Page 42 of My Highland Rogue
Yes, he’d laughed. He’d greeted each day with enthusiasm, eager for that day to be a success. Something had always been missing, however. Maybe the essence of hope. Or Jennifer, being close to him.
Now he almost felt drunk, as if he’d imbibed an entire bottle of wine. Bubbles of excitement raced through his veins.
This was the woman he loved, had always loved, would always love. No one would ever know her as well as he did. No one would ever understand him like Jennifer. They had the rest of their lives to love each other, and that thought was both heady and exciting.
“I’ll come to you tonight,” she whispered.
“No.”
“No? Don’t you want me?”
“Don’t want you? I’ve wanted you every day since I first knew what it was to want a woman. How can you ask me that? But one of us has to be sensible.”
“Why?” She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her cheek against his chest.
“Jennifer.”
She stood and stepped back. “Then go. I wouldn’t want you to appear dishonorable to anyone.”
“You’ve done that ever since you were a girl,” he said.
“Done what?”
“Started a fight when you were in the wrong.”
She frowned at him. “I’m not wrong now. I’m annoyed at you. I’m irritated. And I am, if I must admit, more than a little hurt. I offer myself to you, and all you can say is I’m picking a fight.”
“I love you.”
That stopped her in midtirade.
He stood and joined her. “I love you and I don’t want to do anything to dishonor you.”
“And you think loving me would dishonor me?” She shook her head. “Never, Gordon.”
He dropped his head, his cheek against hers. “Here I am, struggling to maintain my honor, and you’re doing your damnedest to be a temptation.”
“Very well,” she said. “Will you, at least, join me for dinner?”
“All alone, just the two of us?” he asked. “Whatever will the servants say?”
“Do you care?”
“Not one jot,” he said, smiling.
She had a glint in her eye. He knew that look. Jennifer would be up to mischief. Or perhaps seduction.
Chapter Sixteen
Jennifer took her time dressing for dinner. She wore one of her newer garments, something Ellen had insisted she include in her wardrobe.
“Who am I going to wear new dresses for?” she’d said at the time.
“You never know what’s going to happen,” Ellen had responded. “You need to ensure that you have a wardrobe commensurate with any activity.”
“My activities consist of taking care of Adaire Hall. Occasionally, I’ll ride out to visit a neighbor. Or I’ll take a carriage to Edinburgh to see you. Beyond that...” Her words had trailed off to meet Ellen’s frown.
“You’re not on the shelf, you know,” her godmother said. “It’s still possible for you to find someone to fall madly, deeply, passionately in love with.”
