks to the staff as well.” The butler nodded.

“I’ll see that these letters are sent immediately, my lord.”

Jamieson accepted the letters as the faint clattering sound of carriage wheels on gravel filtered into the study. Jamieson turned quickly with the obvious intent to head toward the front door, but Nicholas forestalled him.

“I’ll greet my guests, Jamison. Those letters are too important to delay sending. Have Albertson and Baker come assist with the baggage.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Nicholas followed the man out of the office and walked to the front door. As he descended the steps to the driveway he saw his friend, Sebastian Redding, Viscount Starling, assisting his wife Anna out of a black carriage he’d arranged to have waiting for his friends at the train station. Sebastian greeted him with a rueful twist of his lips.

“Well, Nicholas, I believe you’ve won our small wager. You told me we wouldn’t make it before three, and you were correct,” Sebastian said with amused resignation. Laughter parted Anna’s lips as she touched her husband’s cheek in a tender gesture.

“You must forgive him, Nicholas. I’m to blame. Sebastian tried to depart earlier, but you both know I’m habitually late, no matter how hard I try to be on time.” The Viscountess Starling moved forward to kiss Nicholas’ check with affection.

“I’m sure he finds it easy to forgive you most anything, Anna.”

“Almost, but not quite,” she said with an impish smile directed at her husband. “I can recall several moments when I feared he would not be so charitable.”

Nicholas suppressed a twinge of envy as he watched Sebastian capture his wife’s hand and raise it to his lips in a loving gesture. Her hand still enclosed in her husband’s, Anna turned back to him.

“The others will be along later. Eleanor had a social engagement she couldn’t put off. Charles stayed behind to serve as her escort. John had an unexpected business meeting until one this afternoon. So I imagine everyone will be here by five, well in time for supper.”

“It’s just as well. I have something I wish to discuss with you both without the others present,” he said. Nicholas gestured toward the house.

With Anna in the lead, the trio climbed the manor’s marble steps and entered the massive foyer. As he did almost every time he crossed the threshold of the manor, Nicholas looked upward. The unusual skylight with its stained glass replica of the Guildford coat of arms illuminated the main foyer. Four generations ago, a Guildford had wagered and lost the manor to one of Vickie’s ancestors in a card game. Although the house had been renamed, the skylight with the Guildford crest had escaped demolishment.

A wide staircase swept up to the second floor in a smooth circle, enhanced by a warm oak banister. Family portraits lined the walls going up the stairs, while a salon and library faced each other across the large foyer. With a small sweep of his hand, he invited his friends to enter the salon. Nicholas closed the double doors behind Anna and Sebastian then crossed the carpet to the sideboard. As his friends seated themselves near the fire, he poured some Madeira and offered it to the couple before taking up a position at the fireplace in the hope the crackling fire would warm his leg and ease its throbbing.

“What is it you wish to discuss with us, Nicholas?” Sebastian asked with curiosity.

“Vickie has returned.” The words resounded like a gunshot in his ears, and Nicholas heard Anna gasp.

“Good God,” Sebastian exclaimed. “Did she say where she’s been?”

“Actually, she claims she’s not Vickie. There’s a rather nasty bruise and cut on her forehead, and she says she has no memory of where she’s been.” Nicholas took a sip of wine then examined the shape of his glass as if it would provide him with an explanation for his wife’s strange behavior.

“But if that’s true, how did she know to come here?” Curiosity filled Anna’s soft question.

“Precisely.” The muscles in Nicholas’ cheek twitched as he fought to hide his anger.

“Forgive me, Nicholas, but does she have the capacity for creating such a complex alibi?” Sebastian offered a look of apology to Nicholas.

“I confess it’s one of her more elaborate stories. But I don’t think she had any help.”

Nicholas felt the same frustration he saw in the other man’s eyes. He knew his friend was thinking about Vickie’s connection to Jack Reardon and the man’s radical politics. The man’s recent propaganda had been enough to have alarmed Sir Kenelm, the Home Secretary. Up until Vickie’s disappearance, he and Sebastian had been quietly monitoring Reardon’s movements at Sir Kenelm’s request.

“The fact that Lord Darby is in Reardon’s pocket isn’t a good thing,” Anna said with a look of concern on her face. “If she is involved, it will make things extremely difficult for you, Nicholas.”

“Christ, Anna.”

