Hunter waited until he heard the clunk of the brass candlestick being set down upon the wooden surface of the desk behind him, then he cocked the pistol and swivelled his chair round to face the intruder.
She was standing with her back to him, looking over his desk.
âMiss Allardyce.â
She started round to face him, gave a small shriek, and stumbled back against the desk. Her mouth worked but no words sounded.
He rose to his feet.
Her gaze dropped to the pistol.
He made it safe and lowered it.
âMr Hunter,â she said, and he could hear the shock in her voice and see it in every nuance of her face, of her body, and in the way she was gripping at the desk behind her. âI had no idea that you were in here.â
âEvidently not.â He let his gaze wander from the long thick auburn braid of hair that hung over her shoulder down across the bodice of the cotton nightdress which, though prim and plain and patched in places, did not quite hide the figure beneath. His gaze dropped lower to the little bare toes that peeped from beneath its hem, before lifting once more to those golden brown eyes. And something of the woman seemed to call to him, so that, just as when he had first looked at her upon the moor, an overwhelming desire surged through him.
I love the rugged harsh beauty of the Scottish moorland, so much so that Iâve set A DARK AND BROODING GENTLEMAN on a moor in the West of Scotland, not so very far away from where I live. Blackloch, the fictional moor in the story, is based mainly on Eaglesham Moor (south of Glasgow), with a little touch of Rannoch Moor (near Glencoe) thrown in just for good measure. If you are interested, you can see pictures of the moors and read about the historical research behind the story on my website: www.margaretmcphee.co.uk
Blackloch is almost as dark and brooding as Sebastian Hunter. Readers who met him previously in UNMASKING THE DUKEâS MISTRESS might be surprised to find that he is a man much changed. Both Hunter and Phoebe have been in my mind for a long time, and I can only hope Iâve done them justice in the telling of their story. The story is one with many secrets, all of them to be discovered along the road to love, and I hope very much that you enjoy it.
MARGARET MCPHEE loves to use her imaginationâan essential requirement for a trained scientist. However, when she realised that her imagination was inspired more by the historical romances she loves to read rather than by her experiments, she decided to put the ideas down on paper. She has since left her scientific life behind, retaining only the romanceâher husband, whom she met in a laboratory. In summer, Margaret enjoys cycling along the coastline overlooking the Firth of Clyde in Scotland, where she lives. In winter, tea, cakes and a good book suffice.
Previous novels by the same author:
THE CAPTAINâS LADY
MISTAKEN MISTRESS THE WICKED EARL UNTOUCHED MISTRESS A SMUGGLERâS TALE
(part of Regency Christmas Weddings)
THE CAPTAINâS FORBIDDEN MISS
UNLACING THE INNOCENT MISS
(part of Regency Silk & Scandal mini-series)
UNMASKING THE DUKEâS MISTRESS*
*Gentlemen of Disrepute
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
For Isobel, and her Glasgow.
The Tolbooth Gaol, Glasgow, ScotlandâJuly 1810
âBlackloch Hall?â Sir Henry Allardyce shook his head and the fine white hair that clung around his veined, bald pate wafted with the movement. Upon his pallid face was such worry; it tugged at Phoebeâs heart that her father, who had so much to endure in this dank miserable prison cell, was worrying not about himself, but about her. âBut I thought Mrs Hunter was estranged from her son.â
âShe is, Papa. In all the months I have spent as the ladyâs companion I have never once heard her, or anyone else in the household, make mention of her son.â
âThen why has she expressed this sudden intent to travel to his home?â
âYou know that Charlotte Street has been twice broken into in the past months, and the last time it was completely ransacked. Her most private things were raked throughâher bedchamber, her dressing table, even her â¦â Phoebe paused and glanced away in embarrassment. âSuffice to say nothing was left untouched.â Her brow furrowed at the memory. âThe damage was not so very great, but Mrs Hunter has arranged for the entire house to be redecorated. As it is, every room seems only to remind her that her home has been violated. She is more shaken by the experience than she will admit and wishes some time away.â
âAnd they still have not caught the villains responsible for the deed?â Her father looked appalled.
âNor does it look likely that they will do so.â
âWhat has the world come to when a widow alone cannot feel safe in her own home?â He shook his head. âSuch a proud but goodly woman. It was generous of her to allow you to come here today. Most employers would have insisted upon you accompanying her to Blackloch Hall immediately.â