Page 6 of The Highlander’s Unexpected Wife

“Do not concern yourself with the details. Just slip in through the rear entrance of Welbourne and be in his bedchamber at the appointed hour. I shall do the rest.” He stood and crossed to his humidor, which sat on a sideboard near the bookshelves.

“Why is it so important I marry Viscount Weston? There are other men of influence and means.” Men who would not make her feel as desirable as an asp around the neck.

“Do not concern yourself with the reasons,” he snapped. “Do as I say.”

She squared her shoulders. “Believe me father, I too want to be married.” Whether to Lord Weston or another, so long as she could finally escape her father.

***

Alison pulled her hood closer against the night chill as she hurried up the walkway toward Lord Weston’s home. Nearly at the door, she slowed and cast a glance back at the darkened street. As expected, her walk from her carriage, parked two blocks over, had been quiet and she had noticed no one peering from windows. If anyone had seen her, they would mistake her for a maid on her way home after an afternoon off. Alison turned right and crept around the side of the house. According to the note she’d found in her cousin’s room, the pantry door at the rear would be open.

Thankfully, Alison had taken supper at Erin’s home and found the note on her sitting room desk. Foolish girl. Erin was too enamored, too full of fairytale romance, to see Cameron Hunter for the devil he was.

“Damn you, Cameron Hunter,” she muttered. “I will have your head for this.”

She reached the door and took the two steps up. Carefully, she turned the knob and opened the door a slit. The door hinge creaked. Alison winced and stilled. Silence emanated from the darkened kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief, then slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She had to ascend to the third floor where the viscount’s private chambers were located.

A tremor rippled through her stomach. Alison had wracked her brain to try to remember whether the earl had left for Edinburgh or if they were here in Inverness, but to no avail. She didn’t heed local gossip—a fact she now regretted. Alison shuddered at the thought of the Earl catching her sneaking into his house.

As directed in the note, Alison took the servants’ stairs to the right and climbed to the third floor. She crept to the first door on the right and halted. If she entered the wrong room... This was ridiculous. The viscount knew his own house. There was no mistake. Still, the situation bothered her beyond the obvious moral implications. She’d never once heard of him bringing a dalliance into his father’s house. Then again, she didn’t keep up on all the gossip—and, no matter what he’d done in the past, he had invited Erin, a virgin of only eighteen years, into his home. Into his bedchambers, no less.

Her fury fired anew. She would cut off his bollocks.

Alison turned the knob slowly and peeked inside the room. Candlelight cast a soft glow across the carpet. She slipped inside and eased the door shut. When the latch clicked into place, she winced and held her breath. The small sound had seemed to fill the silent room. No one called out.

No one called out.

She whirled and scanned the room. A single lit taper sat on the table between two chairs that faced the empty hearth. Shadows filled the corners and reached out from the bed centered against the far right wall. Where was the viscount? Alison squinted at the bed. Was he asleep? Surely, he didn’t expect Erin to simply climb into bed with him?

Alison crossed to the bed and discerned that the covers were made. A door was located to the left of the bed. Probably a dressing closet. No light shone from beneath. She turned. Where was he? Had she made a mistake in the time? Impossible.

She hurried to the candle, threw back her hood and pulled the note from her cloak pocket. Alison unfolded the paper and tilted the note toward the light.

My Love,

Meet me tonight at my home at 1:00. I will leave the kitchen door unlocked. Take the servants’ stairs located to the right and go to the third floor. My room is the first on the right. We will be alone, so you need not worry, we will have the privacy I promised you.

I cannot wait until you are in my arms again,

Cam

Her blood boiled as it had each of the other times she’d read the note. We will have all the privacy I promised you. What other promises had he made? Not one of marriage, she would wager. Her gaze returned to the endearment my love. He knew exactly how to manipulate an impressionable young woman. So why wasn’t he here? Damn him again. Why invite Erin to his bedchambers, then not be here?

Alison stuffed the note back into her pocket and crept from the room and back down the stairs. She reached the pantry, then hesitated. Where would the viscount be this time of night? She snorted. In some other lady’s bed, no doubt. It was well known he kept a mistress in a nondescript neighborhood of Inverness. One in Edinburgh, as well, if gossip was to be believed. She grimaced. Apparently, she did listen to gossip. Unfortunately, this time, it wasn’t the kind that would help.

Her heart fell. There was nothing to be done. She couldn’t very well go in search of him—even if she knew where he was. Should she have waited for him in his room? God only knew when the scoundrel would return. Perhaps not even tonight. Her ire mounted. It was bad enough he enticed Erin into his bed, but to not be there was the height of arrogance—and cruelty. Erin was naïve and reckless. But to be so carelessly rejected by his absence would be a dagger to her heart. By God, if she knew where he was, she would find him, consequences be damned.

The creak of a door snapped her mind to attention. A man’s laughter followed, then a male voice said, “You are no’ on the docks in Glasgow, James. Your carriage is safe on the street here in Inverness.”

Viscount Weston.

Alison’s heart jumped to a gallop. He wasn’t alone.

“If there is any trouble, my driver is not above leaving me here stranded,” replied another male voice.

“I suggest you find a new driver, then,” the viscount said.

“Easy for ye to say,” the other rejoined. “Good drivers are hard to come by these days.”