Page 31

It was the kiss on the steps of St. Giles’ that was to blame. He might have stood a chance if Moray hadn’t goaded him into it. When he’d kissed her, all of the futile hopes he’d kept locked away for years had come rushing out. And when one kiss hadn’t been enough, he’d done it again, unable to resist the softness of her lips and the spark of fire he’d always suspected she’d possessed.

When at last they’d parted, he’d known what a mistake it was because immediately he wanted to kiss her again and again. He’d wanted more than just innocent kisses on the cathedral steps, but he couldn’t have that. Not without breaking the very promise he’d made her and leaving himself open and exposed to every bit of hurt she might unwittingly rain down upon him. He’d gone down that road once before as a younger man. He knew that pain.

That was the reason he’d left her looking expectant at her door on their wedding night, but he hadn’t taken into account the unpredictability of Ina.

He’d loved her from the safety of their friendship for so long that he’d lost his mind at the sight of her when she’d presented herself to him in her room, her dressing gown gaping open and revealing expanses of beautiful skin that glowed in the firelight. She was every dream that had tormented him since that day five years ago when he’d realized he was in love with his best friend. When he’d seen the flicker of doubt in her eyes when she’d turned to retreat, he’d known that this was his one chance. He hadn’t been a strong enough man to deny her. After years of wondering what it would be like if ever he got the chance to taste her, he’d wanted to drink her in.

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a dolt.”

It had been foolish to think that just because he’d locked his heart away in a vault he could survive one night with her in his bed, and now he was running.

The hurt in her eyes had been impossible to miss, but he couldn’t stay. Couldn’t indulge his desires any longer. Not sleeping with only a couple of doors between them, in a bed paid for with her family’s money. He had to put not just a dressing room door between them but an entire city.

The carriage pulled up to the Lothian’s familiar building at 108 High Street. He braced himself, knowing the questions he’d get about why he wasn’t enjoying his wedding night, but at least there he could find sanctuary.

Inside, he nodded to the printers and began to climb, every step weighing heavily on him. Through the door of Moray’s office, he spotted his friend with his omnipresent pencil in hand, papers spread all around him. This was normal. This was expected. He could piece himself back together here, where there were no reminders that he’d married the one woman who was too valuable to risk losing.

Moray looked up at his knock, his brow furrowed, but the man waved him in nonetheless.

“Many people come through that door, but you were the last man I thought I’d see tonight,” Moray said.

“Do you mind?” Gavin asked.

His friend waved to an empty chair. “Be my guest. Whisky?”

Gavin dropped into the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d better not. I’ve had enough.”

Moray’s brows shot up. “Well, I’m certainly going to have one, because there must be a story behind this. Why are you not with your beautiful bride?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gavin said. “Where’s Eva?”

Moray returned to his desk with the liquor. “Taking a day off for once, at Catriona’s insistence. I think the wedding put her in a festive mood. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, because no one who says they don’t want to talk about it actually means it.”

“I do,” Gavin said.

“Was the lady unwilling?”

He shot Moray a look. “No.”

“Were you unable?”

He snorted and swigged at his whisky. “Please.”

“A journalist has to examine all of the possibilities,” said Moray with a grin.

“Well, it wasn’t that.”

His friend grunted.

“I just had to get out of the house,” he said with a sigh.

“What’s wrong with the house? I thought you liked it,” Moray asked.

“I do. It’s beautiful. Perfect even. There’s a study for me and a studio for Ina. The drawing room is large enough without being too grand. There’s a table for twelve in the dining room, and I’m sleeping on the best sheets I’ve slept on in years.”

“If you were sleeping,” said Moray.

“It also all would’ve been completely out of my grasp to provide for her,” he said.