Highlander Undone by Connie Brockway Page A

precise military bearing.
    A month of playing indolent jackanapes for Lady Merritt’s amusement was about as much as he could contrive. His strength was rapidly returning, and this forced inactivity was driving him to distraction. But going to London without Lady Merritt had proved impossible. She insisted he stay and unless he wanted to make an enemy of her—and making an enemy of Ted’s sponsor meant he would be excluded entrée to Ted’s atelier—it was necessary he oblige.
    “A fortnight? So long?” Jack said. “I thought you wanted to be firmly entrenched in your townhouse by Christmas. That is the unofficial start of the Season, is it not?”
    It had been over a week since Addie and her brother had left for London. A week since she’d secured his promise to visit them as soon as he arrived in London; a week since she’d teased him about his overlong hair and modishly pale complexion. He missed her; it didn’t matter that he had no right to do so.
    “Ted seemed quite adamant that they arrive in London prior to the New Year,” he said carefully.
    “I understand. Eager to get the bit between your teeth, are you, Jack?” Lady Merritt popped another bit of fish into her mouth. “But dear Teddy has portraits to complete before the Royal Academy opens its show in May. You are fortunate in that you have no tiresome old despots attempting to regulate your genius.”
    He was still astonished by the fact that in all the time he’d spent with her, Lady Merritt had yet to request so much as a glimpse of a sketchbook. Not that he had one, but, in anticipation of that eventuality, he had manufactured a rather nice tale about its whereabouts. “It’s just that I am loath to keep the world ignorant of me any longer than necessary. ’Twouldn’t be Christian.”
    Lady Merritt snorted in amusement. “You are a fool, Jack Cameron,” she said fondly. “And far more a pagan than a Christian.”
    The sooner he could get to London and Ted’s studio, the sooner he might learn something about the men he suspected of treachery. And the sooner he would walk out of Addie’s life.
    The thought speared through him, agonizing with its inevitability. Each day he had spent in her company had made it clear that in any other guise he’d never have been allowed through her front door. Addie greeted every reference to the military with a nearly physical withdrawal. Any mention of officers or regiments chased the animation from her face.
    For weeks Jack had taken advantage of Addie’s perception of him as some sort of gelding.
    While he’d not denied himself her company, he had been careful never to be alone with her again. Not after that eternal and torturous carriage ride.
    It had proven that with her he could not trust himself. She awakened in him ungovernable desires, made him yearn after things he could not have, and would not allow himself to want.
    Well, now Addie was in London. As were her brother and the officers he painted. And Jack was stuck here, acting the court jester for Lady Merritt.
    “Aren’t you, Jack?” Lady Merritt’s self-congratulatory tone broke into his thoughts.
    “Aren’t I what?”
    “A pagan.”
    “Naughty Lady Merritt,” he purred. “You’ve divined my secret. I am Bacchus’s creature!”
    “Give over, Jack. How you do pose!” Lady Merritt chortled. “Bacchus, indeed. You rarely even indulge in a second glass of wine.”
    Jack sighed dramatically. “As long as I contrive to amuse, I suppose I am not completely wasted here.” For a second he wondered if he’d pushed too far. Lady Merritt was not one to allow her largesse to be undervalued. She shot him a sharply assessing look.
    “You feel you are wasting time? Languishing here?” she asked in chill tones.
    “Languishing?” He paused as though considering the word. “No. Luxuriating, yes. ’Tisn’t safe to indulge so heavily in fine wine, opulent surroundings, and superb conversation with one’s charming hostess. Only see how I