Sebastian groaned as Nicholas stared at his friends in amazement. What the hell had the man been thinking to share information with his wife? Anna was trustworthy, but one innocent slip of the tongue to another woman, and the entire Set would know they were watching Reardon, which meant the man would know too.

“I figured it out on my own, Nicholas,” Anna said with a shrug. “Sebastian didn’t tell me anything. I simply told him what I’d deduced or…imagined.”

“In another time, you’d be burned for witchcraft, my love.” Sebastian glared at his wife who smiled serenely back at him, which made his friend’s frown grow more stern. “As it is, your…insights, while valuable to me, are not easily explained to others.”

Although Nicholas had known about Anna’s intuitive ability for some time, this was only the second time he’d witnessed it firsthand. Anna’s unique skill gave Sebastian an advantage that no one else possessed, but it was one that was tricky to manage. Nicholas studied the woman for a moment as he considered her observation. Anna was right. If Vickie was involved in any of Reardon’s plans, as her husband it would put him in a damned awkward position. He quickly rejected the idea and shrugged as he shook his head.

“Vickie might be rather blind to government politics as opposed to society ones, but anarchy? No, she’s vain, thoughtless, and spoiled, but nothing more. I’m certain her only connection to Reardon is Darby.”

“You said she has a bruise on her forehead. The fact that she’s been missing for so long might mean she was attacked and left to die somewhere. Possibly even held prisoner and escaped.”

Sebastian’s theory made sense, but he knew his wife well. If anything, Vickie had fallen and was using her injury in one of her manipulative games. What he wanted to know was where she’d been hiding for three weeks. He shook his head as he rejected his friend’s hypothesis.

“No, I think Vickie simply wants to play an elaborate game to garner sympathy for herself.”

“And what if she’s telling the truth?” Anna’s quietly spoken question caught him by surprise.

Nicholas frowned as he recalled Vickie’s panicked flight from the cottage and her lack of fear with Zeus. The woman he’d married would never have run from him, let alone come close to drowning in an effort to escape. Nor would Vickie have so fearlessly stroked Zeus’ head before mounting the stallion. Even despite this unusual behavior, he found it impossible to believe her lies.

“My wife has a talent for lying, and like all her fabrications, this game will end sooner or later,” he said with a firm shake of his head.

“Perhaps you should reexamine what you do know.” Anna smoothed her skirts in a brisk manner. “The first question to ask is why she disappeared. Sebastian said you hired a private investigator when she went missing. Did they offer up any idea as to why she vanished?”

“No. She left Guildford House at dusk, and her maid said Vickie requested a hack as she was having dinner with friends before the Grenville ball.”

“How odd.” Anna mused in puzzlement.

“What? The hack?” Humiliation made his gut twist as if a knife had stabbed him. “Vickie is fairly discreet when it comes to her romantic liaisons. She’d never do anything to jeopardize her position in society.”

“Oh…I didn’t…I am sorry, Nicholas.” Anna’s face took on a pained expression, and Sebastian leaned forward in his chair to squeeze his wife’s hand.

Nicholas watched the loving exchange with envy. Such intimacy was out of his reach. Like him, Vickie had no desire for children, but he’d hoped for a marriage of mutual respect and affection. He had no one to blame but himself. His jaw clenched as he swallowed the bitter pill of what lust for a woman and his need for Brentwood Park had brought him.

“As I said, Vickie knows how to be discreet, while still finding a way to make me look a fool. Although, her association with Darby would have gone unnoticed if the damned fool hadn’t caused a scene in the Marlborough Club. The Prince was far from pleased with the man’s belligerent behavior.”

“So you really have no idea why she vanished?” Anna probed.

“None. I’ve had plenty of time to consider the possibilities, but nothing seems to fit.”

“Well, either she’s attempting to play you for a fool or she truly has lost her memory.” Anna arched her eyebrows at him. “You could always remind her that as your wife there are certain…duties she must perform. It might help you solve your dilemma.”

“The devil take it, Anna,” his friend growled softly.

Meeting her husband’s disapproving frown with a matter-of-fact expression, Anna didn’t flinch beneath the viscount’s dark scowl. Her gaze turned back to Nicholas, and he chuckled at her pragmatic expression. He could just imagined what Vickie’s response would be to his sudden demand she let him into her bed.

“It’s quite all right Sebastian,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s no secret my marriage is far from idyllic, and Anna’s suggestion is one I’ve already considered.”

