Page 25 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

He drew a deep breath. “Nay, love, I do not toy with you. It was an honest mistake.” There was some truth to that. “What wife can fault a husband for likening her to the goddess of love?”

Guilt stabbed deep. She could and would fault him if she knew the truth, but he wouldn’t hurt her with the truth. He couldn’t prevent a silent, morbid laugh. His sense of chivalry knew no bounds. As if reading his mind, she broke her gaze from his and stared out of the window.

He hesitated, then turned his attention to the countryside visible from his side of the carriage. What had so captured his attention about the woman last night that he was willing to jeopardize the harmony he craved in his home? He had shared passion with other women far more skilled than Aphrodite. The way she moved between angel and devil drew him like a moth to the flame. But why? Damn it. He didn’t know why, but he had to find out.

Taran glanced at his wife. She still stared out of the window. He wouldn’t again confuse her with the phantasm he’d touched last night.

Chapter Ten

Caroline pulled her cloak more tightly around her and, elbows tucked to her sides to keep her dress from falling from her shoulders, offered her hand to Taran. He lightly gripped her fingers as she stepped from the carriage. She glanced at the sun setting against milky white clouds that hung over the trees in the horizon. The beauty tugged at her mind, but her heart found no solace in the picture.

Taran slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and led her up the walkway of the inn. “A room should await us. I made arrangements a week ago knowing we would have to return right away.” She swung her gaze onto his face and he added, “I sent word immediately to your uncle informing him of my plans.”

“Informing me would have been more appropriate.”

Taran angled his head in acknowledgment. “I will not make that mistake again.”

A tall man appeared in the doorway. “My lord.”

“Adam,” Taran said, then looked at her. “Caroline, may I present the proprietor, Mr.

Adam Main. Adam, my wife, Viscountess Blackhall.”

Adam gave a low bow. “My lady. Welcome to the Cross Keys Inn.”

“The Cross Keys Inn?” she blurted. “The home to the Society of the Caledonian Hunt?”

Mr. Main shot Taran an inquiring look, then said to her, “You know of the society?”

“I do. My father was a friend of Colonel Thornton’s.”

Mr. Main’s eyes lit. “Colonel Thornton, aye, he is well known to us.” “My father was Ross Wilmont,” Caroline said.

“Ross Wilmont,” he burst out. “He rode Sir Laurence in the race of ninety-five. He had the race in his pocket—we all knew it—when he—” Mr. Main broke off, a horrified look on his face.

Memory sliced through Caroline like a dull knife, but she smiled gently. “When he was thrown from Sir Laurence and broke his neck, Queen Sheba beat him by a nose.” That was an exaggeration, Caroline knew, but not by much. Her father had been riding the most treacherous part of the track when Sir Laurence had thrown him, but everyone said he had such a wide lead, Queen Sheba hadn’t a chance to overtake him.

Mr. Main’s gaze swung onto Taran.

Taran grasped her arm. “Caroline, I had no idea.”

She shifted her gaze to him and startled at sight of his ashen face. “Do not fret. How could you have known?”

His expression darkened. “Why did Etherton not tell me?” Before she could reply, he said, “We will ride on. I know of another inn.”

“Nonsense.” She returned her attention to Mr. Main. “Sir, my father loved racing.”

“That he did, my lady.”

“May we come in?” She nodded towards the door, which he still blocked.

He stepped aside. “Forgive me.”

“Caroline.” Taran’s grip on her arm tightened.

She looked up at him. “My father promised to bring me to the Cross Keys Inn.” She glanced at Mr. Main. “When racing was out of season, of course.” She smiled, and his expression relaxed. She looked back at Taran. “I always regretted not seeing the place he so loved.” Taran hesitated and she placed a hand on the fingers that grasped her arm. “He died three years ago. The grief is past.”

His grip loosened and she entered the foyer, careful to keep her elbows still tucked around the sides of her dress.