What the Hart Wants - Fiona Davenport Page 0,36

birth to him. As for his father, he was the epitome of evil.”

“You seem to know a lot about the Molineuxs.”

She looked away. “They’re notorious,” she said. “Their history is a lesson to society. The very worst of men.”

“And is there no evil to be found among your own sex?” he asked.

“There are plenty of examples. The Honorable Sarah Francis is one of the most unpleasant creatures I’ve had the misfortune to meet.”

“But her father seems to love her,” Fraser said.

“He indulges her,” she replied. “But indulgence isn’t love, and neither is showering a daughter, wife, or mistress, with gowns, trinkets, and money. It’s merely a form of bribery to absolve oneself from having to show affection or love. I’d rather be loved any day.”

“And that you shall be,” he said. He took her hand, and she curled her fingers round his. Her skin was cool and smooth.

Her breath caught, and she bit her lip and tilted her face to his.

“So, Miss Hart,” he said. “Did you speak the truth earlier?”

She lifted her eyebrows in question.

“When you said you were willing to try anything,” he continued. “Is it now time to begin your education in the pleasures the world can give you?”

“You make it sound unsavory.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “I refer to the pleasure bestowed on us by Mother Nature. The clear air of the Highlands, the soft heather, the majestic mountains. A land rugged and wild.”

“I’m ready,” she whispered. He lowered his head until their mouths almost met. She parted her lips, and her breath, warm and sweet, caressed his mouth. He lifted his hand and caressed her neck. He only needed to move a little closer, and he could claim her.

“Miss Hart!” A voice called out from within the house, and she pulled away.

“I must go,” she said. “Until we next meet.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Until then.”

Chapter Thirteen

The carriage rocked sideways, and Lilah woke up. She yawned and stretched. Beside her, Sarah slept comfortably, but the man sitting opposite watched her, a thoughtful expression in his clear blue eyes.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“About an hour. We’re almost there—take a look.”

Lilah lowered the window and was met by a rush of cool air. The landscape was a vibrant green, which turned purplish toward the horizon, where a mountain stretched toward the sky. Slopes, dotted with trees, grew higher with jagged snow-topped peaks, which glistened in the sunlight.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It’s my home.”

His words resonated with love. Almost as soon as they’d left London, his transformation had begun. Fraser was quite different compared to the brash Scotsman she’d sparred with on their first encounter.

The mail coach had been full when it left London, but by the time they reached the Scottish border, the other passengers had disembarked. At each inn they’d stopped at during their journey, he acted the perfect gentleman, only touching Lilah to help her in and out of the carriage. Though he’d observed propriety, she was disappointed.

Now they were in his private carriage, which had been waiting for them at Edinburgh. He’d grown even more distant as if the intimacy of his own coach had heightened the barrier of respectability.

What had happened to his promise that he would teach her pleasure?

Perhaps he’d taken Dexter’s warning seriously. As Lilah’s brother had waved them off at the Saracen’s Head in Holborn, he asked Sarah whether she’d packed her mistress’s butter knife, then pointedly asked the ostler how easy it might be to geld a stallion with it.

“The mountain looks very high,” Lilah said.

“It is,” he replied, “but not insurmountable.”

“Have you climbed it?”

“Aye, but it’s a strenuous walk. There’s a drover’s road to the pass, just there.” He pointed toward a dip in the mountain. “From then on, one must tackle the rocks to reach the summit.”

“Will you take me there?”

A lazy smile crept across his face. “If I had my way, I would take ye anywhere, lass.”

Her blood warmed at the wicked sensations his words elicited. She glanced toward Sarah, but her maid slept on. Not even the motion of the carriage over the bumps in the road roused her.

“You will see my home soon,” he said. “Once we’ve passed the forest, the road begins to rise. Glendarron Castle is at the top.”

Almost as soon as he spoke, the carriage entered a forest. Lilah leaned out of the window and looked up. The sun peeked through the trees in specks of light, which flickered as the carriage raced on.

“Are you sure I