Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

But it wasn’t their handsome faces that haunted her mind’s eye. It was the lean, chiseled visage of her very own Highland hero.

Alec, with his storm-blue eyes and red-gold hair. His fire-bright smile and brandy-warm kisses, both of which he kept so well hidden behind a mask of flinty reserve.

Men.

She huffed a frustrated sigh. The jumble of conflicting emotions they set off was all so confusing. Did it ever get any easier to understand the mysteries of the heart?

Despite her fatigue, Caro felt too unsettled for sleep to come. Kicking back the coverlet, she decided to seek solace in paper and pen. Writing a letter to Anna would be comforting just for the sense of connecting with her sister rather than seeking any specific advice. Though Anna was sharp enough that she would likely read between the lines and guess that Cupid’s arrow had struck the youngest Hellion of High Street.

Love.

Caro paused for a moment to look out the window at the sliver of moon hovering just above the dark silhouette of the trees. It looked so fragile, a tiny glimmering of pale, pearlescent light winking against such a vast stretch of midnight black.

Did it ever feel lost and lonely as it made its arc through the faraway stars? Did the diamond-bright pinpoints…

Ah, but that was a subject for a poem.

For now, however, she would content herself with writing a simple missive describing the stay in Bath.

As she took a seat at her desk and reached for her inkwell, Caro spotted the crumpled piece of paper she had fished out from the bosom of her gown. It was probably just an old bill from Alec’s bootmaker or a list for his wine merchant. Still, it bore the faint trace of his scent—that beguiling whiff of bay rum and earthy spice that made her heart give a tiny lurch.

She inhaled a gulp of air and held the breath in her lungs for a moment before going on.

“I am a hopeless romantic,” she murmured wryly as she smoothed out the crinkles, imagining Alec’s fingers touching the same small stretch of foolscap. Drawing it closer she peered down at the faint script.

Caro recognized his handwriting, but the penciled lines were smudged and hard to read. To make out the words, she shifted the paper nearer to the branch of candles.

Light flickered over the paper as she slowly deciphered the scribbles. It was… a poem?

She leaned in, nose now nearly touching the paper, and skimmed over the stanzas.

Yes, a poem.

Caro read it again, and then again. Not just a poem, but a wonderful poem. Lyrical. Imaginative. Provocative.

And most of all, passionate.

Pressing her palms to the page, she drew a long, measured breath. He had such an artistic nature and mischievous spirit to go along with his chiseled strength and steely principles.

It was achingly sad to see him keep so much of his true self bottled up inside.

Why did he do so?

When she had first learned of his marriage, Caro had feared that it was because his heart still belonged to his late wife. However, she was beginning to suspect that the answer was not so simple. Though it might be unfair, she decided that she would quiz Isobel more on his marriage, in order to understand what demons were holding him hostage.

Slowly, slowly, she folded the creased paper and slipped it into her notebook.

Despite the fact that the distance was back between them, that his heart was not hers, Caro refused to give up on Alec quite yet. Whatever else had come between them, they were still friends, and she was determined to make him acknowledge the better side of himself.

Yes, I will make him see that strength and steel aren’t diminished by laughter and love.

Love.

Caro knew he didn’t love her. But perhaps in freeing himself from the shackles of his unhappy past he would find someone to love—truly love—in the future.

Alec deserves no less.

And so do I.