The Duke's Perfect Wife (Highland Pleasures #4)

“You need to stay far away from me, Eleanor Ramsay. You say you don’t need protection, but that is exactly what you do need. From me.”

“You need to stay far away from me, Eleanor Ramsay. You say you don’t need protection, but that is exactly what you do need. From me.”

"I’ll not be your perfect wife, Hart Mackenzie, obeying you because it’s my duty. I’ll search until I find you, and I’ll make you stay this time. I swear this."

"I want everything. To be your lover in all ways. I want to come to your bedroom every night and teach you things that will shock you. Best lock your door, El, because I don't know how long I can stay away."

"What Hart did was about trust, not pain - Hart promising the most exquisite joy to the woman who surrendered to him absolutely."

"He could unwind his cravat and use it to gently tie her wrists. Or maybe to blindfold her so that she wouldn't know what pleasure he intended for her. He wanted to strip everything from her-gown, corset, lift her to the desk, spread her across it, and lick her from her throat to the glory between her legs."

El, I’ve missed you. I’ve died a little every day without you.

Next came Ian and Beth. Ian sat in the chair, his kilt draped over his knees. Beth stood regally beside him in her dress of Mackenzie plaid. She held Belle in her arms, while three-year-old Jamie perched on Ian’s lap. The camera caught Ian looking, not at the lens, but up at his wife, his face soft with happiness. Beth was looking back down at him, his fingers on her hand. A beautiful portrait.

Lady Eleanor Ramsay is the only one who knows the truth about Hart Mackenzie. Once his fiancee, she is the sole woman to whom he could e

Lady Eleanor Ramsay is the only one who knows the truth about Hart Mackenzie. Once his fiancee, she is the sole woman to whom he could ever pour out his heart.

Hart has it all--a dukedom, wealth, power, influence, whatever he desires. Every woman wants him--his seductive skills are legendary. But Hart has sacrificed much to keep his brothers safe, first from their brutal father, and then from the world. He's also suffered loss--his wife, his infant son, and the woman he loved with all his heart though he realized it too late.

Now, Eleanor has reappeared on Hart's doorstep, with scandalous nude photographs of Hart taken long ago. Intrigued by the challenge in her blue eyes--and aroused by her charming, no-nonsense determination--Hart wonders if his young love has come to ruin him . . . or save him.

"You have always been so afraid you'd become like him, and he made you fear that. But you're not a bit like him at all. You have a temper, yes, but you're generous and strong and protective. Your father was none of that."

"He'd been devilishly handsome, teasing and tender, and he'd courted her with a verve that had left her breathless. She'd fallen in love with him quickly, and she wasn't sure she'd ever fallen out of love with him."

"And stop giving me that innocent look. You're not innocent at all. I know you."

"Yes, I'm afraid you know me a bit too well. Makes talking to you dashed difficult sometimes."

Eleanor had a little smile on her face, making a joke of it, and Hart couldn't breathe. She always did this, walked into a room and took the air out of it.

"For God's sake!" Hart sprang to his feet.

Everyone at the table stopped and stared at him, including Ian. "Do I have to be made a mockery of in my own house?"

Mac leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. "Would you prefer we made a mockery of you in the street? In Hyde Park, maybe? In the middle of Pall Mall? The card room at your club?"

A hand reached out of a dark passage and landed on Hart's shoulder. Eyes the color of Mackenzie single-malt regarded Hart in the dim light of Reeve's lantern. Hart looked back at Ian Mackenzie, face smudged and bearing lines of exhaustion. Ian put both hands on Hart's shoulder, and his fingers dug through Hart's coat.

"I found you," Ian said, his voice low and fierce. "I found you." He put his arms around Hart, and Hart for a moment sank into the strength that was his youngest brother. "I always find you," Ian whispered.

"What are you afraid of, Hart? You're a beautiful man with a beautiful body, and I wish to photograph it. It's the same as when my father finds the perfect specimen of a mushroom. Nothing for it but he must record it for posterity. Or at least for his own enjoyment. Besides, he often eats the mushroom."

Breathing hurt. Hart had said her name like that on the day in the summerhouse in Scotland when he'd laid her down and kissed her in the sunshine. He'd told her that he wanted her and exactly how he'd wanted her. Eleanor had laughed, pleased with her power. Eleanor Ramsay, bringing the great Hart Mackenzie to his knees.

Foolish, foolish Eleanor. She'd never had power over Hart, and that very day, he'd proved it.

He was proving it again. He kissed down to her décolletage, his breath heating her bare skin, his hair like rough silk. She found her unbound hand coming up to stroke his hair--she hadn't told it to do that.

He would unmake her. Again.

"Aye, you've got a fire in you, lass, that is true. A temper." The delicious Highland accent broadened as more whiskey went into him. "And a fire of another kind. I've not forgotten that."

"Surrender. That was what Hart Mackenzie always wanted, she realized. For others to surrender to him, to let him be their master. Not because he wanted to punish them, or to have his own way, but for their own good, because he wanted to take care of them. Those who didn't understand that dashed themselves to bits on him."

Overall
I love the Mackenzies so much that there's no way I wouldn't like this book. If we used half-points, I'd rate it at 4.5 -- not quite as intense as The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie nor as steamy as The Many Sins of Lord Cameron.

If you like those books, however, you'll definitely enjoy this one, and I strongly recommend that they be read in order.