How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins Page B

lady could have been persuaded to ride to the anvil, I might have been more insistent.”
     
     The thought burned through Jack, though he knew better than to show his anger. “I will tell my lovely wife you said so. I am certain it will amuse her no end.”
     
     Campbell took a step forward, then caught himself, forcing out a laugh. “I am certain she will. Of course, she has not had time yet to realize what aprize she has gained in her husband, has she? She will learn soon enough.” Campbell’s gaze narrowed. “Has she met the lovely Lucinda? Or are you saving that surprise for a later date?”
     
     “Campbell!” Lucinda said, her color high. “That is quite enough.”
     
     Jack was suddenly tired of it. He used to think innuendo and flirtation the spice of life; now it all seemed insipid and tiring.
     
     He turned to Lucinda. “I believe I’ll join the faro table. There is an open seat.” He bowed to her, then nodded to Campbell. “Good evening.”
     
     For the next few hours, he played without cease, tossing back glass after glass of brandy. Lucinda watched him from the other side of the room, but he didn’t care. They were finished.
     
     Campbell was a more visible irritant. He joined the table next to Jack’s, talking behind his hand to the gentlemen on his right and left, glancing frequently at Jack.
     
     The details of Jack’s marriage would be all over town tomorrow, damn it, along with the story of Fiona’s “abilities.” While no one would believe it, they would unconsciously be on the lookout for signs.
     
     What a bloody mess. If he kept Fiona in seclusion, the rumors would only grow. The only answer was to present her to society quickly, and make her known. Which meant he would have to attend all the boring, bland affairs he studiously avoided.
     
     Damn it all. He was just beginning to realize how much his lifehad changed.
     
      
     
     The bright sunlight awakened Fiona, and she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Ah, yes. She was in London. With Jack.
     
     But the bed was empty. She sat up uncertainly and looked at the clock. Nine o’clock. And no Jack.
     
     Blast him. She threw aside the cover and scooted to the edge of the bed. The movement tickled her aching muscles, reminding her of how heavenly making love with him had been.
     
     She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow to herself. Heavenly.
     
     Now she had to face the other realities of her marriage, namely her absent husband.
     
     “This will not do,” Fiona announced. “I did not come to London to sleep by myself.”
     
     She slid from the bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick rug. Her clothes lay on the floor, a puddle of muslin and silks topped with her boots. She scrunched her nose; if she put her gown back on, it would be a wrinkled mess. Still, she had little choice. She gathered her clothes and went to the washbasin on a stand in the corner. She washed as well as she could and dressed, then put up her hair.
     
     She crossed to the door and flung it open, then stood, listening, trying to discern where she might find some breakfast.
     
     She could hear the rumble of carriages outside, the shout of a coachman, dogs barking, vendors shouting their wares—all the normal street noises of a city. She also caught the faint murmur of voices inside and came out onto the landing, smoothing her gown as best she could.
     
     She had just taken the first step down when a plump lady dressed in the neat gray and white of a housekeeper came into the foyer below. Fiona recognized her from the night before and said, “Good morning.”
     
     The woman stopped dead in her tracks, her face instantly folding into disapproval.
     
     Fiona paused. She had done nothing to merit such a look. It was almost as if the woman—
     
     Realization dawned. Jack hadn’t introduced her to the servants when they’d arrived last night; he’d carried her into the house and straight