How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins Page A

man who didn’t wish to be. Jaw clenched, he pulled Fiona’s pelisse back into place and smoothed her skirts.
     
     A soft rap sounded on the door.
     
     “Oh, no!” Fiona struggled to get off his lap, but Jack held her there.
     
     “Jack!” she hissed. “Simon will see.”
     
     “Then let him.” He tightened his hold, his expression grim. “You are my wife now. That gives me the right to hold you whenever I wish.”
     
     Fiona had the damnedest effect on him, making him possessive and irritated at the same time. It was yet another reason to end this farce, and quickly.
     
     The carriage door opened, and Simon flushed at seeing Fiona in Jack’s lap.
     
     “The steps,” Jack ordered.
     
     Simon nodded, his gaze directed at the ground. He let down the stairs, then moved aside.
     
     Jack lifted her and stepped out of the carriage, carrying her to the broad steps that rose to the doors of his house.
     
     “Jack!” Fiona hissed. “Put me down. Your servants will see, too.”
     
     “Let them.”
     
     Fiona wished she dared struggle but feared that would only make their entrance appear more ridiculous.
     
     As Jack began to climb the stairs, Fiona looked up at her new home. Five stories of stately mansion rose above her head. Heavy molding around the large windows and doors bespoke a quality and craftsmanship that was obvious even in the dim night. “Good God! It’s massive!”
     
     Jack paused with his foot on the last step. “I do wish you’d keep those comments until we are in bed, love. I would appreciate them all the more there.”
     
     Fiona’s cheeks heated. “Stop that!”
     
     Jack’s wicked grin flashed as he stepped onto the portico. The huge doors opened as if by magic.
     
     Within moments, they were inside, the doors closing. Fiona had a hurried impression of black and red marble flagstone, rich carpets, and the glitter of a huge chandelier presiding over a foyer elaborate in gilt-edged side tables and large, golden framed mirrors.
     
     Jack walked briskly past a stiff individual who could only be the butler and a stern, gray-haired woman whose keys proclaimed her the housekeeper. The shadowy figures of at least a dozen footmen blurred in the background.
     
     “My lord,” the butler said as Jack walked past. “We didn’t know you were returning. There is no fire lit in your chamber. Shall I—”
     
     “No,” Jack said, taking the stairs two at a time. “That is not necessary.” He paused at the top, his gaze insolently caressing Fiona. “Please bring a large breakfast in the morning. Avery large breakfast.”
     
     Fiona had thought she couldn’t get more embarrassed, but she was wrong. Her entire body flushed. How dare he do such a thing in front of the servants?
     
     He is angry. I knew he would be.She just hadn’t expected he’d be so bitter.
     
     Jack carried Fiona down a long hallway, his footsteps muffled by thick red carpet.
     
     Fiona put her irritation behind her. Tomorrow, she’d have Jack introduce her to the servants properly, and all would be set to rights. For now, she wanted to stop thinking. To stop feeling. She yearned for the delight of losing herself in a large featherbed and fresh sheets.
     
     He opened a large door and carried her inside a huge chamber to a bed that towered at the center of one wall. He paused at the edge of the mattress and looked down at her, his expression inscrutable.
     
     Fiona’s breath shortened. She was agonizingly aware of the bed beneath her, of Jack’s arms around her. This was it; the moment he’d take his rights as her husband. Her body tingled, her breath shortened.
     
     Jack lifted her a bit higher and then, without ceremony, tossed her onto the bed.
     
     Fiona bounced, gasping as she tried to find some purchase in the sea of covers and pillows. “Jack!”
     
     He was already crossing the room to the open door.
     
     She scrambled to her knees, her hair falling about her,