How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

one corner of the leather curtain and glanced briefly out into the racing darkness. “We’re entering London. It’s almost two in the morning.” He settled back in his corner, his leg moving against hers once more. “I like traveling fast.”
     
     She glanced to her other side. It would be cold to lean all the way into the corner, for the night air was seeping from every seam. She supposed she would have to accept his leg against hers. At least there was a good deal of clothing between them—her chemise, petticoats, gown, and cloak. Jack was wearing breeches and…She looked at his legs. What else? Could he be naked beneath his breeches? They seemed molded to him, outlining the powerful lines of his thighs and the swell just above—
     
     Oh, God. She closed her eyes. She’d been looking at his—Not only was it rude, but it had sent an amazing tingle through her, almost as if she’d touched it.
     
     “Fiona, if you ever look at me like that again, I will not be held responsible for what I do.” Jack was so close that she could feel his breath on her temple. “Do you understand?”
     
     Fiona managed a jerky nod, relieved when he moved back.
     
     Jack from a distance she could deal with. Jack in the close carriage, his thigh a mere inch from hers…the memories were too bright, too raw. She’d been young and impetuous, and fortunate that nothing more had come of their brief liaison than some uncomfortably vivid memories.
     
     She cleared her throat. “I was just rememberingus. ”
     
     “I think of us, too.”
     
     She blinked at him. “I didn’t think you would.”
     
     He sent her a darkly amused glance. “No? How could I not? You were my first.”
     
     “That’s impossible. You already had a mistress! Alexander said she wasn’t your first one, either.”
     
     “So I have your brother to thank for that slip of the tongue, eh? Remind me to thank him properly when I see him.”
     
     “I would have found out anyway.”
     
     Jack didn’t argue. “Yes, but you were special; my first virgin.”
     
     Embarrassment flooded through her, and she fixed her gaze on the tips of her half boots where they peeped out from beneath her skirts. If only she were something as simple as a slipper that did not have feelings or memories or anything else so uncomfortable.
     
     She frowned a bit. Shoes really did lead the perfect life. They were polished and taken care of and not expected to do anything more painful than occasionally step in a bit of mud or a rare puddle. She’d wager her shoes never wished they could just disappear.
     
     Fiona looked at her hands, the hem of her pelisse, the seat opposite, anywhere but at him. “My goodness, it is certainly warmer here than in the countryside, isn’t it?”
     
     “Yes.” He stretched out his legs so that his thigh pressed even more firmly against hers. “It is much warmer.”
     
     She snuck a look at him. When had his eyes grown so hard, so intense? Though he did not scowl, his entire stance still spoke of an undercurrent of bitter anger. Some part of her had hoped that he’d accept the circumstances of their marriage and not struggle against fate. That had been a vain hope.
     
     She sighed. “When will we arrive?”
     
     “Soon. We stopped to change horses in Barnet, so they’re fairly fresh.”
     
     “Barnet? I don’t remember changing horses there.”
     
     “We stopped while you were sleeping. I told your man—”
     
     “He has a name,” she said shortly. “It would be more polite if you’d use that rather than calling him ‘your man.’”
     
     Jack’s brows lowered. “You aren’t one of those reformer women, are you?”
     
     “The only thing I wish to reform is your poor manners.”
     
     Jack looked incredulous. “My what?”
     
     “Your poor manners. I daresay you don’t know the names of any of your own staff, do you?”
     
     “I haven’t the time for such nonsense. There are dozens of