Page 41 of Reckless Desire

“Miss Ramsay, lest you forget,” Sir Stirling said, “you were kidnapped by Lord Hensley, as well. You have been alone for several hours in the company of not one, but two men, today.”

“No one on Skye will care,” she said.

Lord Newhall squeezed her hands. “Is there no chance you might look favorably upon my suit?”

She pulled her hands free of his grasp. “You do not have to sacrifice yourself. I promise you, I am happy to return to my quiet life on Skye.”

“Sacrifice myself? What in God’s name makes you think I am sacrificing myself?”

“You will one day be an earl. I am a girl born out of wedlock.”

“You are of noble birth,” he said. “You are a Flower of Scotland.”

She rolled her eyes. “Curse the day I learned that.”

“Beware, young lady,” the bishop warned.

She bit her lip. “Forgive me, Bishop.”

Lord Newhall stepped closer. She froze when he placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. Their eyes met.

“Miss Ramsay, while I will admit that being married to you means risking my life on a daily basis, I would not have it any other way.”

She stared. “What?”

He leaned closer. “I want to marry you.”

Kenna narrowed her eyes. “Lord Hensley said the same thing.”

He blinked, then threw back his head and laughed.

“What is so funny?” she demanded. “He did say he wanted to marry me. As you know.”

His laughter vanished and her mouth went dry when his eyes darkened. “I pray he did not kiss you as I did.”

Her mouth fell open. “Of course not. I would have brained him had he tried.”

“I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that,” he drawled.

“What?”

Silence reigned.

Then she understood the implications of her words.

“Nae, you do no’ understand. I didn’t mean— It is just that—”

The bishop approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Could it be that you have a tenderness for Lord Newhall?”

“Not that kind of tenderness,” she retorted.

Lord Newhall’s brows shot up.

“I mean, you are very nice. But marriage. You cannot want to marry me.” She leaned toward him. “Did you not hear me say that I am a bastard?”

“Not true,” Sir Stirling said.

Kenna threw her hands in the air. “Sir Stirling, I know my own parentage.”