How To Abduct A Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins

Author:Karen Hawkins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Romance, Fiction
ISBN: 9781416525035
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2007-01-29T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I’ve oft heard it said that men and women speak different languages, but ’tis not true. They speak the same language, they just hear it with different ears.

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND

TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT

Hours later, Fiona awoke, blinking sleepily in the semidarkness. The silence caught her, and she knew as she reached beside her that the bed was empty. Jack was gone.

Disappointment washed over her. What was her husband doing right now? Was he playing cards?

Perchance he’d gone home with a friend? Maybe afemale friend?

Fiona’s jaw tightened, and she threw back the covers. She could not just lie there and wonder; she would find out for herself. She had two feet and two willing legs. Wherever he could go, she could go.

She’d warned him, and now she’d show him she meant it.

She marched to her wardrobe and found one of her new gowns, a beautiful green silk with a décolletage far lower than anything she’d ever owned. Jack had been insistent on purchasing it, declaring he’d been delighted to see her wear it. She hoped he’d think so when she walked into one of his precious gaming hells. It was probably tame, compared to what the other women would be wearing, but it was pretty and a little racy.

Racy. Yes, that’s what she’d be. Racy and seductive and dangerous. Just like the women who frequented Jack’s gaming hells.

“Blast him!” she said aloud.

It felt good, saying that. So she said it again. “Blast him, blast him, blast him!”

She dressed, pulling on stockings and then slippers to complement the gown. Then she crossed to the dresser and quickly put her hair to rights. She would not sit tamely by while Jack made a mockery of their marriage. She was through with waiting.

But how would she find him? She paused a moment. Perhaps there were certain places he frequented.

The servants would know; they knew everything.

Yes, that was a good plan. Fiona stood back from the mirror, then tugged her neckline down to a more precarious level. Oh, yes, that would do. That would do very well. She looked stylish and determined, a powerful combination.

“Jack Kincaid, you had best have a care,” she announced. “You have raised the ire of a MacLean.

Woe betide you now.”

Outside, there was a distant rumble of thunder. If she didn’t wish to get wet in her own downpour and ruin her entrance, she had to maintain her calm. She didn’t want to get angry; she wanted to get even.

That required finesse.

With one last glimpse in the mirror, she turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Devonsgate blinked. “I—I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“I said I am going out.” Fiona took her cloak from the hovering footman.

“Yes, my lady. I heard that. I just didn’t—I mean, I wasn’t certain—I mean, I shall—” The butler paused, then took a deep breath. “What I mean is, where shall I tell his lordship you are going, if he should ask?”

Fiona fastened her cloak about her neck.

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