My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📗

“Aye, Papa, he is.”

“Harry,” the duke insisted with a frown,prompting Hero to frown right back at him.

“Come, Papa, let’s get up now. IfBoyle comes in, he will think us mad.” Hero pushed herself into asitting position, arranging her skirts as she did so, but herfather and Ian remained lounging.

“One might think to be thought mad the veryworst of fates,” Beaumont told her solemnly. “But this is notmadness.”

“Is it not?”

“No, call it a finer appreciation for life. Aman lives his life thinking he has all the time in the world to dothe things he dreams of doing. That there will a come a moment whenhe might explore the world as he always wished to, spend anafternoon fishing on a lake, or merely watch a sunset holding thehand of the woman he loves. One always thinks about whatmust be done rather than what should be done. I’vespent my entire life doing what was expected of me, only todiscover that I have lost the opportunity for so much more.”

Ian and Hero exchanged astonished glances atBeaumont’s surprisingly lucid speech. Hero couldn’t think of amoment in the past several years when her father had offered anywords so profound. She wondered if his words about holding the handof the woman he loved were merely an analogy or if he truly feltthat he hadn’t appreciated his time with Hero’s mother well enough.It was sad to think that he held so many regrets—if his words weremore truth than rambling.

Would she die having regretted the things shedid not do more than those she did, Hero wondered? She didn’t wantto. The day Death finally came looking for her, she wanted to beable to meet his eye knowing that she had grasped everyopportunity, every moment that made life worth living.

Staring into Ian’s dark, turbulent gaze as heraised himself to sit, Hero could see that he had come to the sameconclusion. Life might be short. One never knew how much time theymight have to live.

Or to love.

Ian reached out to caress her cheek, and Heroturned into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. She meant toembrace every moment she had before her with Ian, meant to takewhatever fate would allow her.

Unaware of the tumult his words had spawned,Beaumont lazed back once more to stare at the ceiling. “I wonderwhat’s for dinner.”

Hero smiled widely, a gesture Ian returned ashe stood and helped her to her feet. She would have to embracemoments like these with her father as well. Her time with him wasvaluable as well, and she was only just discovering how much shemight learn from him.

“Your father is a very clever man,” Ianwhispered, raising her hands to his lips and kissing each palmtenderly.

“Yes, he is.”

Chapter Fourteen

The next few days were like heaven on earthfor Hero. In the mornings, Hero would walk Ian through some aspectof the estate’s business, explaining everything she knew. Theytoured the brewhouse, gashouse, and, finally, the icehouse on oneparticularly hot afternoon. After luncheon, they would engage inoutdoor activities, making the most of the unusually warm and sunnyweather. Often in the company of her father, they would ridethrough the park or up north of the castle to the home farm. Herotook him to the orchard and showed him the gothic orangery.

Sometimes they walked about the grounds armin arm. Through the family cemetery or along the ancient viaduct.It didn’t matter to Hero. She simply enjoyed being in Ian’scompany, showing him all the things she loved about Cuilean, andseeing a similar love for the estate growing in him.

Ian even took her out on the pond in a littlerowboat one afternoon, rowing steadily across the length of thecalm waters. Away from her father and out of sight, he teased andflirted with her. Always, he would find a moment to steal a kiss,though her father inevitably interrupted those magical moments.Rather than being annoyed, Ian had begun to view it as something ofa challenge to find private moments with her, and Hero was happy toassist as she could.

Through her single London Season, Hero hadnever been wooed romantically. Any man who might have beeninterested in her in such a way either hadn’t been granted herfather’s permission or hadn’t the nerve to approach a duke’sdaughter. Her beaux had courted her father, had earned his respectand permission. Robert had bargained for her hand without ever onceplacing a kiss on it.

The idea of being seduced for her personalone was a novel one, and having a man like Ian become her seducerwas thrilling. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, and his eyesburned with desire that even she could recognize. Hero shared hisfascination. She couldn’t seem to help reaching out to him. Feelinghis warm skin beneath her fingertips. Feeling his fingers curlaround hers. With each caress her heart would race and her spiritsballoon.

She was falling for him, Hero knew. It wasridiculously fast but impossible to stop. Ian at least liked her aswell, she was certain. He seemed to enjoy her humor and their moreintellectual conversation. Already they had desire and liking andperhaps they would share even more than that as time went on.

Perhaps that was why Hero had begun to lookforward to the evenings as a favored part of her day. After thethree of them dined and perhaps played cards, her father wouldretire to his rooms, leaving her alone, blissfully alone, with Ian.In his husky brogue, he would softly invite her to walk with him onthe ramparts. Aware of the curious eyes of the staff on them, Herowould calmly agree and take his arm until they reached the narrowpassage. Hero would walk ahead of him then, counting to the sixthindentation in the wall, where she had sat after dinner that firstnight. And just as it had then, her heart would be pounding inanticipation.

After maintaining a certain distancethroughout the day, after hours of polite conversation, betweenthose two battle-worn walls was the privacy that no room in thecastle could provide. There was a shelter away from prying eyes,the beauty of the moon on