Highlander Undone by Connie Brockway

Author:Connie Brockway [Brockway, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 1503945480
Google: OVM-rgEACAAJ
Amazon: B00U88YMLW
Goodreads: 25110086
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Paul Sherville strode past the footman into his newly purchased townhouse and snatched up the riding crop he’d left lying on the hall table. He thumped it against his thigh as he stalked to the library, barking out orders for scotch to be brought immediately.

Captain John Frances Cameron.

He’d thought there was something familiar about the whipcord lean figure when they’d been introduced in that artist’s lair. But before he could pursue the sense of recognition, he’d allowed himself to be distracted by the man’s offensive overtures. He saw now that it had all been a clever diversion, a ruse to keep him from looking too closely at him. And it had worked.

Still, he couldn’t judge himself too harshly. One of the only times he’d seen Cameron, the man had weighed a full stone more than he did now. The Captain Cameron he’d glimpsed in the Sudan had been a vigorous, ramrod-straight officer tanned the very color of the beastly dune he’d been straddling, his expression keen, hawk-like.

He’d been bearded then too, a full bronze-colored beard. But his eyes were the same. Yes. He should have recognized Cameron from those damned arctic-colored eyes of his.

With a snarl, Sherville slashed the riding crop at the papers on his desk, sending them flying, and flung himself down into an expensive leather tufted armchair.

It was damned lucky that baby-faced lieutenant had been at The Gold Braid Club the evening before. Even luckier that he’d received Holmes this afternoon at his club. He’d nearly had the doorman send the upstart off with a flea in his ear.

As soon as he’d been told that Cameron was asking after him, he’d pieced together the enigma of Jack Cameron. He’d given Holmes instructions to report to him should Cameron go nosing about again.

Sherville’s scowl deepened as a light rap on the door broke his concentration. “Come in, damn you!”

The butler entered, balancing a crystal decanter and a cut-glass tumbler on a silver tray. He deposited the tray on the black lacquered table by Sherville’s side.

“Shall I pour, sir?”

“I can pour my own liquor.”

With the wooden impassiveness he was paid far too well to maintain, the butler started picking up the papers from the thick Turkish rug.

“Leave it, you fool. Do you think I want to watch your scrawny ass crawling about? Get out!”

With a murmured apology, the butler backed out of the room. Sherville snatched up the decanter, splashing scotch into a glass.

He needed to think. He was a realist—a practical, hard-nosed man. Those qualities had been responsible for lifting him—the youngest son of an impoverished minister—to this address, to this sumptuously furnished library and this luxuriously fashioned life. He must use those qualities now to protect these things he treasured. No one was going to take from him what he’d worked so hard to acquire.

He tossed half the whiskey down and stared moodily into the remainder of the amber liquid. He needed to decide who constituted the greater threat: Jack Cameron or Addie Hoodless.

He knew Jack Cameron by reputation.

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