Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,69
made a more important contract.”
“Contract?” she repeated, confused.
He reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Indeed. A very solemn verbal contract that we are to be husband and wife, and confirmed in a most exciting, if unusual, manner.”
She frowned, some of her enjoyment of this night gone. “Even if we don’t marry, I would never sue you for breach of contract.”
He kissed her forehead lightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of that. It’s just that I’m a solicitor and tend to think in legal terms. I give you my word I won’t sue you, either, should you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” she said firmly. Then she gave him a shy little smile as she remembered how wanton and wild they both had been, and how glorious he had made her feel, and she ran her hand across his chest. “Especially after tonight.”
His smile warmed her in more ways than one. “Then I trust I didn’t disappoint?”
“Not in the least.” She frowned. “I hope I didn’t.”
“Not in the least. In fact, I confess myself most pleasantly surprised,” he said, stroking her arm in a way that sent both shivers and thrills of excitement through her.
She wanted nothing more than to stay, to lie beside him and spend the whole night, but that was impossible, at least for now. So it was with reluctance that she moved away from him and sat up. “I have to go, Gordon, and you have to rest.”
He sat up, too. “My heart wants to argue against that statement, but my rational mind counsels me not to be foolish,” he said with wry acquiescence. “Besides, I don’t want to give myself a relapse. I want to be completely well as soon as possible.”
“I want you to be completely well as soon as possible, too,” she said as she got out of bed and picked up her discarded nightdress.
“Don’t put it on just yet,” he pleaded. “Let me look at you a moment longer in the firelight.”
“You make me feel like an artist’s model,” she said, slightly abashed as he studied her.
“I want to memorize the sight of you thus,” he replied. “You’re like a goddess—only better, because you’re mortal. I wouldn’t feel competent to make love to a goddess.”
“I suppose if you displeased a goddess, she could turn you into a pig or a cow,” she replied. “Not that I think you would disappoint,” she added as she returned his scrutiny, her gaze traveling over his naked, muscular body.
“You had better go,” he said huskily as he covered himself with the sheet, “or I may forget my rational wisdom and make love with you again.”
“If that’s a threat, it’s not a very good one,” she said, her body moist and ready again, her breasts tingling with anticipation of his touch.
His eyes flared with desire as he threw back the sheet. “Come here, Moira. Please.”
She did.
“I really must leave this time, Gordon,” Moira whispered as she slid out of his arms. “It’ll be dawn soon.”
Although she was right to be concerned, he sighed nonetheless, and not just because he was sorry she had to go. He was completely, utterly, wonderfully exhausted.
And completely, utterly, wonderfully happy, happier than he’d ever been—happier even than when he’d won his first lawsuit for a client. “I wish we could stay in this room all day. For a week—a month!”
“I do, too, but people would talk.”
How they would! He sat up as she rose from the bed. She was so beautiful, with her hair loose about her lovely body. Exciting and intelligent, too.
Perfect.
She pulled on her thin nightgown that did little to hide her luscious curves, then picked up her bedrobe from the floor and went to the window. “The moon’s bright tonight,” she noted, holding her robe against her breasts.
Standing in the moonlight, the rest of her body was visible through the sheer fabric, giving him quite a view—and arousing him quite thoroughly.
“If you don’t move away from that window, I’ll have no choice but to make love to you right where you are.”
She half turned toward him. “Standing by the window?”
“Yes, standing by the window.”
Indeed, the idea was almost irresistible. Almost, because they would be by a window and soon the servants would be stirring, including, he supposed, the gardeners.
“We couldn’t!”
“No, not here, I don’t suppose,” he agreed. “But someday, Moira my love… Not at a window, but otherwise…”
She gasped as if horrified.
“It’s not that outrageous,” he said, surprised she would find the