Morna reached out, stilling his hand. She quickly gave thanks that he was back in her life. This time, she wouldn’t let anyone separate them. “When ye disappeared, that’s what my da told me.”
“I didn’t disappear.” His deep blue eyes flashed with anger. “I sent you a message asking you to come with me to America.”
Her throat closed so tightly, she had to force the words through it. “I should have known it was a lie.” She brushed angrily at a tear traveling down her cheek. “I swear to you, Simon, I would have come. I’ve loved you since I first set eyes on you.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I should have listened to the voice in my head that told me to fetch you. Instead I allowed my foolish pride to think you’d rejected me.”
“Oh God, Simon. Never in a million years would I stop loving you.” She threw her arms around him, pulling him down to her.
His lips touched Morna’s. Gently at first, but long-denied desire surged within her, and she needed more. She clutched the back of his neck. Opening her mouth, she trailed her tongue along his lips, sucking the lower one.
Simon moaned. “God, Morna. I’ve missed you.”
Stretching out on the chaise, he half covered her as she explored. He tasted of finely aged, smoky Scotch whisky. She pressed one palm to his chest. It was so much harder than before. She wanted the waistcoat and shirt gone. “Where are you staying? I’ll come to you.”
“There is something I must tell you.”
His tone was so serious, her heart squeezed as if she’d beendunked in a cold loch. Surely nothing could keep them apart now. “What?”
Before he could answer, the door slammed against the wall.
“What the devil is going on here?” Cormac closed the door before striding toward them.
Morna struggled to sit up as Simon rolled gracefully to his feet. Her son, their son stopped and stared. His eyes widened in recognition. After all, the boy had been shaving for a couple of years now. “Who are you?”
“I’m—”
“Simon,” she begged, “don’t. Please, not here—”
“He has my face, my love.” He kissed her hand then turned back to Cormac. “I’m your father.”
His countenance flushed. “Ye mean I’m your bastard, don’t ye?”
“Not at all.” Morna was surprised at how calm Simon was being. “Your mother and I were legally married nine months before you were born.”
Morna was thankful she was sitting down. If not, she would have fallen over. Yet how could that be, and why hadn’t Simon said anything before? Why had he left her . . . ?Twice!“We cannot be wed.”
“Nevertheless, the fact remains that we are.” He motioned Cormac to a nearby chair, sat next to her, and held her hand as he met her gaze. “My only regret is that I didn’t know it until a few months ago.”
A throbbing had started behind her eyes. “I don’t understand. My father told me it wasn’t legal.”
A look of undisguised hate passed over Simon’s mien. “As he told me. Unfortunately for us and our children, he was more interested in the outcome he wanted than the facts. A couple of months ago in New York, I ran into a couple who were at the inn when we married. They asked about you, which led to a conversation regarding Scottish marriage laws. I did some research, and they were correct. Our marriage was and is legal.” He brushed his thumb over her brow, soothing the pain that had started in her head. “It amazes me how gullible and stupid I was.”
What a fool she’d been as well. “Ye weren’t the only one,” she said in her driest tone. Her heart ached thinking of all the years they’d lost. Disgust curled her stomach. The next time she saw Father, she would spit on him. If she ever consented to have anything to do with himagain. “I even told old MacDiarmid, hoping he’d not take me to wife. The old bastard just laughed.”
Cormac paced the small room—it hardly seemed large enough for father and son—and finally he stopped. “A fine mess this is.” He ran his fingers through his hair as Simon had done not long ago. “The question is, what do the two of you plan to do about it?”
Simon raised a brow, and in a deadly calm voice, responded, “I intend to claim my family.”
Kit made his way across the crowded ballroom toward Mary. As she had been years ago, she was surrounded by a group of gentlemen. However, this time nothing would stop him from claiming her.
“Mr. Featherton.” His hostess placed her hand on his arm. “Would you be so kind as to dance with Miss Innes?”
He shook his head and said what he should have done years before. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I have already engaged a partner for this set.”
Leading Mary out to the dance floor, he ignored other gentlemen as they muttered. He twirled her in his arms, being careful to keep the proper distance between them.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked.
