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‘I’m freezing.’
‘I’ll warm you, I promise.’ He slid his hand under the blanket, closing it over her breast. With nothing but the soft chemise between them he felt the warmth of her flesh and the hard peak pressing against the heart of his palm, spreading fire through his body.
‘You’ve missed me,’ he murmured.
‘It’s cold,’ she countered, but her voice was uneven, the laughter fading.
‘No, you missed me.’
Her breath shuddered out of her.
‘Yes. Horribly. I need you to love me, Benneit. Please.’ Her hand covered his and he bent to touch his mouth to hers, capturing the sweet spring scent of roses. For the first time in his life he felt at peace.
‘It will always be my pleasure to please you, mo chridhe. Always and for ever.’
* * *
If you enjoyed this story
be sure to read the first book in
The Lochmore Legacy miniseries
His Convenient Highland Bride
by Janice Preston
And check out the next books
A Runaway Bride for the Highlander
by Elisabeth Hobbes
Secrets of a Highland Warrior
by Nicole Locke
Keep reading for an excerpt from Miss Fortescue’s Protector in Paris by Amanda McCabe.
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Miss Fortescue’s Protector in Paris
by Amanda McCabe
Prologue
Miss Grantley’s School for Young Ladies—1888
It seemed like an ordinary day. Not completely ordinary, of course—it was the day families came to visit at Miss Grantley’s School for Young Ladies. Lessons were suspended and games of tennis and croquet were played on the wide green lawns, tea served in shady groves, while teachers were dispatched to answer parents’ anxious questions about their daughters’ progress.
The red-brick Georgian mansion that housed the school gleamed in the bright spring sunshine, as if the weather was specially ordered for the day, and girls streamed in and out in their fluttering white dresses. Laughter was light and musical on the warm breeze.
Emily Fortescue twirled her tennis racket as she took in the whole pretty scene. It was her last spring at Miss Grantley’s. In only a few weeks, she and her friends would graduate and scatter out into the world to find their destinies. She knew what surely awaited her best chums, Lady Alexandra Mannerly and Diana Martin—marriage to a suitable gentleman, a place in society. For Alex, the daughter of a duke and the goddaughter of the Princess of Wales herself, a high place indeed was expected, despite her shy reservations. She was beautiful and connected. Diana, too, came from a respectable family, with her father retired from the India station, and could be expected to find someone of similar stature, a life helping her husband in his career, even though she truly wanted to be a writer.
But what lay ahead for Emily?
She held up her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. She studied the families who were gathered around the tea tables, who strolled the garden paths, mothers arm in arm with daughters, fathers peppering the teachers with questions. But her own father, her only family, was not there. He seldom was.
