Page 34 of To Defy a Highland Duke

Marjorie’s eyes widened a fraction and color skated up the gentle slopes of her cheeks again, but she gave Dolag a warm smile.

How had Dolag known Marjorie was English?

He supposed it wouldn’t have been that difficult to find out.

The old woman glanced around and her face brightened. “I have a mind to fill my stomach now, lad.”

And with that pronouncement, she tottered down the length of the table gathering those foods she fancied into her tartan, then, humming to herself, wandered from the hall.

For the most part, his guests had turned their attention back to their forgotten plates and abandoned conversations. Keane intentionally avoided looking in the Kennedys’ direction. He had no desire to see whatever mocking or derisive glances they sent his way.

Leaning down, he spoke softly near Marjorie’s ear. Her lemon and rose fragrance wafted from her hair. “Marjorie, might I have that word with ye now?”

He forced his lips into a serene smile and, trying to ignore his ward’s probing gaze swinging between him and Marjorie, he pulled her chair out. Bethea had indeed grown up and possessed a woman’s intuition, as did her sister.

“Certainly.” All lithe grace, Marjorie slipped from the seat, once more drawing the attention of more than a few guests. With admirable aplomb, she kept her focus on him, though in a deferential manner that no one could fault.

For the first time, he noticed the top of her coppery head reached his shoulder, and he was a tall man. Why something so trivial should cause a tightening in his belly, he couldn’t fathom.

We fit well together.

Aye, and he’d like to explore just how well they might fit together in other ways too. When they were both naked.

He leisurely surveyed Marjorie’s attire. Her gown’s ice-blue fabric complimented her flaming hair.

Fire and ice.

Aye, he’d seen both sides of Marjorie Kennedy. The self-contained, cool widow and the passionate siren who’d stoked the flames of his desire. He preferred the sizzling woman he’d embraced in the gallery.

Keane thought to offer her his arm, but, after considering their rapt audience, thought better of it. Enough logs had been tossed onto the fire of conjecture as far as he and Marjorie were concerned. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back. “My study is no’ far.”

She angled her head, curiosity darkening her rich brown eyes. “Is something amiss?” she asked, in a voice meant only for his ears. The huskiness of her tone caused his body to stir in ways most inappropriate in the presence of others.

He longed to hear her call his name in the throes of passion.

“Nae.” Sending a reserved look around the hall, he silently asked her to wait before asking any more questions. What he had to say was for her ears alone.

After the briefest of hesitation, she followed his lead and nodded. With the aplomb of a duchess, she fell into step beside him, her satin skirts rustling slightly as she crossed the stone floor.

Mere inches separated them. With every shallow breath, every irregular heartbeat, he fought to rein in his arousal. To wrestle the foreign feelings burgeoning within him for this extraordinary woman under control. And with each footfall echoing on the floors his ancestors before him had walked, he acknowledged this was a battle he would not win.

A battle he didn’t have any desire to win.

Yet, seizing her in his arms and pinning her to the wall while he showed her with his mouth and hands and body what he couldn’t say—was afraid to say—wouldn’t gain her favor. Not when a guest or servant might come upon them, and her reputation was too important to taint.

Not just hers, but her wee daughters’ too.

The sins of the fathers—or mothers—and all that.

Hadn’t he experienced firsthand the repercussions of his father’s sins?

Nae, when Keane took Marjorie Kennedy to his bed, he’d take his time and explore every last inch of her creamy skin. There’d be no hurried coupling, but a long, leisurely mating.

To distract himself from the lust heating his blood and weighing heavily in his loins, he silently rehearsed what he wanted to say. When he’d awoken this morning, in those few moments before life’s burdens intruded upon his thoughts, the truth had struck him with such clarity that he’d collapsed back onto his pillows.

Then, what surely must’ve been a ridiculous grin had split his face.

He wanted to make Marjorie his in every way.