My Highland Lord (Highland Lords, #2)

Kiernan stepped back. “You both know my fiancé, Miss Wallington?”


“Indeed.” Lady Dawney’s gaze fastened onto Phoebe. “The instant we spied you in this private spot, we knew you could be speaking with none other than Miss Wallington.” Lady Dawney gave her husband a knowing look. “Remember, Horace, what it was like being so young and in love?”

Lord Dawney cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

“Yes, indeed,” Lady Dawney added unabashedly. She leaned forward and whispered in a confidential voice. “You needn’t concern yourselves that we misunderstand the time you two spent together in Scotland.”

Phoebe gave a tiny gasp and Kiernan repressed a groan.

Lady Dawney giggled. “We understand the magic of love on the young heart.” She gazed up lovingly at her husband. “Lord Dawney and I were involved in just such a scandal before we married.”

“Lydia,” Lord Dawney admonished.

“Quite all right,” Kiernan said. “May I ask what is the commérage?”

“It is said you whisked Miss Wallington off to your father’s castle in Scotland.” Lady Dawney’s eyes turned dreamy. “Quite romantic.”

Kiernan chuckled. “An interesting interpretation.” He grasped Phoebe’s hand.

Lady Dawney’s gaze focused on the action.

“When Miss Wallington came to my father’s home in Scotland, she wasn't alone.” Kiernan lifted her hand to his lips. Phoebe tensed and her expression darkened, but she didn't resist. “That was my misfortune.” Her look turned murderous. He gave her a small wink and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, then looked at Lady Dawney. “You know how these things get started, one grain of truth and a mountain of gossip.”

“Indeed,” Lady Dawney agreed. “Things do get out of hand.”

“The truth,” Kiernan said in a sorrowful voice, “is far less romantic.” He looked down at Phoebe. “Though, I am fortunate that my father facilitated the marriage arrangements for me.” Kiernan gave her a roguish wink. “Had he not done so, I would have been forced to take matters into my own hands.”

“You have taken quite enough into your own hands,” said his father from the doorway.

Phoebe started and Kiernan gave her hand a squeeze.

“Father, you know Lord and Lady Dawney.”

“Horace.” The duke nodded.

“Your Grace.” Lord Dawney gave another of his stiff bows.

“Lady Dawney,” the duke said.

“Your Grace,” she said in a titter, and curtsied.

“Kiernan,” he said, “you have had Phoebe to yourself long enough. Her uncle is anxious to see her.”

“Kiernan looked down at Phoebe. “So I told her.”

*****

Phoebe didn't move when Kiernan grasped her elbow and started toward the ballroom.

He looked down at her. “What's wrong?”

“I…” She glanced at the duke. How was she to face him?

“Father,” Kiernan said, “Phoebe and I need a moment.”

Annoyance flickered in the duke’s eyes and Phoebe feared he would deny the request, then he turned to Lord and Lady Dawney.

“Shall we?” He held out an arm for Lady Dawney.

“Oh, well,” she fluttered, then slipped her plump hand into the crook of his arm. “You're too kind, Your Grace.”

“Don't be long,” he called as he led the pair back into the ballroom.

They disappeared into the ballroom and Phoebe whirled on Kiernan. “Lord Ashlund—”

“Shhh.” With a sideways glance at the ballroom, he grasped her hand and guided her across the balcony and down the stairs to the gardens.

The light from the ballroom receded. She glanced back at the open door. “Lord Ashlund, perhaps we ought to stop here.”

He ignored her and continued across the lawn.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

They passed the bushes and, a moment later, entered the darker shadows of the arboretum.

“By heavens, slow down or I’m liable to—" The toe of her slipper hit a small branch and she stumbled.

Kiernan pulled her upright, then swung her around to face him. “How long are you going to be pigheaded?”

Phoebe felt her eyes widen, and she fell silent for an embarrassingly long moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

He released her. “Well, that’s a start.”

Anger lanced through her. “Don't blame me for balking at the idea of marrying a stranger. Or do you think I should count my blessings that the groom is a marquess?”

“Damnation, Phoebe, I never said that.”

“Have you considered what this is like for me?” she demanded.

He hesitated. “I thought I had.” He stared at her, though she couldn't discern his expression in the shadows. “How is it for you?”

Phoebe stilled, completely unprepared for this response. “Damn you,” she muttered.

“What’s that you say?”

“You would have to ask me straight out,” she said.

“Phoebe,” he began with obvious frustration.

“I have no wish to marry anyone,” she blurted. “Yet I'm being forced to marry a complete stranger.”

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