My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

so that Daphne might gain theone thing she had always wanted, but perhaps her tolerance forDaphne’s methods was bolstered, if only a wee bit.

In a way, that insight into Daphne’smotivations made Hero feel almost sorry for her. Daphne would neverget what she wanted from Ian. Once she knew in no uncertain termsthat Ian had no intention to marry her, Daphne would beheartbroken. Well, perhaps not literally so, since she didn’t seemto have developed a tendre for Ian. Daphne might desire himphysically, as her brother had implied, which was understandable,for Ian was an exceptionally handsome man, but she did not lovehim. Hero was certain of that.

Daphne loved his title, wealth, and power andhunted those much as Hero had been pursued as a debutante. Heroknew how that felt well enough and she knew she wouldn’t be able totolerate watching that pursuit much longer. Thankfully, shewouldn’t have to. Soon she and Ian would announce their engagementand Daphne could return home knowing that she had done all shecould to gain the title she so desired.

But in the end, Daphne would simply have todream new dreams.

Hero glanced up at the clock once again andsaw that it was nearing midnight. Was all Hero to have of him thatnight more of the same? Nothing but dreams? The time of theirplanned rendezvous. Hours without word from him, and she wonderedif she should begin to worry. Or at least consciously admit thatshe already was.

Where was he?

Chapter Twenty-Six

The creak of a loose floorboard woke Ianinstantly from a restless sleep but before he could react, a clothwas slapped over his mouth and nose by a brutally strong hand andIan took a quick intake of breath in surprise. And exhaled quickly.After years on the battlefields in Crimea, Ian recognized thesweet, pungent scent instantly. Chloroform.

Bloody hell.

Holding his breath, he grasped the wrist ofhis attacker and pulled with all his strength. His assailant wasnot expecting a response, it seemed. His hand lifted an inch beforehe realized what Ian was about. A split second Ian might have hadto take a breath, but the cloth remained over his mouth. Using hissuperior leverage, the assailant forced Ian back down, but Ianwasn’t a weak man by any means and all those years at war hadproven him a survivor.

Wrapping his hands around the man’s wrist,Ian used his own weight to roll to the side, dragging the attackerwith him in an attempt to break his hold. Despite holding hisbreath, Ian could already feel his skin tingling in reaction to thechloroform’s fumes. Though his assailant fought against the motion,Ian pushed against the bed with all his strength until he was ableto roll over the side. His unsupported weight pulled his attackerwith him to the floor. The cloth was lost and Ian dragged in a deepbreath.

Shaking his head to clear the fog that hadbeen building, Ian stumbled to his feet, ready to fight, but theman was there with the cloth ready again, trying to cover his mouthonce more. Ian was no longer in an indefensible position, however.Jabbing his elbow back, he caught the assailant’s midsection andwas rewarded with a grunt as the man took a step back, leaving Ianable to turn and ready to fight.

But though they seemed well matched in size,the man was apparently disinclined to compete with a fullycognizant opponent or perhaps a completely nude one. He turned,running for the door. Ian was on him immediately, hitting himbehind the knees. Falling to the floor on top of him, Ian pinnedhim down with a knee in his back and hissed into the near darknessas he twisted the man’s arm behind his back: “Who sent you? What doyou want?”

“Just finishin’ me job, mate,” came thehoarse answer, but it could not mask the Cockney accent of aLondoner. “Weren’t expectin’ ye to fight back.”

“What were you expecting?” Ian growled,pulling his arm higher. “Knock me out and what then?”

“If the chloroform didn’t do ye in, it waso’er the balcony wi’ ye,” the would-be assailant revealed withunanticipated honesty, then added with a shrug, “Nothin’ personal,guv’nor, a job’s a job.”

“I appreciate your candor,” Ian bit outsarcastically. “While you’re being so forthcoming, might I have thename of your employer?”

“No name, jus’ another swell w’ five quid toomany.” The man struggled beneath Ian, rocking from side to side inan attempt to knock Ian off of him.

Ian drove his knee deeper into his back.“What did he look like?”

“No matter to ye,” the Cockney Londoner said.“Weren’t ‘im that wanted ye to ‘op the twig. ‘E was just sent outto ‘ire.”

Ian growled low in his throat as frustrationbuilt. He had spent all night securing the grounds, scouring theouter walls for breach points, before setting his grooms, huntsmen,and gardeners to stand watch. Every lock had been checked. Everyfirearm, knife, and lamp locked away in the armory—all of Cuileansecured to ensure that another incident didn’t take place. Toensure that Hero remained unharmed.

Time had gotten away from him. Ian had beenso focused on his task that he’d even forgotten his rendezvous withHero. Perhaps with the accident that afternoon, she had as well. Atone in the morning, he’d arrived at the pagoda to find it empty andhad returned to the castle to collapse on his bed with utterfatigue. Only to be awakened an hour later by this intruder.

After all of his efforts, how had this mangotten into the castle? Ian wanted answers. He wanted to know whowas behind this, and was prepared to do whatever damage wasnecessary to persuade the man to reveal what he knew. “I don’tbelieve you.”

“Aye, well …” The assailant buckedunexpectedly and rolled, catching Ian in the groin with his kneebefore he scrambled to his feet with a grin. “Ye should ha’ woreyer jim-jams, guv’nor, and ye wouldna been left flapping in thewind.”

Ignoring the pain in his groin, Ian leapt upwith murder in his eyes, and with wide-eyed comprehension, the manturned to run, but Ian was on him again within seconds. Again hetackled him to the ground and together they slid across the hallfloor and into the iron rails of the staircase balustrade. Thistime