The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(8)

She shuddered and thrust all thoughts of that bastard from her mind.

Or at least she tried.

It still hurt to think of him. Of what he’d done to her.

Though she hadn’t minded at the time. Kirk’s kisses, caresses, and whispers of love had warmed her young heart and given her dreams of a future with him.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be lying. That he might be playing with her, the na?ve English lass who didn’t have the sense God gave a goose. She’d fallen into his arms like the fool she was. She’d fallen for him.

He hadn’t only taken her innocence and broken her heart, he’d mocked her for being so stupid.

Oh, how she hated him.

Her chest ached with it.

She’d been able to bury the pain over the years, but she’d never really recovered from the blow to her ego. Her shattered heart was still in pieces. She’d been able to keep the memories at bay, but now, with them here, it all came rushing back in a black tide.

She vowed to avoid them, though even that wouldn’t help. She would still know they were here and— “Ahem.”

Anne whirled around and froze. Hell. There he was, the baron, standing by the window, watching her. How could she not have seen him? How could she not have smelled him, that filthy, dusty creature?

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Lady Anne. I was looking for a book.”

She forced a smile and held out her arms. “This is the place.”

“I, ah, doona know if you’re aware, but you were muttering to yourself,” he said with a smile that was so sincere and smug, it speared her.

She couldn’t help but bristle at his mocking tone. Above all things, she abhorred being mocked. “I most certainly was not.”

His grin widened and dimples appeared on his cheeks above the scruff of his beard. “Aye. You were. But I’ll not hold it against you.” He winked then, that hideous beast.

Anne’s eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up. She knew better than to show any emotion to a man like this, but she couldn’t help herself. He was too attractive by far . . . and he knew it. He made her hackles rise. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am,” she said in a tone as dry as dust.

His laugh irked her. Though she was poised to quit the room, instead she glared at him and snapped, “I fail to see what is so funny.”

“You, for one thing. You could at least pretend to be welcoming. I thought that was the British way. Grin and bear it and all that. Are you so displeased that the duke dinna come?”

“I couldn’t give a fig about the duke.”

“Ah. So it is his minions you resent.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. Fury and frustration and annoyance swamped her soul. “We do not need you.”

He grinned again and shrugged. “I doona doubt that for a moment.”

Driven by vexation, she stepped toward him. “We do not want you here either.”

“Again, quite obvious. But the duchess had other ideas.” Again, with that warm and friendly smile. He could, at the very least, have the decency to respond to her animosity in kind.

“I . . . The duchess?”

“Aye. The Duchess of Caithness. Lana Sinclair.”

Anne blinked. “What does she have to do with anything?”

He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them, but Anne did not back away. She was far too curious now. “Her Grace is the one who convinced the duke that if he couldna attend your season, someone should come in his stead.”

Anne snorted. She absolutely ignored the fact that this Scottish baron had hazel irises circled with black that somehow made them mesmerizing. “And what would your presence here accomplish, exactly?”

He chuckled and his breath gusted over her face. His scent made her body warm. Naturally, she turned away.

“Her Grace wanted you, and the entire world, to know that the duke fully supports his cousins.”

“Nonsense. He lent us this house and paid for everything.”

“Some would say that is but a token.”

Anne whirled around, her mouth agape. The season was costing thousands. “Hardly a token.”

“It is. To a man of his means. But he wanted to do more. He truly wanted to come, truly wanted to meet you all, which I hope can happen in time. You see, Lachlan never had family and . . .”

Anne stepped toward him again. She had no idea why. “And . . . what?”

“I know it sounds odd, for a duke, but he’s been lonely. He’s always wanted a family and never thought it possible. At any rate, he was thrilled to discover your connection and wanted to be here for you.”

“But Her Grace is increasing.”

“Indeed. He canna expose Lana to the rigors of travel and he willna leave her.”

A Scotsman who would not leave his woman. What an incongruous concept. “But he sent you in his place. Expected you to leave your family . . .”

Bower smiled again and his eyes took on a twinkle, one that made Anne catch her breath. “Catriona was pleased to see me leave.”

Something pricked at her heart. She refused to think it was jealousy. Yes, he was a handsome and charming man—he was even charming her from a foul mood—of course he would have a wife. Anne crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed. “She is so devoted a wife?”