Highland Awakening

by Jennifer Haymore

  “Twin boys?” Hawkins asked, as if he’d never heard of such a thing.

  “No wonder she was so enormous!” Esme exclaimed. “Oh my goodness. I have to see her. Immediately.”

  Two seconds later, she was out the door. Another two seconds, and McLeod had followed her. Within the next ten seconds, the room had completely drained of its occupants, leaving Colin alone.

  He hated being by himself, but lately he’d been managing it better. He sat still, listening to the excited voices outside, the opening and closing of doors, the rap of boots on the floorboards. Eventually the sounds died down, and he wondered if, in fact, the entire household had gone to welcome the duchess’s new arrivals.

  Which, in turn, would mean he was well and truly alone.

  Don’t think about that. Don’t think about it.

  Beads of sweat breaking out over his forehead, he rose abruptly. He’d go out, that’s what he’d do. London was good, because there was always a soul nearby. It wasn’t guaranteed, but usually surrounding himself with strangers was enough to chase the demons away.

  He tried not to think of the dead silence of the house as he strode upstairs to fetch his coat and hat. God, he couldn’t even hear the cook or Bailey. Mayhap they’d gone to celebrate the newborns as well.

  Why hadn’t he gone? Perhaps he should have. But he didn’t know the Duke and Duchess of Trent, not like the others. And he hadn’t even had a chance to think twice about it before they’d all banged out of the house.

  He went into his room and leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. Why was he breathing hard? He was losing his mind, that was why. He hadn’t previously known that breathlessness was part of the process of losing one’s mind, but he’d learned in the past year that it definitely was.

  Come on, man, he told himself. Stop. Breathe. Don’t lose your wits—not here, not now.

  He hated it when that happened. When his throat constricted so tight he couldn’t get in a breath, until he felt his pulse beating frantically, his heart nearly bursting from his chest. Until he was absolutely certain he was going to die.

  He hadn’t died, not yet. Once, though, he had lost consciousness, only to wake on his floor with bright sunlight streaming over his face, wondering what the hell had happened.

  He lunged forward, managing to open his wardrobe and pull out his coat and shove his arms through the armholes. He left the room, forgetting his hat, then remembering it and staggering back and grabbing it. Hurrying down the stairs, he clutched the handrail with a trembling hand, then lurched down the corridor and opened the door to the unseasonably cool day.

  Miraculously, he managed to lock the front door behind him, even though his hand shook like a leaf in the wind.

  There were several people close, thank God, walking up and down both sides of the street, as well as an endless stream of carriages, horses, and carts rattling over the cobblestones. He looked to the right and to the left, and then decided to turn left. His walks often took him in this direction lately, toward Mayfair and Viscount Pinfield’s house.

  His tendency to find himself pulled in this direction was somewhat a mystery. Pinfield had definitely earned his position at the bottom of the list of people Colin wished to see, ever.

  Not Pinfield’s daughter, though. She was a light in a world of darkness, a sweet, kind angel…

  He hadn’t seen Emilia since that night at Vauxhall Gardens when Ross had been attacked. He hadn’t had Pinfield duty since then—and Colin missed those rare glimpses he’d had of her.

  He strode down the street, trying to appear in control, but it was no use. Even the crowds weren’t helping. His breaths were getting shorter, raspier, more panicky.

  Dinna do this. You can breathe. It’s all in your mind. Your mad, addled mind…

  But the monsters had him, their talons digging into his chest.

  He walked for several minutes—maybe ten, maybe more—until his vision blurred and he had no clear idea where he was. He felt the demons inside him, trying to take him over, body and soul.

  He wouldn’t let them. He couldn’t. He continued to walk. It didn’t matter where. As long as he kept walking, he maintained some semblance of control.

  “Sir Colin? Sir Colin!”

  He stopped, blinking, his chest heaving, and looked around. A young blond woman in a straw bonnet and pink dress stood nearby. It was her who was speaking…maybe. Her lips were moving, but he seemed to catch her words long moments after she spoke them.

  “I thought that was you.” A look of concern passed over her face, and Colin recognized her, finally. It was Lady Emilia Pinfield. “Is…is something wrong?” she asked him.

  “Wrong?” Colin managed, still gasping for breath. “Er…nay.”

  Her frown deepened. “But you’re breathing very hard.”

  “I’ve…uh…been walking. Quickly.” That was hardly an acceptable explanation, but he couldn’t think of anything better.

  “You must sit down and rest for a moment, then. There’s a bench right over there. Come.” She gestured for him to follow her, and turned. He realized they were in a square—though for the life of him he couldn’t remember which one. Berkeley Square, mayhap? Anyhow, she walked down a path flanked by trees, and moments later, a bench appeared, just as promised.

  She stood by it, waiting for him. “Sit, Sir Colin, and catch your breath.”

  He did as he was told, clutching his knees and bending his head, taking in deep gulps of air. It seemed he could actually breathe again, and he gorged his deprived lungs.

  Finally, he looked up at her. “Thank you, milady.”

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Aye,” he said.

  She eyed him warily. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye.”

