Karen Hawkins - MacLean Curse - 2 by To Scotland & Love

Author:To Scotland & Love [Scotland, To & Love]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:35:15.854000+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

prevaricating. After her snowball attack, he’d imagined that she’d be contrite and would prettily beg his forgiveness, concerned about his good opinion and worried about his feelings toward her. Instead, she met his gaze without the slightest hint of apology.

His chest warmed a bit; her frosty attitude this last day had affected him more than he’d wanted to admit. He’d come to rely on Venetia in some ways, and being in her bad graces was not a position he enjoyed. She knew him better than anyone else, even his own family. She knew his likes, his dislikes, his family woes and successes, and about the family curse. And like a true friend, she accepted him, lumps and all. As he accepted her, appreciating her uniqueness.

Which was why last night, unable to sleep yet again, he’d decided that he couldn’t just walk away from the sparks that flared between them. He couldn’t.

She wet her lips nervously and said in a rushed voice, “Gregor, we need to forget what happened yesterday and go back to the way things were.” She peeped up at him through her lashes as she spoke.

“Surely you agree?”

“I agree that would be the best course of action…if it could be done.”

Her shoulders sagged. “We can’t go back?”

“Venetia, I don’t think you understand how these things work.”

“What things?”

“Desire. Passion. Lust.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice, “those things.”

“I cannot become unaware of you simply because you wish it or because it would be more convenient for us. We can ignore it, perhaps, though I’m not even certain of that.”

His gaze flickered to her hair, and he smiled. Every day seemed to find her with fewer pins until her usual neat hairstyle had softened, silky tendrils clinging to her ears, curling along the delicate line of her throat.

Gregor’s body tightened.This was what had changed. Now he saw Venetia as she actually was, not as he expected her to be. In London, she was the same little girl he’d met all those years ago, rebelling against her parents and laughing all the way. Over the years, she’d changed, but he’d been blind to it all.

Now he couldn’t look at her enough. Last night, tossing and turning in the small, lumpy bed, the squire’s deep snores punctuated by Ravenscroft’s sleep. murmurs, Gregor had been haunted with thoughts of Venetia. He’d told himself over and over that she was not for him, that the attraction would fade once they reached London—but some part of him whispered that it would be a waste to let that happen. That they should explore the tempting madness for their mutual benefit, if nothing more.

He’d tried to reason away that thought, to tell himself that Venetia was not a woman to enjoy trifling. But he could not deny the passion in her kiss, the way her lips had trembled beneath his, and how she’d unconsciously clutched him closer.

By morning, he’d been determined to speak to her. The only way to truly exorcise this madness was to embrace it, to follow it to its logical conclusion, whatever that was.

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