Alone in the library, Jamie studied the portrait of his ancestor, Shaw MacDougall, captain of the legendary Savage of the Sea. Family lore told of MacDougall’s bride and the happiness they’d found together. Just as Jamie’s great-grandfather, Seamus, had fallen under the spell of a winsome lass, Shaw had taken a lovely beauty into his heart.

When he’d been a young buck like Rory, Jamie had wondered why a man like Shaw MacDougall would take a wife. After all, the pirate had all the whisky and willing women he could want to sate his appetites. Later, after he’d met Siobhan, he understood the longing for a good woman at his side.

For a time, Siobhan had faithfully endured her marriage to a privateer, but she’d yearned for the life of a respectable sea captain’s wife. Eventually, Jamie had walked away from the mayhem of the Highland Raiders. Truth be told, he sometimes chafed at the lack of adventure and craved the thrill of the chase that arose while pursuing a cargo filled with contraband or stolen antiquities. But he’d never regretted the choice he’d made to leave behind his life as a pirate. He’d loved Siobhan. Theirs had been a marriage borne of hunger—for connection, for healing, for love. She’d been a gentle soul, and she’d wanted desperately to love him, if only to escape an empty existence as her brother’s unwanted ward. But as time passed, she could no longer pretend, not even to herself.

I would leave ye, Jamie, if not for our bairns. Ye’re a good father. I’ve made my bed. And have chosen to lie in it.

But not with you, my dear husband.

Siobhan had spoken those words scarcely a fortnight before she’d died protecting their children. She’d loved their daughters enough to stay with a man she regarded with a practiced indifference. At times, it would’ve been better if she’d hated him.

After her death, he’d vowed never again to give a woman his heart. Doing so made a man weak. His ancestors had been lucky to find lasses who’d challenge them and stir their desire. Jamie’d never thought to find such a woman.

Until Leana had marched into his life and upended everything he’d held true.

The lass was infuriating. She’d boldly stood up to him, daring to speak her mind when she believed the girls’ best interest was at stake. She’d set Mrs. Taylor in her place, and she’d defied him even when he was of a mind to send her marching right back out the door with her traveling bag in hand.

God above, she intrigued him. When she was around, he wanted to know what captured her interest. He wanted to hear her opinions, even when he did not agree. He wanted to know what pleased her, in his bed and out of it. And when she wasn’t near, his thoughts wandered to her at all hours of the day and night.

Above all, he wanted to know her. Leana was vibrant and endearing. He couldn’t get enough of her.

By thunder, he’d been a fool to take her to bed. Hadn’t he? God knew he’d intended to resist the temptation.

But she’d been so damned enticing, he could not turn away. Not even when a voice deep within warned he was heading to the point of no return.

He’d loved her with his body and, he was loath to admit, with his heart. She’d returned his passion in kind. He’d desired her, more than he’d ever craved a woman, but there was more. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Whether she was quietly reading some lurid novel by the hearth, dancing with Rory while happiness lit her beautiful face, or reclining like a goddess in his bed, Leana was everything he’d ever wanted.

Now the question was—what the hell should he do about it?

He would not take a mistress. The prospect left him cold. Not that Leana would even consider such an arrangement. No, the lass would likely slap him soundly and be on her way out of his life. Forever.

But he could take a wife.

God in heaven, had madness truly overtaken him?

Walking slowly along the corridor, he mulled his options. Would Leana give her heart to a man who craved a return to the sea? Could she be happy as a sea captain’s wife? Would a respectable woman settle for the likes of him? The questions tore at him. He was a fool to think she’d accept his proposal.

Rory strode toward him, mercifully stirring him from thoughts. “We have a visitor. Ye need to come to the front parlor.”

“Bluidy hell, show Finch the damned door. I’ve no patience—”

Rory’s mouth pulled tight with strain. “It’s not him. It’s…it’s a woman.”

“A woman?”

“Her name is Miss Abernathy. She arrived by carriage from Inverness. She claims Mrs. Kirk from the agency sent her.”

“Mrs. Kirk…” Jamie pictured the all-too-glowing reference Leana had presented, a letter signed by none other than the director of the governess agency.

Rory rubbed his neck. “There must be a mistake.”

“Ye’re right, but I’d wager I’m the blasted fool who made it."

The waning sun streamed rays of light around the curtains in the drawing room. Seated at the piano with Isla on one side and Bridget at the other, Leana pointed to a note on the sheet music. Correctly reading the symbol, Isla plunked her finger down on middle C, then proceeded to move along the scale as Leana indicated each note in turn.

“C,” Bridget said in her cheery, high-pitched voice, repeating after Leana. “D. E. F. G.”

As Isla placed her finger on the A, Rory strode into the room, distracting the girl into losing her place.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but this canna wait.” Concern etched lines on his features.

The worry in his expression triggered an inner alarm. “Has something happened?” Leana asked.

“I canna say.” He shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “My brother needs to speak with ye in his study. It’s a matter of some importance.”

Isla glared at her uncle. “Ye’re interrupting my studies, I’ll have ye know.”

“It canna be helped,” he said, seeming to avoid Leana’s gaze.