  After studying him for another prolonged moment, she seemed satisfied. “You’re welcome, then.” She lowered herself on the bench beside him. “I’ll sit with you for a minute to make sure you’re all right, but I must go soon. My father will be home any minute now.”

  Colin stiffened at the mention of Pinfield—he’d seen firsthand how sternly the man treated his daughter. “You should go, then,” he told her. “I dinna want you to get into any trouble.”

  She shrugged, surprising him. “Ah, well, trouble is all I seem to get into lately. You could hardly make it worse.”

  He frowned. “What d’you mean by that?”

  “Oh, it is nothing.” She waved her hand in dismissal, but he recognized the dark shadows in her eyes. Something was wrong in Emilia Pinfield’s world, and he had a sudden, desperate need to make it right.

  She laughed, but the sound was high and false. “Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go. It’s always been like that, though. I do believe I’m a bit of a magnet for it.”

  Colin had never seen this version of Emilia Pinfield before—for he’d never seen her without her father. When Pinfield was near, she was quiet and shy and seemed to try to make herself smaller, but this young woman seemed simply larger in just about every way. She’d spoken to him more, and more animatedly, in the last thirty seconds than she had in their entire acquaintance.

  “If you’re in any trouble, milady,” Colin said slowly, “you can come to the Highland Knights. You ken that, aye?”

  “Come to you?” She raised a skeptical brow. “The men who guard my father?”

  “Aye. Come to us. We can protect you from…” From your father. From anyone.

  “Can you?” she asked softly, finally seeming to consider him seriously with intelligent gray-blue eyes.

  He nodded. “Anytime.”

  “Like…knights in shining armor.”

  “Aye, exactly.”

  She smiled again, but this time it was a sad smile. “Oh, Sir Colin. I wish I could believe you. But I fear it’s too late for anyone—knights in shining armor included—to rescue me.”

  Alarm shot through him. What did she mean by that? “Nay, you’re wrong, milad—”

  She rose
abruptly. He’d thought she was very young before, perhaps nineteen or twenty, and she did have the delicate features of a younger lass, but now her expression appeared much older and he wondered how old she really was.

  “I must go,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Sir Colin.”

  He rose and held out his hand, grasping her arm just as she turned away. “Dinna underestimate the Knights, milady. If you ever need our services, find us. We will help.”

  He was back to himself, he realized, the demons banished, his breaths slow and even, his voice serious and earnest.

  She gazed at him with sorrowful eyes for a moment, then lowered her lashes. “Thank you, Sir Colin,” she said, ever so politely.

  She gently extricated herself from his grasp, then walked away.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Sue Grimshaw and everyone at Random House who assisted with the production of this book. Thanks to Kate McKinley, who helps me in more ways than I can list. And thanks to my family, especially my husband, who has supported me without fail since the moment I started writing.

  BY JENNIFER HAYMORE

  The Highland Knights

  A Highlander’s Heart

  Highland Heat

  Highland Awakening

  Highland Temptation (coming soon)

  PHOTO: RENEE BOWEN

  USA Today bestselling author JENNIFER HAYMORE is the author of sexy historical and contemporary romance. Her books have been nominated for numerous awards, including five RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice awards and the prestigious RITA® award for best historical romance. You can find Jennifer Haymore in Southern California trying to talk her husband into yet another trip to England, helping her three children with homework while brainstorming a new five-minute dinner menu, or crouched in a corner of the local bookstore writing her next novel.

  jenniferhaymore.com

  Facebook.com/​jenniferhaymore-author

  @jenniferhaymore

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  The Editor’s Corner

  March into romance this month with Loveswept—snuggle up with your e-reader and our new books to escape the chill of those cold winter nights.

  Who doesn’t love naked men? In Christi Barth’s Risking It All, friends bonded by tragedy fight for their future with strong and sassy women. In New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s Lovegame, a damaged starlet bares her soul—and falls for the one man who cares enough to listen. Speaking of games, New York Times bestselling author Violet Duke kicks off her sizzling-hot new Fourth Down series with a friends-to-lovers romance between a no-strings-attached sports analyst and the hottest damn tomboy he’s ever met, in Jackson’s Trust. As Sawyer Bennett’s New York Times bestselling Cold Fury series continues with Hawke, the league’s most notorious party animal gets blindsided by the one that got away. The world of extreme sports just got a little steamier in Zoe Dawson’s Ramping Up. Second chances are sweeter than ever for a reformed bully who’s more than just a jock in Charlotte Stein’s next installment of the steamy Dark Obsession series, Never Sweeter. And Shana Gray’s provocative new novel features a resilient fighter going round for tantalizing round with the one that got away in After the Hurt.

  For history fans, the Highland Knights series continues with a tight-knit band of Scottish mercenaries in USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Haymore’s Highland Awakening. Don’t miss the first book in USA Today bestselling author Ashlyn Macnamara’s charming new regency romance trilogy, To Lure a Proper Lady.

