Highland Bachelor 02 - This Laird of Mine Read Free Page B

reckless spirit, but was he also mad to live in such a place?
    She stepped fully into the room and searched for her missing “husband.” When he was nowhere in sight, she released a pent-up breath. What would he say when he saw her? Would he challenge her outright or play along with her game? Was he absent now in order to build her anxiety? Or worse, would he send her away immediately without even giving her a chance to explain?
    The truth was they were married. He had signed the marriage documents himself. The paperwork was official, the marriage was real, binding, forever.
    For a girl who had lost everything early in life, she finally had something of her own—a real husband. She would take his name, and as a result she would be afforded more independence and be accepted in society’s highest circles. Yet that was all she would keep from this marriage. She would have no protection from him, no financial support when she left him behind.
    Claire shook off the dark thought and looked about the room. Faded and tattered curtains were pulled back, allowing filtered sunlight to illuminate the chamber. At odds with the stark interior of Kildare Manor was the fresh scent of lemons and rosemary. The room was free of dust, and the floors were, although bare and aged, polished to a shine. The furnishings were as sparse as in the foyer with only three chairs and a settee, and a small table in the middle of them all, bearing a three-armed candelabra with only one candle.
    Kildare Manor was nothing like what she had imagined. Would the man who owned it be as well? Would she have to adjust her plans? Because suddenly, making this notorious man fall in love with her seemed harder than she had expected.
    “Greetings, my dearest friends,” an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway behind her.
    Claire stiffened, forced her chin up, and slowly turned around. Conversation moved around her as the newly dubbed laird of Kildare Manor greeted his friends. Claire saw their smiles and heard the joy in their voices as they reunited until all sound faded, and all she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat as it filled her ears. She waited. She watched. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and hoped no one else noticed the fact that he would wait to greet his “wife” last.
    But those moments with his friends gave her time to appraise him. She wasn’t sure what she expected, never having seen even a portrait of him, but it wasn’t the handsome man before her. His wavy blond hair fell to the collar of his coat. He was much taller than she expected, and his body, though relaxed, still hinted at lithe power. His jaw was strong and defined, his cheekbones high, and he had a slight cleft in his chin. Her gaze drifted to his lips—lips that were full and expressive and made for kissing. The thought warmed her cheeks as she met his startling blue eyes.
    Those eyes narrowed on her. “My dear, sweet wife.” His voice was rough-smooth with the hint of a Scottish burr. His gaze shuttered as he came toward her. Only a slight curl to his upper lip indicated his current disposition. He was angry, but he would not reveal that to his friends. Only to her.
    The air between them all but crackled as he took a final step closer to her. He leaned toward her, slid his arm about her waist, and pulled her forward, caging her against his body.
    Her nerves flicked and her fantasy of him wrapping her in his arms and accepting her without question shattered about her feet. This close to him, the scent of soap and mint filled her senses. She could feel the tension thrumming through his body, see the challenge in his eyes.
    “Jules.” She didn’t press back or retreat. She held her body erect and tried to force a look of nonchalance into her gaze. He studied her eyes, her lips. Against her will her lips parted.
    “Oh, how I have missed you,” he said. His voice lowered to a gravelly purr as his gaze fixed on her mouth.
    “I’ve missed you, as well, my dearest