How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins Page B

her skirts flipped this way and that. “Where are you going?”
     
     “To see my solicitor.”
     
     “At this time of the night?”
     
     “For what I pay him, he can drag his lazy arse from bed.” His expression was hard. “Meanwhile, you may sleep here. At least for tonight.”
     
     Her chest ached as if he’d struck her. “Jack, the feud—”
     
     “Will resolve itself, with our help or without it.” He opened the door. “Sleep well, wife. This will be the only night you enjoy my bed.”
     
     “But you can’t just—”
     
     The door slammed, the sound echoing through the high-ceilinged chamber.
     
     Chapter Five
     
     The MacLean curse is an old one, placed upon the family in the times of Robert the Bruce by the infamous White Witch. She resides in the forest outside of Muir da Og. They say she’s as lovely as a sunrise, and her only pleasure is in eating the hearts of the human men she’s spurned.
     
     OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND
    TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT
     
     Fiona awoke, aware before she opened her eyes that she was not alone.
     
     Stretching, she turned to her side and saw Jack sitting beside the fireplace, the flames casting shadows over his face. His cravat was untied, his coat thrown across a chair, his shirtsleeves rolled back from powerful forearms. He held a glass of amber liquid as he gazed unseeingly into the flickering flames.
     
     Fiona rolled to one elbow and pushed her hair from her eyes. “Well? What did your solicitor say?”
     
     Jack did not even turn to look at her. “You know damn well what he said. It would take an act of Parliament to get the marriage annulled, unless you agreed to say I’d not touched you.” His lips twisted. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
     
     “No.”
     
     He never looked away from the fire. The flames cracked and popped, a faint warmth reaching the bed.
     
     Fiona was glad for the heat. She’d fumed when he’d left, but the cold of the room had made her seek shelter in the huge bed. She’d taken off her pelisse and attempted to untie her boots, but the laces had knotted and her cold fingers had been unable to loosen them. She’d finally climbed between the sheets fully dressed, buried her head in a pillow, and fallen asleep almost immediately.
     
     From his chair, Jack now regarded her stonily, his glass held tightly in one hand, his gaze hard.
     
     She plucked at the heavily hemmed edge of the sheet. “I daresay you’re tired. Perhaps you should sleep—”
     
     He slammed his glass onto the side table, his blazing glare silencing her. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me! I am stuck with this marriage, but I do not have to put up with the mewing of a wife I never wanted!”
     
     Fiona gripped the sheet with both hands. “Very well,” she said in a reasonably steady voice. “I will never again inquire after your well-being. But do not think I will accept poor behavior. We can at least be pleasant to each other until we have the child. After that, I will move back to Scotland.”
     
     “And the child?”
     
     She frowned. “He will stay with me.”
     
     “Fine. So long as you leave me in peace.”
     
     His words should have had no power to wound her, for they were exactly what she expected.
     
     Jack stood and pulled off his untied cravat, tossing it to one side. He paused long enough to refill his glass and take another drink, wavering a bit as he did so.
     
     He was drunk. Fiona’s heart sank a bit lower. He would come to her bed now and do his duty, and she…what would she do? Her body and mind seemed strangely divorced, and she dreaded the coming moments. Dreaded what had once been the most amazing event of her life.
     
     Her memories were deeply colored by their passion, but now it would not be the same. Gone was the concern, the caring. All that was left was anger and distrust.
     
     Jack yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Within