The Scottish Companion
Page 30
She didn’t respond.
“A woman with optimism in her heart, despite the pain and the grief she’s known.” He looked straight at her. “A woman who believes in joy. A woman who isn’t afraid to live.”
“At one point I was,” she confessed. “But all we have is today, Grant. We might as well live it with great enjoyment.”
He smiled. “You would have liked Italy,” he said. “As it is, you’ll have to content yourself with Rosemoor.”
She raised her gaze to his. “No,” she said.
He reached for her, but she waved him back.
“I’ve become very quaint, you see. I crave normalcy in my life. A certain respectability. While being your mistress is exciting, it isn’t what I want.”
Grant smiled. “The whole of my life has been dictated by what other people might think. Strangers who had no inkling of the life I lead. My father’s sins are not mine, but for years I’ve been circumspect in all my dealings, as if being perfect might hide the horrible secret of the Straithern line.”
She didn’t say anything in response.
“I’ve decided that I don’t give a damn about propriety, just at the moment you do.”
She still remained silent.
“We shall play at being lovers secretly,” he said, “while on the surface we’re very proper. We shall be the very souls of propriety, I think. Or perhaps I will let it be known that I adore you, just so there is no confusion as to my feelings.”
“You will?”
He nodded. “I might even speak Italian to you in public. People will think I’m besotted, but only you will understand the true meaning of my words. Little secret phrases, I think. Outwardly, however, we shall be the epitome of all that is starched and decorous.”
She shook her head.
“Do you really think you can leave me?”
She nodded. “It is very difficult.”
“I think it would be damn near impossible,” he said, obviously annoyed.
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
“But we’ll never know, because it will never happen.”
“It won’t?”
He walked to her, holding out his hands. She placed hers within them and allowed him to pull her up into his embrace.
“Stay with me at Rosemoor. Make this a happy place, my dearest Gillian. Let it be known throughout Scotland that there isn’t a hint of grief or sorrow or loss here.”
He slowly put his arms around her.
“Do you not feel anything for me?”
“I love you,” she said, and watched as his face changed. He grew somber, his eyes warming as she spoke. “I love you enough to tell you my fears, and my hurts. I love you enough to be weak around you, and not protect myself so much.”
He pulled her closer.
“When you come into a room my heart beats faster,” she began. “I want to smile when thinking of you. I want to cry when I know you are in pain. I want to be your help mate, even though there are times when I want to bedevil you. I want a world with you in it. I want a place at your table. I want to roll over in the middle of the night and know that you are by my side. I want to feel delight in your arms, and laughter and tears.”
“Yet you don’t want me,” he said, frowning at her. His eyes, however, were a soft, warm gray. “If the position of countess isn’t enough of an inducement to stay, there is Rosemoor. You’ll be mistress of Rosemoor, but I doubt if a few bricks will change your mind.”
She pulled back. “Countess?” She began to blink rapidly, but the tears still fell, blurring her vision. “I don’t care about being a countess,” she said.
“We’ve got some jewels, I think. A few sapphires and rubies. Do you like jewels?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “I’ve never had many.”
“You could be my assistant. You’re a very good assistant. I’m rebuilding my laboratory.”
When she didn’t speak, he frowned at her. “Well?”
“All in all, I’d prefer the title of wife, instead.”
He smiled as he bent his head. “I think we can arrange that,” he whispered, and kissed her.
About the Author
KAREN RANNEY began writing when she was five. Her first published work was The Maple Leaf, read over, the school intercom when she was in the first grade. In addition to wanting to be a violinist (her parents had a special violin crafted for her when she was seven), she wanted to be a lawyer, a teacher, and, most of all, a writer. Though the violin was discarded early, she still admits to a fascination with the law, and she volunteers as a teacher whenever needed. Writing, however, has remained an overwhelming love of hers. She loves to hear from her readers readers—please write to her at karen karen@karenranney.com or visit her website at www.karenranney.com. Karen Ranney lives in Texas.
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Other Books By Karen Ranney
THE SCOTTISH COMPANION • AUTUMN IN SCOTLAND
AN UNLIKELY GOVERNESS • TILL NEXT WE MEET
SO IN LOVE • TO LOVE A SCOTTISH LORD
THE IRRESISTIBLE MACRAE
WHEN THE LAIRD RETURNS • ONE MAN’S LOVE
AFTER THE KISS • MY TRUE LOVE
MY BELOVED • UPON A WICKED TIME
MY WICKED FANTASY
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Be Sure to Read These Other
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BEWITCHING THE HIGHLANDER by Lois Greiman
THE DUKE’S INDISCRETION by Adele Ashworth
HOW TO ENGAGE AN EARL by Kathryn Caskie
JUST WICKED ENOUGH by Lorraine Heath
THE VISCOUNT IN HER BEDROOM by Gayle Callen
Coming Soon
IN MY WILDEST FANTASIES by Julianne MacLean
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE SCOTTISH COMPANION. Copyright © 2007 by Karen Ranney. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition August 2007 ISBN 9780061753640
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