Page 1 of The Highlander’s Unexpected Wife

Chapter One

Inverness 1804

Cameron Hunter cursed the lack of privacy in Lord Deighton’s garden. When he’d suggested the rendezvous to his informant, he’d assumed there would be plenty of seclusion. Most gardens on an estate this size were filled with hidden spots ready-made for couples to engage in mischief. Open lawn and short hedges like those before him afforded no privacy.

At half past two in the morning, the ball in the mansion behind him continued in full riot. Music drifted on the breeze, chattering voices the accompaniment. A late spring chill hung in the evening air. He could only hope that the lateness of the hour and the less-than-desirable weather discouraged guests from venturing outside. Ladies generally preferred warm male bodies to cold groping in the dark.

Cameron glanced heavenward. Heavy clouds obscured the stars. At least the weather favored him. He strode away from the light that spilled onto the balcony, deeper into the shadows. He slowed on the rocky path and strained his ears for sounds of footsteps. A breeze rustled the rose and juniper bushes. The sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms perfumed the air. No doubt, the only damned tree silhouetted in the rear of this garden. He squinted into the darkness for signs of his contact.

A woman’s scream pierced the night. Cameron yanked his gaze left. Another scream. He cursed, then bolted in the direction of the terrified cry. He rounded the bushes and caught sight of a small figure lying in a heap up ahead on the path. An instant later, he reached her. She shifted, a crumpled ball of lace, taffeta and tulle that crinkled. She pushed onto her knees and tipped her head up toward him, but he couldn’t discern her features.

“My lady.”

“Lord Weston.”

Cameron silently cursed. He knew that voice and would prefer any damsel in distress to this one. The heavenly bodies might have favored him, but all other good fortune had deserted him. He should turn and run as fast and as far from this woman as he could. Miss Erin Lennox’s distress was, most likely, that of her own making. She shifted and meager moonlight lit one creamy shoulder and a thick tumble of hair that had escaped the once neat chignon.

He would wager that she had exposed the supple flesh above the taffeta of her bodice to the wrong man. Cameron had shared a dance with her, then made his excuses. Miss Erin Lennox hunted a husband.

“Come along, Miss Lennox.” He grasped her arms and assisted her to her feet. Damn. The exposed shoulder wasn’t a flash of her womanly wiles. The fabric was torn.

“Miss Lennox, what happened?”

A quiet sob softened his heart. No man should accost a woman, even a foolish woman who agreed to meet with him alone in the gardens.

“It is dangerous to meet a gentleman alone even in a small garden like this one,” he murmured.

“The ballroom was so stuffy. I…I only meant to take some fresh air,” she said. “I didn’t mean to stray far, but the gardens are so small. I never expected to encounter a stranger who...” She clutched her bodice.

Had a stranger ripped her bodice? Or…

“A stranger?” he repeated. “Perhaps, you intended to meet a particular man?”

“I beg your pardon,” she said in a haughty voice that told him that no real harm had come to her. “I am a lady, sir. I have never seen him before. He grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I…I am so grateful to you.” She lowered her head. “You weren’t by chance looking for me?”

“Ah, no. I am afraid not.” In fact, the opportunity for his appointed assignation had passed. He could only hope his informant would agree to another rendezvous.

She sighed. “Either way, I am in your debt. You saved me.”

“Make no mention of it.”

“I shudder to think what would have happened had you not come along. I know I’m safe with you.”

“The danger has passed. Your dress is torn. You cannot return to the party.” He glanced past the cherry tree. Faint streetlight in the righthand corner of the garden illuminated what might be a stone wall. Thankfully, the mansion was located at the juncture of an alley and street. “If luck is with us, there will be a rear entrance.” Though he had little faith in luck tonight—good luck, at any rate. He cupped her elbow and began walking toward the wall. “I assume your father’s carriage is nearby?”

She stumbled. Cameron tightened his grip on her elbow. She broke free and threw herself into his arms. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. By God, the chit was throwing herself at him, literally.

Cameron grasped her shoulders and set her at arm’s length. “Beware, Miss Lennox, it would be a shame to avoid scandal as a result of your encounter with that stranger only to be ruined by our innocent meeting.” This time, he kept a tight hold on her arm as he led her toward the wall.

“My father is not at the party,” she said. “I attended with a friend and her family. I can’t possibly let them see me like this.” Rising panic tinged her voice. “Perhaps we could leave in your carriage?”

The last thing he intended to do was to put her in his carriage.

“I am sure you can rely on your friend’s discretion.”

They reached the wall and Cameron discerned the outline of a narrow, wrought iron gate to their right. He hurried her to the exit. To his relief, only a heavy bolt locked the gate. He slid the bolt aside, then opened the gate and led her into the alley.

“You are too kind to help me in this unfortunate situation,” she said.