April Moon by Susan King, Merline Lovelace, MIRANDA JARRETT

England one April night in 1803 pours its romantic light over Scotland, too. As Jenny Colvin races desperately over the moorland intent on saving her father from the hangman’s noose, she meets Sir Simon Lockhart—again. This time Simon is far more than the handsome rogue she kissed years before, the man whose smuggling deeds were legendary, the man who stole her heart as well as her father’s treasure, and then disappeared. Now he’s back, and even more dangerous—and he is the last man Jenny wants to meet that night.
    Simon has returned with one secret and heartfelt purpose in mind—but an unexpected meeting with Jenny Colvin throws his careful plans to the winds. She is impetuous, lovely and even more desirable than he remembers, and soon Simon must decide what means more to him—a pledge of honor or a promise of the heart.
    Follow Simon and Jenny through the moonlight as they hunt for treasure, encounter a legend and discover the power of love under the magic of a full Scottish moon.
    Susan King

For the marvelous Murs, Merline and Miranda,
and for Cathy Maxwell, too.

PROLOGUE
    T HE HARD RHYTHM of his boot heels matched the measure of his thundering heart. Walking the length of the Tolbooth’s stone corridor with a sure stride, black Hessians gleaming in the torchlight, Sir Simon Lockhart passed a row of small, dank cells. He noted but did not acknowledge the curious glances of a few prisoners as he continued toward the last, shadowed door.
    Keep away from my daughter.
    In four years, Simon had not forgotten the words that Jock Colvin had uttered to him, nor had he let go of the pain he had felt on hearing them. Jenny Colvin will never marry a free-trading rogue. Keep away.
    Well, the free-trading rogue had returned a changed man, Simon thought. He was now a baronet and Writer to the Signet, and he had lately accepted a post for one year in the region where he had grown to manhood. The smuggler was a respectable man now, and intended to woo Jenny Colvin properly, as she deserved.
    Improved suitor or not, he had arrived too late. The High Sheriff of Whithorn had informed him that Jock Colvin was in residence at the Tolbooth, and sentenced to hang the next day.
    Though he had given no sign of it, Simon had felt his hopes slip away, wrecked like a ship on a reef. Jock Colvin had been Simon’s mentor and friend, and Simon had looked forward to restoring that. Nor would he regain Jenny’s regard, now that her father was about to be executed by king’s men—and Simon was one of them. He knew her too well to expect forgiveness for that.
    Damn fool, he told himself, to let his own steely vein of pride keep him away so long. He should have come back earlier, should have let them know that he was well, that he dreamed of them, that he loved them despite all.
    Pausing at the last door in the passageway, he peered through the iron grate that pierced the thick wood, seeing only shadows beyond. Through a tiny window across the cell, Simon glimpsed the pale glow of a full moon against a twilight sky.
    Inside the cell, a tall, lanky man moved in the shadows. The torchlight in the passageway illumined his gaunt features, his eyes blue and rheumy above crinkled cheeks and a limp grayish beard. He looked old and spent, but for the spark in those eyes.
    “Jock Colvin,” Simon said quietly.
    Jock stared at his visitor. “Well,” he said slowly. “It’s the Laird o’ Lockhart, back from the dead.”
    “Back from Edinburgh, actually,” Simon said mildly.
    Jock grunted. “Four years gone, with nae farewell to those who tutored you and trusted you. At first, we thought you dead. But I see you’ve become a fine gentleman.”
    “So it would seem. I’m glad to see you, Jock.”
    “Another few days, you’d have missed me altogether.” Colvin came closer and poked a grimy finger through the iron bars to flick the snowy cravat that spilled over Simon’s shirt and the front of his dark blue, neatly fitted vest and jacket.