The Prodigal Hero by Nancy Butler

Author:Nancy Butler [Butler, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2000-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

MacHeath was heartily glad of the small crisis that had torn him away from Alexa’s arms. Things might have gotten out of hand in a very short time if that sail hadn’t come swinging toward them—he’d been nearly mindless with desire. Thank God he’d gotten some control back now.

That she was willing, he had no doubt. Willing to kiss him, willing to be his advocate, perhaps even willing to share her life with him. In the precipitate manner of females since the dawn of time, she was probably already planning their future together.

All because of that foolish infatuation she felt for him. It was clear that as a child, she’d made him into a sort of demigod. It was equally clear she had carried that childlike hero worship into her adult life.

Ah, but there had been nothing childlike in the way she’d faced him in Gable’s barn. She’d confronted him and his wretched infirmity like a woman of maturity and compassion. It had taken more than just pluck to do that, to overwhelm the enormous barrier of his shame. He now realized he had to rethink the depth of her feelings for him. The notion that she might truly be in love with him made him feel something akin to elation.

Which he promptly squelched.

He reminded himself that his own feelings for Alexa were strictly superficial. Which was a damned difficult thing to do, considering the way his heart had been misbehaving ever since she’d put her arms around him in the barn, with an expression of such promise in her eyes.

He thought back to that precious interlude they’d shared in the attic bedroom. He’d never felt so contented, leaning there on her bed. He hadn’t even wanted to touch her; just watching her, seeing the emotions play over her face, had been utterly satisfying. He hadn’t ever felt like that before, not with any woman. It almost frightened him.

Yet, the plain truth was, his feelings for her were immaterial. Even if he was able to convince her father of his innocence, even if he managed to regain his honor, he had nothing to bestow on a wife. No home, no status or rank, not even his own name. He could never go back to being Simeon Hastings—the name was sullied in his mind. He’d spent most of his adult life as MacHeath, and so he would remain, but it was not a name worthy of Alexa Prescott.

He had never before considered taking a wife, even when he prospered in the smuggler’s trade. His life then was too full of risks, and too much of his time was spent at sea. He’d had as many women as his appetites required whenever he was in port—on either side of the Channel.

But now he found himself wishing for more than a female to warm his bed. He wanted a companion, someone to share his days as well as his nights, who would soothe him and challenge him and make him laugh. A woman whose eyes promised to protect him from all hurt and scorn.

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