One Night with the Highlander (The Gilvrys of Dunross) Read Free Page A

with all the disturbing feelings rushing through her veins. Or suffer the painful squeeze of regret in her heart. Regret for something that never could have been. Her family had needed her to marry well. No matter the leanings of her heart, a charming but penniless second son would have been impossible.
    The housekeeper opened a door to reveal Lady Jenna and Gordon in a small snug room that looked out over a walled garden and the forest beyond. A bright sunny room painted cream and white. Books, cushions and bric-a-brac were scattered about in comfortable disarray. On the sofa sat Lady Jenna. Annabelle had forgotten how tiny she was. Her smile was warm, lighting her green eyes, and the sunlight turned her hair to a fiery halo around her face.
    Gordon rose from the adjacent armchair, his extraordinary blue eyes fixed on Annabelle’s face. Flames in ice. Blatantly sensual. The heat of that look drew her in, warmed her skin and left her trembling and breathing hard.
    A shock hit her hard. He knew about her past indiscretions. Someone had told him.
    Color rushed to her face in a hot painful tide. Spine straight, she swept into the room. “Lady Jenna. Mr. McLaughlin. How kind of you to receive me.”
    She lifted her chin, refusing to acknowledge her awareness of him as a predatory male.
    Lady Jenna bounced up off the sofa. “No. It was kind of you to call. May I offer you tea?”
    Annabelle glanced at Gordon. His expression was now unreadable, but his eyes did not warn her away. “Yes, thank you. I must apologise for coming alone. Mother is unwell.” Sickened by her daughter’s reputation.
    “Nothing serious I hope,” Lady Jenna said. “I will send some of Aunt...” she swallowed. “Some of Aunt Blackstone’s calf’s foot jelly home with you. It works wonders on the constitution.” Lady Jenna gestured to the sofa. “Come. Sit down beside me. I hope you do not mind that I decided we should take tea here rather than the drawing room, where it is dark and cold.”
    Annabelle glanced around at the worn comfort. “It is a charming room.”
    “And my aunt was not one for sitting around weeping over what cannot be undone,” Lady Jenna said rather defiantly.
    “No indeed,” Annabelle agreed, sitting down beside her hostess, feeling like a fraud. Mother was right. She should not have come. But it would only make her look worse if she fled.
    “Are you staying with your mother long?” Lady Jenna asked.
    “A few days only,” she said, her heart dipping as she recalled the weight of her worries back in Edinburgh. “And you?”
    “I go to Lady Carrick,” Lady Jenna said. “To prepare for my come out in the spring.” She smiled. “It was delayed when my aunt took ill. Not that I minded. She was always so very good to me.”
    How wonderful it must be to look forward to the future with such unaffected happiness. “Do you go to Edinburgh or London for your Season?”
    Lady Jenna smiled as she poured the aromatic brew into the cups. “Edinburgh, I believe. I need a husband right away. Until I am married, I cannot go home to Braemuir, and I have been away far too long.” She gave a bright little smile. “The prospect of a fine estate and a title should hurry things along, don’t you think?”
    Annabelle’s felt the stirring of compassion for the young woman, but what could she say? She had followed much the same path. “I am sure there will be many fine, eligible young men only too delighted to make you an offer.”
    She turned to Gordon. “And what about you, sir. Are you planning to set up your nursery?” There now, that sounded casual enough. The sort of thing a married woman might say to a young man with whom she held a passing acquaintance. Her breath sat like a hot hard lump in her throat as she awaited his answer.
    “I am no married as yet, Lady Merton,” he replied, his deep burr a gentle caress to her ear and his smile a delicious shiver down her spine. Nor do I expect to remain in Scotland for any