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

feelit against her cheeks. Bile climbed in her throat as she clung toKris for support, but still Mikah wasn’t certain she had thestrength to do it. The cold winter wind numbed her cheeks and nosebefore Mikah reached the sixth indentation and stopped.

She couldn’t believe that she had braved awalk out on the ramparts overlooking the Firth of Clyde, but it wasthe last thing she needed to do to put it all behind her. Now,other than the pagoda where Hero and Ian had wed, she had revisitedall the places that held the dearest memories. Remembered themfinally without regret and only a touch of sadness. When she lefttomorrow, Mikah was certain she would be able to put the past whereit belonged.

Still, there were memories specific to thisonce-favorite spot she couldn’t defend against. She rememberedIan’s arms around her, keeping the chill away. She remembered himsoftly chuckling in her ear, remembered him nuzzling the back ofher neck.

With a sigh, Mikah leaned against the wall,then sprang back and tested its strength before she leaned againstit once more. The wall had been repaired, of course. No sign ofCamron Kennedy’s duplicity remained, but that wasn’t enough tocircumvent the worst memory she had of Cuilean. Remembering thosefinal moments, Mikah morbidly wondered if the bodies had ever beenrecovered. If that glorious tomb held nothing but memories.

“You hanging in there?” Kris asked.

Mikah winced at the words that coincided soclosely to the memory, and told him about those final moments. Kriswinced as well. “Ouch, sorry about that. So this is it, then?” heasked, looking over the edge as he pulled his wool coat tightlyaround him. “Aren’t you cold?”

She shrugged. “They loved it out here.”

“What were you like?”

“It wasn’t me, remember? It was her.” Her newmantra.

“Six of these and a half dozen of the other,”he countered. “Was she as sassy as you are?”

“No,” Mikah said decisively. But they werealike in so many ways, Mikah knew. Humor. Interests. Their love ofart and family. Mikah looked over the edge of the wall warily. Atleast now she knew where her fear of falling had come from. Shelaughed reluctantly. “Maybe she had the potential to be, but shewas a lady to the bone. Very well mannered.”

“Maybe it was all a dream.”

Mikah rocked into him playfully but couldn’tsummon up a smile. Turning, she sat in the nook of the wall,unconsciously propping her elbow on the top in a familiar pose.“Why don’t you go flirt with that auctioneer’s good-lookingassistant? I know you want to. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you out here alone,”Kris said doubtfully. “They do have great accents over here,though, don’t they?”

“Yes, they …” Mikah stopped suddenly as ashiver of awareness prickled her skin.

“Mikes, what is it?”

She turned her head to look back down theramparts, and Kris’s eyes followed.

Everything she did was so recognizable toJace. The way she moved, the way she held herself. The way her headfell back when she laughed. Any of it might have been purecoincidence. Mere imagination. But somehow with the way Mikahdropped down into that niche so casually, Jace simply knew. Even ifshe did not. “Hero,” he whispered with painful longing.

He saw her entire body stiffen, as if shecould hear his words even from this distance, but Jace knew thatwould be impossible. Then she looked up and her wide eyes met hisdown the length of the ramparts. For a split second he read theanguish in her eyes …

Before she leapt up and ran down theramparts, her footsteps echoing between the walls. Not toward him,as Jace might have hoped. She ran in the opposite direction.

Away from him.

Jace started to follow but her companion heldup a hand with a shake of his head and then he, too, was gone.“Mikes! Stop!”

With his injured leg and need for a cane,Jace had no choice but to stay. The cold winds ruffled his hair andbit at his cheeks but Jace ignored it all, focusing on just onethought.

She had recognized him.

Somewhere within that woman, his Hero stilllived.

Chapter Forty-Three

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

December 31, 2012

Nietzsche’s philosophy had fallen in Jace’sestimation over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t madness. Platohad been right after all. It was a disease. A torment. One to whichhe had no cure.

When he had found out that Mikah Bauer hadfled Cuilean that night on the ramparts, Jace had determined to lether go. He had driven away from Cuilean determined to put the pastbehind him and move forward with his life as well. To healcompletely from his injuries and return to his duties in the army,though his mother was begging him to remain in Scotland and resumehis duties as earl and as the head of their family’s investmentfirm.

Clearly Mikah had run from him because shefeared the damage he could do to her life. How he might upset therelationship with her young man, as Smith had said. Jace shook hishead. The man hadn’t seemed puzzled by his identity at all.Obviously, he knew what had happened and had accepted it.

If she did not want him in her life, who washe to say otherwise?

Who was he to force unwanted memories onher?

So he had returned to his own estate atBallantrae, and all the items he had won at the auction, includingthe portrait of Hero, had been put into the attics. But it had onlytaken a pair of days for his resolve to waver, and the next day theportrait was hanging in his rooms. His determination to date otherwomen quickly was discarded in favor of familiar nights incontemplation of Hero’s fair features.

That was when Jace knew he truly haddescended into madness. Nights such as those might have conjuredHero to him once before, but it wasn’t going to happen again. Hewas nothing but a fool for refusing to put the past behind him andmove on.

If love truly was a disease, he didn’t want acure. He wanted the fever to rage.

He knew that was the reason he hadn’t givenin. Because the possibility of more was still there. It lingered inhis mind, gnawing persistently.

Taking her business