“Very well.” Rising, Leana smoothed out her skirts with the palms of her hands. Her pulse raced while apprehension roiled her stomach. What in heavens was going on?

After instructing Isla to read a fairy tale of her choice to her sister, Leana walked with Rory down the hall. His long, swift strides made short work of the corridor, but she kept up with him despite her cumbersome skirts.

“Do you care to tell me why I’ve been summoned to this command performance?”

Again, Rory looked away. “It’s not my place.”

“My, how very ominous.”

He met her comment with silence as he opened the door to Jamie’s study.

As she walked into the room, Jamie met her eyes. The dire look in his gaze twisted an invisible knot in her belly.

Something was wrong.

Very much so.

A woman in her middle years sat in the chair by his desk. Dressed in dull brown from the prim hat on her head to the hem of her skirt, the visitor worried her lower lip as she stared down at the knot of her fingers.

“My apologies,” the woman said, glancing up. “I did not mean to cause a stir.”

“Ye’ve done nothing that warrants an apology,” Jamie said, his manner deceptively relaxed as he strode toward Leana. He motioned to her. “Please, come in. Rory, close the door.”

Leana’s mouth filled with cotton. Whatever was happening, she was not going to like the outcome.

She met his eyes, seeing clearly the anger simmering beneath his outward calm. “Do you care to tell me what is going on?”

“It seems I have a problem. I have not one…but two…governesses for my daughters.”

“Two governesses?” Her stomach plummeted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rory rub his neck as if he’d developed a sudden ache.

“Aye. Miss Abernathy arrived after the morning meal. She’s presented a sterling reference from the Kirk agency.”

“Evidently, there has been some mistake,” Leana said, holding her voice steady with some effort, even as her knees wobbled.

“Aye, ye’ll get no argument from me—the mistake was that I trusted ye. Now, do ye care to tell me who the hell ye really are?”

Miss Abernathy fanned herself with her lace-gloved hand. “Really, Captain, there’s no call for such language.”

His scowl silenced the woman. “I’ll ask ye to leave this room. I need a few moments with Miss Fraser. Rory, will ye see Miss Abernathy to the parlor?”

With a nod, Rory escorted the woman from the room. As the door closed behind him, Jamie pinned Leana with a dagger-filled glare.

“Who are ye? And why did ye come here?”

Pain lanced her heart. After what they’d shared the night before, after the way he’d touched her, the way he’d loved her, how could he look at her like that—as if she were a guttersnipe who’d invaded his home?

“You know my name. And you know why I am here.”

She spied the letter of reference she’d presented on his desk. Oh, dear. He snatched it up. “I had my doubts about this letter when ye first arrived. Now I see I was a fool to cast them aside. The director of the agency didn’t write this, did she?”

Leana moistened her lips, stalling for time. “Actually, Mrs. Kirk did write the letter.”

“But not about you.” He pointed to her name, emphasizing the slight difference in penmanship compared to the remainder of the missive.

“Yes. That’s true.” The words tasted like bile on her tongue.

Jamie leaned closer, his voice low and raw. “Why did ye forge this letter?”

“I wanted the position,” she said, omitting perhaps the most crucial part of the truth.

“Do ye think me a fool?” He tossed the letter back on his desk. “Who sent ye here?”

“No one,” she said. “I needed a position. I wanted to settle as far away from the city as I could manage.”

Jamie scowled. Rory returned, his movements so quiet she doubted his brother had noticed.

“Ye expect me to believe that?” Jamie’s husky rasp was bitter with distrust. “How did ye come to possess this letter? Am I to believe ye convinced Mrs. Kirk to hand it over to ye?”

“Bluidy hell, Jamie—ye canna possibly think one of the Lachlands sent her here,” Rory protested. “For God’s sake, she’s not a spy.”

“At this point, I dinna know who she is. Only two things are certain—she lied to me, and I was fool enough to trust her.”

Stiffening her spine, she met his heated words head on. “I did steal the letter. I assure you, there was nothing malicious about my motives. I needed a place to go. I needed to get away, and I thought I’d be safe here, in this castle on the edge of nowhere.” Leana held his gaze, reading the distrust and the pain. How could he believe she’d come there for some nefarious purpose? “But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Ye made a fool out of me. I trusted ye with my children. I trusted ye.”

“There’s no need to go on, Captain MacArron. I know what I must do.” Leana choked back the rush of emotion threatening her composure. “I trust you will provide transportation to Inverness.”

“Consider it done.” He shot Rory a glance. “My brother will see ye back to the city. I expect ye to depart at first light. In the meantime, I’ll ask ye to keep to yer room. I’ll have Mrs. Taylor send up yer evening meal.”

“I would like a few moments to say goodbye to the girls.”

A cold, cutting ruthlessness gleamed in Jamie’s eyes. She saw then why he’d been dubbed the Devil of the Highlands.

“Absolutely not. I will inform them of yer departure in the morning. There’s no sense upsetting them now.”

Misery seared her throat. “But Isla—she’ll think I left of my own accord. I did not want to hurt them.”

He shook his head. “Ye should’ve considered that before ye lied to them. And to me.”