Page 78 of To Wed an Heiress
He wasn’t for sale. Not even to a beautiful heiress with the ability to plant herself in his mind.
He grabbed a clean shirt and the dressing gown he rarely wore and retraced his steps. Once outside the bedroom he told himself that the wisest course would be to put the garments in front of the door, knock, then disappear. However, that would be the behavior of a coward and he’d never considered himself one.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lennox knocked on the door and when she answered, he opened it and stared.
She’d done it to him again. Words flew from his mind, leaving him standing there with only one thought.
Mercy was naked.
He could tell that she wasn’t dressed beneath the bedspread, reason enough to excuse himself, turn, and retreat.
Her face was pink from the heat, her shoulders bare and creamy in the light from the fire. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in curls that made him want to bury his hands in them.
Strangely, he was reminded of the morning of the accident when she’d pointed her finger at him imperiously and demanded that he apologize.
He should do that right now.
Forgive me for my refusal to leave, Mercy.
Forgive me for feeling as if my feet were stuck to the floor.
Forgive me for all the thoughts racing through my mind right now, none of which I should be having. You’re a guest in my home and under my protection. You should not be subject to my libidinous thoughts.
But, oh, Mercy, you are so beautiful and it has been so long since I’ve been sorely tempted. I will remember the sight of you sitting in front of the fire until my dying day.
He closed the door softly behind him and walked across the room, placing the shirt and the dressing gown on the end of the bed. He had performed his errand. He’d done what he’d come to do. Now, now he should leave.
Mercy lifted her hand toward him, palm up.
His conscience shouted at him to leave. The weight of the past five years, the sheer solitary burden of it, however, urged him to stay just for a moment, to take her hand and sit beside her.
A beautiful woman was imploring him with a look. What man in his right mind would ignore such an invitation? Perhaps one who hadn’t been a hermit for years. Or one who was stronger, who hadn’t thought too much about her in the past few days.
“Mercy, this isn’t wise,” he said, the last dregs of his honor forcing the words from his lips.
“Will you kiss me, Lennox?”
When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his hand. “I love your kisses.”
“This isn’t wise,” he said again.
One of them had to be sensible. He wasn’t altogether certain it was going to be him. He could feel himself weakening even as she pulled on his hand.
“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t wise. Nothing about the situation has been wise. Nothing about you or me has been steeped in wisdom, has it?”
He found himself shaking his head.
“Must we be wise, Lennox? Is it altogether necessary?”
She tugged on his hand again and this time he knelt in front of her. “I know what my future is. I can almost foretell it. But tonight can be what I want it to be. And tonight I don’t want to be wise. I only want to be kissed.”
“That often leads to other things, Mercy. Especially dressed as you are. Or undressed.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
