Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,59

for you than I already have. Your father was angry enough to shout, Moira. My presence will cause trouble for you if I stay, so I won’t.”

Toying with the cuff of the narrow sleeve of her gown, Moira looked up into his face. “If my life is troubled now, it’s not your fault. You were just the catalyst that led to revelations of things I should know. Now that I’m aware of how vindictive Robert McStuart is, I can take precautions to avoid him, and men like him, in the future. It’s also better that I discover my father’s true feelings about my plans and goals. He’s never been overjoyed by my endeavors, but I didn’t realize how much he was against the school. When he found out I planned to rebuild, he withdrew his support. If I wish to build the school again, I shall have to find the money myself—and I shall.”

Gordon had been dazzled by her beauty and impressed by her bravery the first day he met her. He’d come to respect her kindness and generosity. But never had he admired her more than when she spoke of rebuilding the school with such heartfelt resolve. “I’m so sorry, Moira,” he said softly. “I should have insisted on leaving at once.”

“And put yourself at even more risk? No, Mr. McHeath, you suffered enough. It’s not your fault Papa doesn’t approve of the school, and if anyone is responsible for the withdrawal of his support, it’s whoever set the fire. I shall simply have to solicit donations from my friends. There are many in Glasgow who will surely contribute. I shall go there immediately, and begin.”

Glasgow. On the other side of Scotland from Edinburgh. “Have you no friends in Edinburgh?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Except me,” he offered, his voice hushed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“I should have guessed you would offer,” she said. She reached up to cup his cheek, her palm warm and soft against his skin. “You’ve proven to me that there are good, decent, honorable men in the world.”

“Then your experience with Robbie hasn’t soured you on men entirely?” he asked, his mind filling with a vision of the future that had been dancing on the edge of his consciousness, yet kept firmly on the fringes.

“Not entirely,” she said, lowering her hand, her eyes downcast, her cheeks pink with a blush.

Once before he had kept his feelings to himself, only to discover that he’d been harboring hopes that should never have been allowed to develop. If that was so this time, he had to find out. “Although these are hardly the circumstances I would have wished for, I cannot remain silent any longer about…”

In spite of his determination, his voice faltered. Yet if he were wrong, it would be worse than foolish to remain in ignorance. “About what is happening between us.”

She flushed and although she didn’t speak, he found her silence encouraging. If he were completely wrong, surely she would say something. “I hope I’m not wrong and that you do feel something more than affection for me,” he ventured.

Still she remained silent, red-faced, not meeting his gaze.

His former confidence in her silent response began to ebb away, replaced by dread. Was he wrong again? Perhaps, despite her response to his kisses and embraces, she didn’t feel as he did. Maybe his confession was even…embarrassing…to her?

“I had assumed you felt somewhat more,” he said. “Apparently, I was mistaken.”

She raised her eyes to look at him and in that instant, he knew, to the core of his heart and with the rekindling of all his self-suppressed hopes, that she hadn’t been toying with him, or leading him on. “No, Mr. McHeath, you are not mistaken,” she said. “Affection is much too weak a word for what I feel for you.”

“Not Mr. McHeath. Gordon,” he whispered, his heart soaring as he gently took her face between his hands and brought her close to kiss. Lightly, tenderly, he brushed his lips over hers as she closed her eyes and put her arms around him.

“Gordon,” she sighed before she kissed him with more fervor, angling her body closer.

Passion leaped into searing, vibrant life within him. His desire liberated, he held her in his arms, where she belonged. Where she would always belong. Where no other woman would have belonged in quite the same perfect way.

She was his equal, in intelligence, in drive, in desire. Having met her, he was completely certain he would never have been happy with a