Heavenly?
Shoving her daft and dreamy imaginings aside, she focused on what was important—her instincts told her sharing a bed with him wouldn't be as dreadful a task as sharing one with Stanbury. Guilt sliced through her at the thought of breaking her sacred marriage vows, but Stanbury had broken them numerous times, she was certain. He made it no secret that he had a mistress. As far as she was concerned, his threat on her life destroyed any vows between them.
After she'd waited an immeasurable time, her palms growing sweatier and her stomach more pained with each moment that passed, the man stood, slapped his friend on the shoulder and meandered toward the stairs… and her. Was he drunk? If so, that might work perfectly. 'Haps he wouldn't even remember her in the morn.
When his compelling, midnight gaze landed on her, she froze and her mouth went dry. What should she say to him?
He gave a slight bow. "Good evening, fair and bonny lass," his deep voice purred. He flashed her a roguish grin, then faced the stairs again.
Say something, Calla!
When he clasped his hand onto the newel post, she placed her hand upon his.
Chapter One
Perthshire, Scotland, August 1619
"Look, Calla.'Tisone of those barbaric Highlanders," Lady Elena whispered in shock, halting beneath the overhang just outside the dressmaker's shop inDraughonVillage. Calla glanced across the muddy street. The Highlander in question, wearing a belted plaid kilt, strode from theBreakstaneInn, his bare muscular calves showing above his boots. He had several weapons strapped upon his body, including a basket-hilt broadsword, a long dagger, and pistols tucked into his belt.
He possessed a fine, athletic form, and his long hair, near dark as midnight, brushed his broad shoulders. He hoisted himself onto a tall, sleek black stallion, while his manservant held the bridle of the spirited animal.
"A wealthy Highlander," Calla murmured. Aye, only a rich man could afford such an impressive warhorse. When the man faced their direction, her breath stopped. His devilish, deep brown eyes and handsome face had haunted her dreams and fantasies for six long years.
"Saints," she hissed.'Twashim.
"He is a frightening sight, is he not?" Elena clutched Calla's arm.
Calla tugged her cloak's cowl more firmly over her head, hoping to conceal her face. At all costs, that man could not see her. She knew him, but not his name.
Forcing herself to look away, Calla composed herself for her younger cousin's sake. "LairdDraughonwears a kilt most of the time. And, as we know, he is not frightening."
"Aye, but…" She pointed. "With all those weapons, that one looks like he's going to war."
Calla dared another glance at him. "Fear not, cousin. He's leaving now."
Riding the horse as if one with it, the dark-haired Highlander galloped away from the village, his servant following on a smaller nag while he led a pack horse.
Watching until he disappeared around the bend, Calla released the breath she'd been holding and hoped to never see that man again, no matter how wickedly attractive he was. He could ruin her life… what hadn't already been destroyed by her late husband, James Ferguson, the Earl of Stanbury, who'd gambled away every penny.
They bypassed two of the guards the Earl of Barclay had sent to watch over his daughter, Elena, in the village.
"I hate this place. There is naught here but peasants," Elena said, casting a disgusted glance around the village. "The dressmaker was sorely lacking in fine fabrics."
"The fabric you chose was a good quality." Calla had to find a way to divert Elena's attention until she could meet with the messenger she'd hired. It had been a task making certain she could be in the village on the right day at the right time. "We should eat at the inn," Calla suggested.
"In truth?" Elena wrinkled her nose. "They're expecting us back atDraughonfor the noon meal."
"'Tisalmost two; I'm thinking they've already eaten. Are you not hungry?" Calla's nervous stomach ached too much for her to have an appetite, but she thought 'twouldhelp her get away from Elena and the others for a few minutes.
"Oh, very well," Elena muttered. "I hope the cook can make something passable."
The three lady's maids followed them to the inn.
Once they were seated at a table and the solicitous proprietor had taken their orders for lamb stew, bread, and ale, Calla leapt up from the bench. "Blast!"
"What is it?" Elena's blue eyes widened.
"I've left my best gloves at the shop. I'll go fetch them."