  And for those contemporary romance fans, there’s a new voice in romance you won’t want to miss—A. M. Madden—who cleans up the city streets in the first book in her new True Heroes series, Stone Walls, featuring hot alpha men on the NYPD force. New York Times bestselling author Marquita Valentine ratchets up the tension as new beginnings lead to undeniable passion in After We Fall. And in Resist, a sizzling novel from New York Times bestselling author Missy Johnson, a young journalist goes undercover in a world of desire.

  I’m sad to say it’s over…but it’s not over over, as there is a bouquet of beautiful romances awaiting you in April!

  Until next month—Happy Romance!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Highland Temptation

  by Jennifer Haymore

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  “There’ve been whispers in Town,” Major Campbell, the leader of the Highland Knights, said. “Rumors we’ll be needing to pay attention to.”

  It was late—after midnight—and everyone in the household but the major and Sir Colin Stirling had already gone to bed. Colin and the major sat in the drawing room of the Knights’ Westminster townhouse, the room that in the past year and a half had become the place where they gathered almost every day to converse, speak of business, or simply relax together. It had become the one place where Colin could almost feel safe.

  Colin leaned back in his chair, his thumb running over the cool lip of his whisky glass. “Aye, I ken.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  “Nay. But…” Colin shook his head. Born and raised in the Scottish Highlands, he was somewhat of a superstitious man, and he simply felt things sometimes. He had sensed these rumors, these angry, inflaming whispers, growing in intensity over the last month or two, at various events he’d attended in London. He didn’t know the source of them, or even the topic, but…“I’ve felt them,” he finished.

  The major was never one to question Colin—and thank God for that, because if he did he would have sent Colin off to Bedlam months ago. He tapped speculative fingers on his knee. “I havena spoken to the others because we havena enough information, or an inkling of what to do about all this talk—or even if anything needs to be done. But I dinna like it.” Major Campbell pushed a rough hand through his thick russet-brown hair.

  “Neither do I,” Colin agreed. “What, exactly, have you been hearing?”

  “Rumblings about the Regent and his lack of decency. Complaints that he’s an embarrassment to the populace.”

  Colin pressed his lips together. The Prince Regent would never be his favorite royal, but he would be king someday, and Colin wasn’t one to criticize a man who’d someday be his liege lord.

  “Whispers that the entire House of Hanover possesses the same flaw that caused King George III’s madness, and the entire family is soon to go the way of the king, frothing at the mouth and speaking nonsense.” The major’s lips twisted. “ ’Tis being said we’re all doomed if we continue to hail the Hanovers as our monarchs.”

  Colin ground his teeth. This felt like a subtle, insidious attempt to undermine the monarchy. “Feels to me like a tumor on the general unrest and massive demand for parliamentary reform. Little lies like this can only fester and grow.”

  The major sighed.

  “Someone is responsible for starting these rumors, and for disseminating them. Who is it?” Colin asked.

  “That’s what we dinna ken. And I think we need to find out,” the major said.

  “Laurent would be the one for that, don’t you think?”

  Laurent Dupré was the youngest and newest member of the Highland Knights. The dark-haired French lad was the only one of them who wasn’t a Highlander and who didn’t have a background in the army. After losing two men—one to murder and one to treachery—the Highland Knights’ membership was back up to seven. A good number, in Colin’s opinion. But they were continuing to grow in other ways, too—four of the knights were now married.

  While the Highland Knights were becoming known throughout the kingdom as defenders of the Crown, they’d kept Laurent Dupré’s membership a closely guarded secret for the past few months. Trained as an English spy since he was a wee lad, Laurent had perfected the art of slipping in and out of conversations and collecting peoples’ secrets without being suspected. H
is ability to pass without notice was in direct contrast to the rest of the Knights—all large and intimidating kilt-wearing Highland warriors who couldn’t enter a building without everyone inside immediately noting their presence.

  The major nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, you’re right. Mayhap Laurent’s first major assignment should be to investigate the source of these grumblings.” He took a deep swallow of his whisky. “I could be wrong,” he said after a moment. “It could be nothing. Just malicious whispers, aye? People never stop complaining, even in the best of times.”

  “Aye,” Colin agreed mildly. But his gut told him otherwise.

  The major sighed and set down his glass. “Well, Claire is waiting. I’m to bed.”

  Colin swallowed down the instant panic that overtook him and nodded. “Me, too.”

  The two men rose, Colin clenching his fists at his sides. The major would go to his room, where his wife, Lady Claire, awaited him. A warm body. Comfort. Love. Colin was headed to his own bed, where he’d find nothing but coldness and darkness, and his demons. This was the time of day he dreaded the most—when he’d be left alone to fend for himself. To fight off the demons that haunted him every single damn night.

  The major had been forced to chase away Colin’s demons a few times, which was a few times more than Colin liked. It was humiliating, what they did to him. How they reduced him to something less than a man.

  Taking up the lantern, the major opened the door, and the two of them stepped into the corridor and turned toward the stairway that led to the first floor and their bedchambers. But just then, a sound drew them both to a sudden halt. A pounding on the front door.

  The major looked back over his shoulder at Colin, his brows raised. “What the hell?”