Highland Heat by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online Page A

like to see it someday,” she said after a long moment. Then she added, “With you.”
    He held her gaze, and something passed between them, some sweet communication the likes of which he’d never had with anyone. They understood each other.
    “Do you go home to Scotland often?”
    “Oh, nay. I havena been home in two years.”
    “Do you miss it?”
    “Every day.”
    “Tell me about your home.”
    He grinned. “ ’Tis a wild place.”
    “How’s that?”
    “You’re from London, aye?”
    “Well, I split my time between London and Kent, where my father’s country house is located.”
    “London is a god-awful mass of people—ye’ll never be seeing that in the Highlands. Even if you gathered the entire population, it’d still be a fraction of what you might see on a single London street.”
    “I imagine it’s quite peaceful, then.”
    “Aye, it is that. And quiet. From our farmhouse, you could walk for miles in any direction and never see another soul.”
    She smiled. “I like peace and quiet. Sometimes I lock myself into my room just for a while so I can imagine there’s no one else about.”
    Duncan nodded.
    “It hasn’t been very peaceful here—quite the opposite,” she observed, watching a cart loaded with supplies lumber past. “Yet I imagine this is usually quite a quiet little village.”
    “I imagine it is.”
    “If it were more peaceful, then it would be easier to find a bit of privacy to…” Her voice trailed off and Duncan raised his brows.
    “To what?” he asked, his voice husky.
    She shrugged and looked away. “To be alone.”
    “Would you like to be alone with me again, lass?” The quiet words were meant for her ears alone.
    “Very much.”
    He loved how straightforward she was. She wasn’t a coy flirt; she was completely honest, and it made him so hot for her, he burned. He had never been interested in the games so many women played, and it seemed like Grace wasn’t, either.
    “I’d like that, too,” he said. “Ye’ve no idea how much.”
    They relaxed into conversation after that, Grace leaning casually at the doorframe. Although Duncan’s gaze was drawn to her with a magnetic attraction, he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her for long. He constantly scanned the street, looking for any sign of trouble or any cause for concern.
    He found none. Even if he was missing something, there were a score of friendly soldiers within a few yards at any given time. Still, he remained vigilant. He’d never let harm come to two helpless women and his injured major.
    They spoke of the places he’d been and the things he’d seen since joining the army seven years ago. Africa, Spain, Greece, Portugal…
    “Ye’ve heard what Major Campbell did in Spain, aye?”
    Her brow furrowed. “What did he do?”
    “He saved Wellington’s life.”
    “Oh yes…it was the talk of London for a few months.” She smiled. “My sister was in raptures, because once he was given the baronetcy, my father finally agreed to their marriage.”
    “Did ye ever hear what happened? What
really
happened?”
    “No, I don’t believe I have. Only the gossip around Town.”
    “The 92nd was protecting a bridge, ensuring the enemy didn’t cross. We’d been taking cannon fire all afternoon. Eventually, the enemy fell back and we on the left flank had a bit of a lull, but we were told to hold our positions—the bridge was of utmost importance.”
    Duncan loved the expression of intense focus on her face. She was no vapid society miss. She was present in their conversations—in each and every one they’d had so far.
    “Wellington and several men from his staff had come to view firsthand the strategic importance of the bridge, ye ken? I was near to where the major was, on the bank of the river, just beneath the stones where the bridge started. Our division had been sent down to see if any of the enemy might be lurking about.”
    “Were there?”
    Duncan shook his head. “Nay. But from there, ye