A Highlander's Heart: A Sexy Regency Romance (Highland Knights Book 1) by Jennifer Haymore
Authors: Jennifer Haymore
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burning in her eyes. And something deeper than desire…
Perhaps she wasn’t unreachable. Perhaps love for him still stirred within her. Even after—
He cut off that thought. As he always did.
His nod was brusque. “Very well. You may stay.”
“Thank you.” She grinned and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then sent Grace and the maid off, promising to call for them if they were needed tomorrow. Rob joined his men at the steps to the town house’s front landing. He wasn’t sure what he’d find inside, but all the lights were on, and when they trudged up to the door, it seemed to open magically.
A man stood at the threshold, his cool, impassive eyes looking them over. They paused on Claire for a moment, then moved on. “Major Sir Robert Campbell?” he asked.
Rob stepped forward. “I am.”
The man bowed. “I am Bailey, sir. At your service.” He stepped aside. “Come in, please.”
They filed inside. The place was beautifully furnished—a crystal chandelier glowed over the entry hall, illuminating mahogany tables covered by Greek artifacts.
This display of wealth and elegance no longer awed Rob, but it was surprising that a troop of injured and battle-weary Gordon Highlanders would be welcomed to London in such a style.
He glanced at Stirling, who was stone-faced, then looked at Mackenzie and Fraser, who’d probably never seen this kind of luxury. Their expressions were carefully blank, which was part of the reason he had chosen them. Both men were quick-witted but thoughtful. They took charge of their men with a confidence rarely found among their ranks.
Why would they be given quarters such as these? Uneasiness stirred within Rob, but he nodded at the pair of footmen who arrived to carry their luggage, then followed as Bailey showed them to their separate bedchambers, each one elegantly appointed. Rob’s room was saved for last.
Bailey opened the door to a bedchamber on the second story at the back of the town house. “Here are the master’s quarters, sir.” His gaze flicked to Claire. “I apologize, my lady, but we weren’t expecting you, and there are no separate quarters for the mistress.”
She gave him a serene smile. How she could look so bonny and fresh after two and a half rough days of travel, Rob would never comprehend. “We will make do, Bailey. Thank you.”
He bowed. “Will you require anything else, Sir Robert?”
Rob blinked, unaccustomed to being addressed by any title but “major.” But he was back in London now, where his status as a baronet, a random title granted for a single deed, overshadowed his status as a major in Wellington’s army—a position and title he’d spent years working for and had dedicated his life to.
Had chosen over his wife’s happiness.
Guilt stabbed at him, but he thrust it away. She was here with him now, by her own choice, and his.
“No, that will be all. Thank you.”
Bailey slipped away, and Claire and Rob glanced at each other. They hadn’t slept in an actual bed in a few days, and this one was large, plush, and welcoming. Someone had turned down the covers, and the sheets were crisp and clean.
Rob blew out a breath. “I havena seen a bed that bonny in a year.”
She frowned at him. “What about my father’s house? You don’t find our bed bonny there?”
“Oh, aye. That’s the bed I was speaking of.”
“Ten months, then,” she reminded him. “Not quite a year. You last slept in that bed ten months ago.”
“Aye…”
“Ten months, one week, and four days,” she said, “to be exact.”
His throat went dry. She hadn’t forgotten him completely, as he’d thought she had. She’d counted the days since they’d last slept in the same bed.
God. Had he been that stupid? That blind? He’d taken her words as raw facts: She hated him. She never wanted to see him again. He was a cold, unfeeling bastard.
She’d turned away to the basin of water on a long, dark table, and he watched her as she first removed
Perhaps she wasn’t unreachable. Perhaps love for him still stirred within her. Even after—
He cut off that thought. As he always did.
His nod was brusque. “Very well. You may stay.”
“Thank you.” She grinned and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then sent Grace and the maid off, promising to call for them if they were needed tomorrow. Rob joined his men at the steps to the town house’s front landing. He wasn’t sure what he’d find inside, but all the lights were on, and when they trudged up to the door, it seemed to open magically.
A man stood at the threshold, his cool, impassive eyes looking them over. They paused on Claire for a moment, then moved on. “Major Sir Robert Campbell?” he asked.
Rob stepped forward. “I am.”
The man bowed. “I am Bailey, sir. At your service.” He stepped aside. “Come in, please.”
They filed inside. The place was beautifully furnished—a crystal chandelier glowed over the entry hall, illuminating mahogany tables covered by Greek artifacts.
This display of wealth and elegance no longer awed Rob, but it was surprising that a troop of injured and battle-weary Gordon Highlanders would be welcomed to London in such a style.
He glanced at Stirling, who was stone-faced, then looked at Mackenzie and Fraser, who’d probably never seen this kind of luxury. Their expressions were carefully blank, which was part of the reason he had chosen them. Both men were quick-witted but thoughtful. They took charge of their men with a confidence rarely found among their ranks.
Why would they be given quarters such as these? Uneasiness stirred within Rob, but he nodded at the pair of footmen who arrived to carry their luggage, then followed as Bailey showed them to their separate bedchambers, each one elegantly appointed. Rob’s room was saved for last.
Bailey opened the door to a bedchamber on the second story at the back of the town house. “Here are the master’s quarters, sir.” His gaze flicked to Claire. “I apologize, my lady, but we weren’t expecting you, and there are no separate quarters for the mistress.”
She gave him a serene smile. How she could look so bonny and fresh after two and a half rough days of travel, Rob would never comprehend. “We will make do, Bailey. Thank you.”
He bowed. “Will you require anything else, Sir Robert?”
Rob blinked, unaccustomed to being addressed by any title but “major.” But he was back in London now, where his status as a baronet, a random title granted for a single deed, overshadowed his status as a major in Wellington’s army—a position and title he’d spent years working for and had dedicated his life to.
Had chosen over his wife’s happiness.
Guilt stabbed at him, but he thrust it away. She was here with him now, by her own choice, and his.
“No, that will be all. Thank you.”
Bailey slipped away, and Claire and Rob glanced at each other. They hadn’t slept in an actual bed in a few days, and this one was large, plush, and welcoming. Someone had turned down the covers, and the sheets were crisp and clean.
Rob blew out a breath. “I havena seen a bed that bonny in a year.”
She frowned at him. “What about my father’s house? You don’t find our bed bonny there?”
“Oh, aye. That’s the bed I was speaking of.”
“Ten months, then,” she reminded him. “Not quite a year. You last slept in that bed ten months ago.”
“Aye…”
“Ten months, one week, and four days,” she said, “to be exact.”
His throat went dry. She hadn’t forgotten him completely, as he’d thought she had. She’d counted the days since they’d last slept in the same bed.
God. Had he been that stupid? That blind? He’d taken her words as raw facts: She hated him. She never wanted to see him again. He was a cold, unfeeling bastard.
She’d turned away to the basin of water on a long, dark table, and he watched her as she first removed
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