“Heather,” he said with wrenching agony, and drew her splendid body against his big, brutish one.
This girl shattered his soul.
Why her?
He dared not free his heart to love her.
And yet it was probably too late.
What if he could not protect her from the unknown?
“Oh, Heather,” he said, kissing her full on the mouth with scorching heat.
Chapter Five
Is this howkisses feel when one is in love?
Heather knew she had fallen in love with the Duke of Arran. How could she possibly deny it after that kiss? She knew he hadn’t meant to do it, for he drew away with a horrified look. Well, not really horrified.
Confused?
“Miss Alwyn, I don’t know what to say. I did not mean for this to happen.” He raked a hand through his hair, then sighed and gave her cheek a gentle caress, his knuckles as light as a feather against her skin. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I have just been kissed by a handsome duke. Wouldn’t any girl be all right after that?”
“You are not just any girl.” His voice was rough and raspy as he spoke. “We had better return to the house before anyone notices us missing. I doubt any of my guests will be awake yet, but their maids or valets might be.”
“Yes, I see,” she remarked as he led her toward the kitchen entrance where she might slip in unobserved. She expected he would then stride in through the front entrance, for this was his home, after all. Still, caution was required. “One of us should go in first, and then the other can follow after a few minutes.”
“You first. I think I shall ride straight over to the village church and inspect their records. Births, deaths, marriages.”
“What should I do in the meantime? I want to help.”
“My ogre of an aunt will keep you too busy to do more than tend to her whims. But it would be helpful to make note of anything that feels wrong with the house. A door out of place. A secret passage, perhaps?”
“Like the smuggler’s tunnel you mentioned?”
“Yes, write all of it down. I prefer to leave nothing to chance.”
“I’ll make a list for you this very morning. There is a painting…” She shook her head, wanting to shake loose a memory that remained stubbornly out of her grasp. “Never mind. Perhaps I will look at it again while you are gone. Something about it feels important.”
He nodded. “I won’t be long.”
She stood by the kitchen door and watched the duke lead his magnificent stallion from the stable and ride off. As soon as he was out of sight, she left the house, intending to make her way back to the beach, since it was early yet and she would have hours before his aunt awoke to write her list. He would be angry, but she wasn’t really disobeying him.
She would keep away from the caves, just as she had promised him.
But the beach was another matter. If she and the ghost were related, would it not be helpful to seek her out there and question her?
The duke was being overly protective. He feared this ghost.
Heather did not.
All was quiet, not even a birdsong to be heard as she hurried past the grove of trees where they had been sitting a short while ago. She arrived at the cliff steps and paused to look up and down the beach. The Singing Caves were hardly visible in the distance. A mist hung over them, stubbornly lingering upon the rocks despite the sun burning down with all its heat and clearing off the rest of the beach and water.
Heather scampered down the stairs and hopped onto the soft sand. The tide was out, but she had not paid close attention to its rhythms and did not know when it would roll back in.
Well, it did not matter. She was not going to stay long, and the beach was safe even at high tide.
