Free Highlander Undone by Connie Brockway

since Jack Cameron had arrived she had found herself spending more and more time at her toilette, choosing and discarding gowns, having the maid arrange and rearrange her hair, fussing with her few pieces of jewelry.
    And then, when she’d finally gone downstairs, having decided she simply wasn’t going to look any better no matter how many more gowns she tried on, it had been to discover that she’d given the footman—who occasionally acted as her driver—the day off.
    In a rare, confident mood, she’d told the groom to hitch the rig and announced her attention of driving herself. It had proved a happy decision. As a girl she had often handled the carriage reins, letting her horse fly over the countryside lanes and roads. Now the air’s clean, sharp tang revived dim memories of other freshening winds, winds of nearly forgotten autumns. Exhilarating autumns.
    With a sound of pleasure, she urged the little mare to a faster pace, uncertain whether the breezes or the thought of seeing Jack Cameron brought the color to her cheeks.
    She had just crested a small rise when she saw a rider. For a moment fear made a lump in her throat. Then, nearly as quickly as it had surprised her by appearing, her fear surprised her again by vanishing.
    After all, what was there to fear? A casual rider chance met on a glorious autumn day. What was the danger in that? Her lack of trepidation delighted her and she laughed out loud. It was only when he drew closer that she recognized him and her heart leapt in response.
    Jack.
    He was seated on a mild-looking roan hack, looking for all the world born to the saddle. It was only when he kicked the horse forward that she noticed how awkwardly he held the reins.
    “Mrs. Hoodless,” he hailed her. “I am come to rescue you.”
    “Rescue me?” She tilted her head. He was so handsome, so lean and splendid, he put her in mind of a greyhound, quivering with nerves and barely contained power.
    Power? she wondered uneasily, backing away from the estimation. Powerful men were dangerous. Besides, he looked barely able to rein in his horse. She relaxed.
    “Yes, dear lady. From your toilette.” His lazy, casual gaze traveled over her lilac-edged, pearl-gray gown.
    She laughed. “As you can see, you are too late to play the savior. I have long since escaped the clutches of my dressing table.”
    “But not before it has exerted its influence. Might I say, you look very charming.”
    She dimpled. “Thank you. Now, Jack, why are you really here?”
    “Lady Merritt was concerned for your safety.”
    Addie felt herself blush. “Am I so late?”
    Jack nodded. “You’ve missed lunch. Or will have by the time we return. Norton was gobbling the dessert with unprecedented speed when I left. By the time we return, he may well have eaten his way through the centerpiece’s wax fruit.”
    Addie laughed again but then grew sober. “Is Lady Merritt very unhappy with me?”
    Jack waved his hand dismissively, squinting in feigned contempt. “She’ll survive. Frankly, I think she’s more upset about not having won a single game of croquet. As I was her partner, I believe sending me off to look for you served a dual purpose. Now she can find a more worthy teammate.”
    “She sent you?” Addie could not keep the disappointment from her voice. Jack noticed and at once dropped his teasing manner, studying her with gentle eyes.
    It was one of the things she most liked about him. For all his foolish wit and insouciance, there was little that escaped his attention. He always managed to say just the right thing to make people feel good about themselves. He was so perceptive, so innately kind, traits that were rare in most men.
    “She sent me, aye. But her request only sanctioned my own desire.”
    He’d spoken lightly enough, but there was something in his gaze . . . Sadness? Why would wanting to be with her make Jack sad?
    “Shall I drive?” he asked. “Or do you prefer to continue?”
    In answer, she slid