Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,72

it started to move and he frantically reached for something to hold on to.

He found Red’s leg. Like a drowning man, he grabbed it and held on for dear life.

“Let go! Damn you, let go!” Red shouted as the ladder swayed like a drunken seaman on shore leave and he felt himself being dragged toward the edge.

There was a scream, a shout, a crash and a moan.

And then there was only silence.

Wearing only his trousers and shirt, leaning his head wearily on his hand after what felt like the longest day of his life, Gordon sat in the blue bedroom.

Had that poor beast been left behind by the vandals who’d attacked him, or were they still in the vicinity, waiting to do more mischief or even harm Moira?

Thank God Moira was leaving for Glasgow, even though he had no idea how long it would be before he saw her again.

At least his side had stopped aching….

The door to his room opened and Moira slipped inside, dressed in that same soft bedrobe and thin nightdress, her bountiful, beautiful hair undone and loose about her shoulders.

She let her robe fall from her shoulders as she crossed the room toward him and he hurried to meet her halfway.

“My Moira,” he murmured as he gathered her into his arms and held her close.

“Gordon,” she whispered as she raised herself on her toes to kiss him. “Take me to bed, Gordon. Take me to bed and love me and let me forget what’s happened today, for a little while at least.”

“Gladly,” he replied, only too happy to do as she asked.

Because not only was it a joy to love her, he wanted to forget, too.

When Moira opened her eyes, a ray of sunshine was coming in through the narrow opening between the closed drapes.

That wasn’t what woke her. Nor was it the singing of birds in the garden, or the cocks crowing, or the lowing of cows as they waited to be milked.

It was the chambermaid laying the coal in the blue bedroom’s hearth. Moira’s breath caught—until she realized that she’d fallen asleep on the far side of the bed behind Gordon and was thus hidden from the maid’s view.

She should have gone to her own room immediately after they’d made love—wonderful, glorious love—but she’d been so sated and so satisfied, so comfortable and secure, she hadn’t wanted to hurry away. So she’d asked him instead about his family and nestled against him as he told her of his deceased parents and their hopes and dreams for him, and the sacrifices they’d made for his education that gave him such an appreciation for her efforts to open a school. And, she had realized, put him in thrall to the popular Robbie when he was a young impressionable lad desperate to make friends at school.

She told him about her mother, who’d taught her at home until her death, and then her days at school. And the times she got to go to the warehouses with her father, and how he let her roam around and climb like a monkey—her happiest memories, until she’d met Gordon.

Afterward they’d lain in companionable silence. She’d intended to ask him about his legal education, but she’d drifted off to sleep instead.

It was a long, torturous wait for the maid to finish her task, made more tense by the fear that Gordon would wake and speak to her, or roll onto his back, or somehow reveal her presence in the bed.

At last she heard the maid rise. But instead of leaving at once, she continued to stand by the hearth. What on earth for? Moira wondered, until it occurred to her that she might simply be admiring Gordon. The sheets only covered his lower torso and legs. What woman wouldn’t be tempted to take in such a view?

She felt Gordon’s body tense and his breathing quicken. He must be awake, too, but he wisely didn’t move, or she hoped, open his eyes.

At last, however, the maid gathered up the coal scuttle and brushes, and went out the door, closing it behind her.

Moira let out her pent-up breath as Gordon turned toward her, a wry smile on his handsome face. “That could have been most unfortunate.”

“Could have been, but wasn’t,” she said, kissing him lightly. “Nevertheless, I must go. My own maid will be coming to my room, and if I’m not there, she’ll wonder why. She might sound an alarm and start searching for me after what happened yesterday.”

Although Moira was determined