The idea that he demand his conjugal rights had been simmering in the back of his mind since Vickie had first started this game. There was little love lost between them, but something deep inside made him reluctant to outline his expectations to her.

Vickie would reject him outright, but if the woman upstairs was telling him the truth, she would reject him as well. It was far from the ideal tactic to use in getting to the heart of the matter. Without warning, his body grew hot at the memory of his wife pressed close to his back as they returned to Brentwood Park.

Desire for his wife. It was a foreign sensation. Lust had always driven him where Vickie was concerned, but today had been different. His reaction to her had been more than just a raw, primal instinct. There had been a connection to her that he couldn’t describe. It was a link he didn’t know how to break, and the thought scared the hell out of him.

§ § §

BUY FOREVER MINE NOW!

or add to GOODREADS

§ § §

Other Titles by Monica Burns

FREE SAMPLER

Try Before you Buy! This sampler contains the first

or more chapters of all of Monica’s books

Decadent Bon Bons

THE RECKLESS ROCKWOODS SERIES

Obsession #1

Dangerous #2

The Highlander’s Woman #3 (Coming 09/15)

SELF-MADE MEN SERIES

His To Command #1 (Novella)

His Mistress #2

His Proposition #3 (Coming 2016)

TIME TRAVEL

Forever Mine

DESERTS, SHEIKHS,

& COURTESANS

Kismet

Mirage

Pleasure Me

HISTORICAL NOVELLAS

A Bluestocking Christmas

Love’s Portrait

Love’s Revenge

ORDER OF THE SICARI

SERIES

Assassin's Honor #1

Assassin's Heart #2

Inferno's Kiss #3

Please Don’t Forget

1. This book is lendable, so loan it to a friend who has an eReader from the same vendor as you. Please note that lending and sharing are two different things. Lending via a vendor does not violate the author’s copyright. Sharing the book by sending the eBook file to another reader does violate author’s copyright.

2. Help other people find this book by writing a review. Even an honest, two-line review has meaning for other readers.

3. Sign up for Monica’s Newsletter, so you can find out about upcoming releases.

4. Like Monica’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMonicaBurns

5. Visit Monica’s website to read one or more chapters of all her books;

6. OR you may also download her FREE sampler DECADENT BON BONS at Amazon, iBooks, BN, Kobo, Smashwords, and ARe Visit her website and select from your choices on the right-hand side of the page.

About Monica

Monica Burns is a bestselling author of spicy historical and paranormal romance. She penned her first romance at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. Her historical book awards include the 2011 RT BookReviews Reviewers Choice Award and the 2012 Gayle Wilson Heart of Excellence Award for Pleasure Me.

She is also the recipient of the prestigious paranormal romance award, the 2011 PRISM Best of the Best award for Assassin’s Heart. From the days when she hid her stories from her sisters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica is a survivor who believes every hero and heroine deserves a HEA (Happily Ever After), especially if she’s writing the story.

CONTACT MONICA

authormonicaburns@gmail.com

SOCIAL MEDIA

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMonicaBurns

Twitter

@MonicaBurns

Instagram

Monicaburnsauthor

Pinterest

MonicaBurns

Visit Monica’s Website for Information on All Her Books

www.monicaburns.com

The Highlander’s Woman

WARNING: Book contains a proud Highlander unwilling to surrender his heart a second time, and a half-Scottish heroine who, like most Rockwoods, is up to the challenge of making her man realize she's The Highlander's Woman.

Julian MacTavish’s honor made him guard a friend’s secret. But his lies to keep that vow make it difficult to prove his faithfulness as a husband. When a terrible inferno scars Patience’s body and mind, she becomes a recluse, widening the divide between them. But it’s her lack of trust, not her disfigurement, which sends Julian home alone to Scotland convinced he’s lost her forever.

Forgiveness in the face of death comes easily to Patience MacTavish, but the thought of being a burden to her husband does not. When a twist of fate takes Julian’s sight from him, Patience returns home hoping to make amends for not having faith in him. Pity is the last thing Julian wants from anyone, especially his wife, and it’s his turn to question her sincerity. Now, Patience must convince her husband that she’s come home for no other reason than love, even if it means arranging a highlander’s seduction.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Special Preview of Forever Mine

Other Titles by Monica Burns

About Monica

The Highlander's Woman Blurb