Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,51
her eyes. “We will no’ be talking about kissing. No’ ever. Why did ye come here, Duke? Let’s no’ pretend it was simply to bring me breakfast.”
“What if it was for the thing we’re no’ talking about?”
The kissing… Oh, to think he’d come all this way to lay his lips on hers. Nay! She couldn’t romanticize this or him.
“Then, ye really ought to go now.” She took another step away, hoping that it wasn’t so obvious how thoroughly he’d kissed her. Her lips felt swollen from his kisses; her cheeks still flushed.
He set down his cup and stared at her seriously. “In truth, I came to repeat my offer.”
“Which ye did. And I declined.” She straightened, realizing too late that doing so pushed out her breasts, and his eyes fell to gaze at the swells. Thank goodness for her sturdy wool gown, practically buttoned up to the neck. Alas, he didn’t seem to notice her sensible dress and instead appeared to be undressing her with his eyes. Curling her back now would only show she’d noticed the swift flit of his gaze, and she refused to give him that much, so she remained as she was, hating that her breath quickened.
“May I ask why?” he mused.
“We are no’ suited. I’m a busy woman, and I’ve no’ the time to think about romance.”
His brow raised on that last word, and she was hasty to correct herself.
“And by romance, I mean courtship. Besides, many other things are plaguing me—one major obstacle that would bar me from ever standing at the altar with ye.”
“Ah, are ye referring to your sister?”
Jaime licked her lips and nodded, trying to decipher how much to tell him about what she’d thought as she tossed and turned all night. He deserved to know that Gordie was his spitting image. That if Lorne wasn’t the child’s father, Gille might be. Unless Lorne had gotten blistering drunk one night and forgotten himself or what he’d done. But from what she understood of him, before and after the war, he was a man who rarely lost control, if ever. Even in kissing her, she felt the lion being held back by a chain, waiting to be unleashed.
He stepped closer to her, and she surprised herself by not retreating—at least not yet. The nearer he came, the more her body pulsed with a throttled craving. But thankfully, he stopped, leaving some space between them for her to breathe. “Do ye still believe me?”
Head titled up toward him, Jaime took him in. Lorne was so very tall and breathtaking. A gorgeous man, with a hint of something feral. She imagined when he did finally relinquish some of the control that he kept so wound up within himself, he’d be like a storm unleashing, destroying everything in its path. That made him a risk, didn’t it? Or extremely desirable and exciting. To be on the end of that unrestrained passion. Her pulse skipped a beat. For a woman with a life was as rigid as hers, as regimented, as stalwart, he gave off the barest suggestion of unbridled enterprises that she would never dare to cross alone.
Jaime licked her lips, contemplating how she would answer. Because she did still believe him, and he deserved the truth. But he also deserved to know what troubled her mind. “Aye, but there is something ye should know.”
“What is it?” Lorne’s brows knitted together with concern.
It was incredibly hard to meet his gaze. She didn’t want to see the pain that her revelation would no doubt cause him. How had her sister ever found him lacking? The very idea that Shanna had not been head over heels in love with the Duke of Sutherland was not only news to Jaime but shocking, too. For she had found him captivating from the moment he’d first come to their parent’s townhome to call on her sister.
But this wasn’t about Jaime or Shanna’s desire for the duke, but rather the mutual subject Jaime and Lorne shared—her nephew’s parentage.
“’Tis about the lad,” she finally managed to say.
“Shanna’s bairn?”
“He’s no’ so much a bairn anymore.” Jaime held up her hand near her shoulder. “He’s almost as tall as me now, even at barely eight years old.”
The duke’s face had hardened, and she couldn’t read the thoughts that were hidden behind his stare. “What about him?”
“He…” Jaime swallowed. She needed to spit it out and be done with it. “He looks just like ye, Lorne. Everyone thinks so.”