Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(16)

“Nine.”

Only a bairn. Duncan felt a sharp spur of rage directed at the woman who could thoughtlessly abandon her children like that. “And you stepped into your mother's shoes.”

Jeannie shrugged. “As much as I could, but I was young.” It was clear she didn't want to talk about it. “It was a long time ago, I hardly ever think about it anymore.”

He doubted that was true. He suspected she thought about it every day. “You never really get over a parent leaving you.”

The unintentional revelation took him aback. He never talked about the circumstances of his birth. But with Jeannie … it was different. He found himself wanting to share things with her. He sensed she would understand.

Her gaze sharpened. “Speaking from experience?”

It was his turn for the wry grin. “Perhaps.”

She was quiet for a moment almost as if out of respect for his memories. “You are close to your father as well?”

He nodded. “Aye. I'm fortunate.”

“From what I hear, I think it is your father who is fortunate. You've made quite a name for yourself already. He must be proud.”

The praise warmed him, probably more than it should. “Inquiring after me, have you?”

Her cheeks flushed adorably. “Of course not!” Seeing that he was teasing, she smiled and mumbled under her breath, “Arrogant jackanapes.” She tossed a loose piece of stone into the water. “If you are leaving, does that mean your mission has been a success?”

He lifted a brow.

“I assume it is you who was given the task of convincing my father.”

This time the insight surprised him. She had a sharp mind, more so than he'd realized. “I'm cautiously optimistic.”

“In other words ‘no,’ but you haven't given up.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You would make a horrible politician with such a blunt assessment.”

She returned his grin. “I fear you are right. My father is always telling me that I think with my mouth and that I don't necessarily need to say aloud whatever pops in my head.”

He grinned. “It's enchanting. But you are right about your father. He is not convinced, but I might have a new proposition for him. Perhaps a way to sweeten the bargain.”

Jeannie turned her face to his and his breath caught in his throat. The moon bathed her delicate features in an ethereal light. She was so young. Unspoiled. With her damp hair strewn around her shoulders, she could be a sea nymph or a mermaid.

He ached to touch her. To mold his hand against the soft curve of her cheek. To lower his face to hers and feel her lips move under his. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

“What kind of bargain?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes. “Perhaps an alliance by marriage?”

Her gaze scanned his face anxiously as if looking for a crack. “What are you suggesting?”

The excitement in her voice gave him courage.

He wanted to tell her what was in his heart. That from the first moment he'd seen her he knew that she was his. That he'd never felt like this before. That she'd brought laughter and levity to a life that had been consumed by duty and ambition. But words were the province of the poet and the bard; Duncan was a man of action. He would show her how he felt, show her for the rest of his life if she would have him.

He took her hand. It felt so tiny and soft in his. It was too soon, but he found himself asking, “Marry me.”

His heart, his breath, everything stopped as he waited for an answer, a sign …

The balance of his life seemed poised on an edge, waiting to tumble or soar at her decision.

Chapter 4

Marry me. Who would have thought two simple words could bring such happiness? Joy burst inside Jeannie in a cacophony of effervescent bliss. Slowly, her mouth curved into a wide smile and tears filled her eyes.

Gazing up into the darkly handsome face, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you.”

The look he gave her would be etched in her memory for all time. For one unguarded moment, he opened his heart, showing her the full force of his love.

Duncan Campbell was not a man to sing her ballads of love, or compose odes to her beauty, but the depth of his feelings was perfect in its simple purity. This strong young warrior loved her, and in him, Jeannie had found a solid future—he would never let her down.

He returned her smile, his teeth flashing white in the semidarkness. Gazing into the unworldly blue of his eyes, she had never felt happier.

And then, because nothing could seem more natural, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.

She sucked in her breath. The soft silk of his lips, the subtle taste of him, the warmth of his breath a shock of sensation. But by time she'd started to process what was happening, he was already lifting his head.

She blinked her eyes, dazed, feeling the swift disappointment of a bairn who'd been offered a sweet confection, given one taste, and had it quickly snatched away.

Reading her thoughts, he chuckled softly and cupped her face in his hand, sweeping his thumb over her bottom lip. “I've wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you.”

A thrill raced through her. “Do it again,” she blurted, before discretion could intervene.

His face darkened; heat simmered in his eyes. He lowered his mouth and kissed her again, this time harder, firmer, coaxing her lips with his.