Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,26

what looked like a combination of delight and excitement, as if this was some sort of competition she was determined to win. In a way, of course, it was—but while he’d seen that reaction from some lawyers and merchants in similar circumstances, he’d never encountered it in a woman before.

Another example, should he require one, of what made this particular woman so different. And so fascinating.

And why he had to fight to keep his mind on the business at hand, as well as remembering he represented Robbie, not her.

“There is also the matter of his wounded pride,” he pointed out. “He may think settling for such a small sum is another wound.”

“I agree Robbie has a great deal of pride—much more than he deserves, so I don’t intend to reward him for it.”

“Whether you think his pride is justified or not, it is something that must be taken into account. He is a titled man, after all. I doubt he’ll settle for less than four thousand.”

“Perhaps he should remember his pride and his title the next time he starts drinking,” she countered.

Gordon couldn’t disagree, so he turned the subject back to the financial. “If you offer too small a sum, he may consider that as much of an insult as breaking your engagement,” he warned.

“I will not pay more than eight hundred pounds, and I consider that a gift.”

Robbie would surely consider that a pittance, take umbrage, lose his temper and drink even more. “Eight hundred pounds will surely not be enough. Indeed, it may make him think you aren’t taking this suit seriously.”

“I assure you, I do. It’s Sir Robert I don’t take seriously.”

“You should, my lady. He’s very determined in this matter. I think you should offer at least three thousand.”

“I am determined, too, Mr. McHeath—determined that he won’t get more than a thousand pounds, and that’s a thousand pounds more than he should. He should be delighted I’m willing to consider paying him anything at all.”

“My lady, I fear that won’t be enough to satisfy him.”

He saw the change come over her, and knew that she would go no higher even before she said, “We have haggled enough, Mr. McHeath. If he’d rather take this case to court than be reasonable and grateful for my offer, so be it. Good day.”

Whether he represented Robbie or not, he couldn’t let her go, not like that, so as she turned to leave the lane, he put a detaining hand on her arm. “Lady Moira, I appreciate your willingness to compromise and perhaps I’m wrong to say what Sir Robert will or will not accept. I’ll take your offer to him and inform you of the outcome.”

He couldn’t help it. He had to tell her how he really felt about the suit. “I regret my friend’s action in this matter, but I owe him too much to refuse to represent him.”

Her steadfast gaze held him as if there was a web binding them together. “What do you owe him?” she asked softly.

He wanted her to know. He needed her to know, to understand. “My reputation. My education. My career. When we were at school together, I stole some money to buy sweets. Not much, but it would have seen me disgraced and expelled. Robbie told the headmaster he did it. If he hadn’t, I would have had to go to a less prestigious school, wouldn’t have gotten the job clerking for as fine and reputable solicitor as I did, and likely wouldn’t be a solicitor myself. That is what I owe Robbie—certainly far too much to turn my back on him now, even though he’s…changed.”

She took hold of the lapels of Gordon’s jacket as if he was falling away from her, and her increasingly intense scrutiny seemed to bore into his soul. “Even if he helped you years ago, how can you represent him now? He’s a cad who seduces and abandons vulnerable young women.”

“Robbie’s been raised to believe that, as a nobleman, it is his right.”

“It’s not!”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “He should have resisted temptation.”

As he should be resisting temptation now. As he must, even though he gently cupped her shoulders. “You should go, Lady Moira,” he said softly.

Lady Moira nodded, but she didn’t move. Her whole body flushed with warmth beneath his steadfast, yearning gaze.

“Or I should go,” he murmured. “Somebody should go before…”

“Yes, before…” she whispered as he drew her into his arms.

This was a mistake, Moira told herself as he put his arms around her.