“I ken you have been constant in my thoughts this last year. That is more than passing fancy.”
“Perhaps because I was the bird that got away?” Megan suggested.
“I’m no’ so grasping that I mun have everything I have a wee desire for.” Lachlan’s tone had passed mere frustration now, as if he considered himself gravely insulted.
Megan’s sigh was loud as she plucked a book off the shelf and climbed down the ladder to face him. “This is all redundant, Lachlan. How many times must I repeat that I love my husband? No man could make me happier than he does. So whatever you feel or think you feel, I would appreciate it if you would henceforth keep it to yourself. You’re here to find a wife, and a rich one as I understand it, who will solve the distressed state your stepmother left you in when she absconded with your inheritance. It’s high time you set your mind to that, don’t you think? And find one who isn’t already in love with someone elseandalready happily married.”
Kimberly had heard enough, too much actually, and if she was noticed now by either of them, she would likely expire on the spot. So she stepped quickly to the side of the door, putting the wall between her and the occupants of the room. Then she ran for the stairs further down the hall, something she would never ordinarily do since it wasn’t the least bit ladylike, but that was an indication of just how upset she was.
But when she reached the upstairs hall, she stopped and leaned back against the wall there as the full magnitude of her predicament caught up with her. Her groan was audible as she closed her eyes and banged her head back against the wall a number of times.
Lachlan MacGregor wasn’t going to marry her, he was still in love with Megan St. James.Whyhad she thought that had ended? Just because he’d kissed her, and more than once? Just because he’d made love to her? How naive could she be? One of the oldest professions in the world supported the contention that a man didn’t have to be in love with a woman in order to make love to her.
Apparently he’d merely toyed with her, perhaps out of boredom or even the frustration she’d witnessed, because he wasn’t making any progress with the woman he really wanted. And from what she’d just overheard, it didn’t sound like he ever would make any progress there. Yet where did that leave her? Socially ruined and without a husband—well, notreallyruined, with no one but her and Lachlan aware of it. Not yet anyway. But there were two things that could happen to change that real quick.
She might not have known much about lovemaking, how to go about it or what to expect from it. But it was nearly universally known that babies were created from that sort of thing. Not always, but sometimes. And she would have to face thatsometimesand hope it didn’t visit her from her one indiscretion.
If she could be that lucky, she would at least have time to face the second thing that could see to her ruination in quick order. If and when she received a proposal of marriage, she would have to own up to what she’d done before she actually accepted. She would have to tell the gentleman that she had—that she was no longer—well, that she wasn’t quite as pure as she ought to be.
She wasn’t so cowardly that she would keep it secret and hope he wouldn’t notice. There had been a major scandal in her town a few years back because a groom had been able to tell, in some mysterious way, that his bride wasn’t pure. He’d let the entire town know it and insisted on an annulment because of it. So men were able to somehow know.
But if she owned up to her own disgrace, her gentleman could either be generous and accept her as she was, or be furious and let all and sundry know about it.
She could just imagine her father’s reaction if that happened. He would either disown her outright in his fury, which was highly possible. Or he would have to literally buy her a husband, and she wouldn’t have much choice in the matter of who if it came to that.
And then that voice she was coming to know so well asked her, “Are you hiding up here, Kimber? Or is it daydreaming you’re doing?”
17
Kimberly slowly opened her eyes. That her head was still dropped back against the wall allowed her to see Lachlan’s face immediately. He was wearing a tender expression as he looked down at her. That, more than anything else, gave her the strongest urge to slap him soundly.
Of course, she wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Slapping wasn’t the least bit ladylike and…
She moved away from the wall with her arm swinging in the direction of his face. Her palm connected with his cheek sharply, loudly, and it was wonderfully satisfying to see the imprint it left behind. Definitely worth the hot stinging she now felt on her hand.
But she was surprised that she’d done it. Lachlan was, of course, even more surprised. And before he recovered, she almost slapped him again, just because hewassurprised and hadn’t expected it, when his behavior practically demanded it.
But she managed to restrain herself now, and instead said with all the contempt she could muster, “You are despicable beyond redemption. Stay away from me, MacGregor, or I will not be responsible…”
She didn’t finish. She was about to cry, and as far as her pride was concerned, it wouldn’t do at all for him to witness the emotional state he’d brought her to. So she retreated, running down the hall instead. Running again—she didn’t even notice this time.
When she reached her room, she dropped back against the door, her hands fisted and pressed hard against it. She didn’t want to cry. She wasn’t the sort who condoned self-pity. But she had so much emotion welling up in her. At least half of it was anger, however, and she concentrated on that to hold back the tears.
And then she was shoved forward as the door opened behind her. The gall of him!
“This is my room, MacGregor, not yours! How dare you enter here again without permission?”
His expression was thunderous. He’d obviously recovered fully from his initial surprise, and felt himself undeserving of her attack. In fact, his temper was on the border of exploding.
“Again?” he said in a barely contained roar as he slammed the door shut behind him. “Are you implying I wasna invited in previously?”
“You were most certainly not!”
For some reason, he hadn’t expected that answer, and it had him frowning, as well as lowering his tone to tell her, “Then you’ve a short memory, lass, if you dinna recall your behavior last night.”
“What has my behavior to do—”
“Everything,” he cut in. “You didna refuse my kisses, Kimber, you returned them full measure. And your eyes fairly devoured me all evening long. D’you think I’m so inexperienced in these matters that I canna recognize an invitation when I receive it?”
