Boss Meets Baby(133)

Her admiration for Keir increased tenfold, because— he could endure such an ordeal and not show even by the merest glimmer of an impatient look or turn of phrase that he’d far rather be doing something else than wining and dining the local ‘great and the good,’ as he’d put it.

‘Stay with me.’ His voice lowered to a husky command as he briefly and urgently roamed her candlelit features. ‘I need you here…don’t desert me.’

There had been no dilemma about whether he should spend the night with Georgia or not. In the end, Keir had simply had to admit that he had zero resistance as far as she was concerned, and part of him had thought to hell with the consequences. Increasingly throughout the dinner she’d been all he could think about.

Oh, he’d done his bit. He’d discussed the house, the— gardens, the local politics in the community, and he’d smiled and been diplomatic. But after what the Colonel had said to Georgia Keir had made it very apparent that he would not tolerate any further speculation— about either her person or her presence beside him at the table.

Thank God the event was over. His well-fed guests were now on their way back to their various homes, their effusive and complimentary remarks as they’d left, about the house and the gardens, still ringing in his ears.

And leave it to the Colonel to have the last word. ‘Your father would have been proud of you, my boy!’ he’d— declared, as he’d unknowingly gripped Keir’s wounded arm and all but made him cry out with the agony of it. The comment had elicited an ironic grimace on its own merit, though. Keir doubted very much if anything he’d achieved at Glenteign would have made James Strachan proud—but quite frankly he no longer cared whether he would have had his father’s good opinion or not. The man was dead, and he was beginning to see that as far as the estate was concerned he could write his own history now that he was in charge.

Having told Georgia to go up to bed ahead of him, Keir now let himself into her room unannounced,— and saw straight away that she stood in the golden light of just one small bedside lamp, wearing the same distracting short, silky robe she’d been wearing the night he’d returned from NewYork…the night of the storm. His heartbeat quickened at the curiously— shy glance she gave him.

‘It’s got quite chilly tonight, don’t you think?’ she remarked.

‘I’ve got something that will warm us up.’ Keir held up the bottle of cognac he’d brought from the drawing room, along with two crystal-cut brandy glasses.

Approaching the bed, he placed the bottle and the glasses carefully down on the little oak cabinet beside it and pulled off his tie. The sound of the silk sliding against the stiff linen of his shirt collar was unwittingly sensuous to Georgia’s ears. Knowing intimately— what the impressively taut musculature beneath that expensive tailored shirt looked like, and remembering how his hard body had felt pressing down on her in bed, she knew she didn’t have a cat’s chance in hell of hiding the need that poured through her bloodstream right then.

Her cheeks burned so bright she must appear to him as though she had a fever.

‘The food tonight was wonderful, wasn’t it?’ she chattered. ‘And Moira did an incredible job of making everything look absolutely—’

‘Here…drink some of this.’

A glass of darkly golden cognac was put in her hand, and Keir’s long fingers briefly glanced against hers. Because she was so spellbound, Georgia lifted the glass to her lips and tasted some of its fiery contents without question. When the brandy’s burn reached her stomach and ignited there, her whole body was infused with the most delectable melting heat.

‘It’s delicious.’ Cupping the thick crystal tumbler between her hands, she glanced almost nervously at Keir.

After he’d whispered in her ear just as his guests were getting ready to leave that he intended to spend the night with her she’d hardly known how to get up from the table, because the sheer anticipation of his visit had rendered her limbs as weak as a lamb’s. Now face to face with him in the softly lit bedroom, the— gentle diffused lighting making his handsome features appear even more formidably compelling than ever, she knew she was utterly lost. Already, his gaze and his body—never mind his highly seductive voice—had made her incapable of refusing him anything. And she yearned to chase away some of the pain that she sometimes witnessed in his incredible blue eyes. Now that she knew some of the story of how that pain came to be there she craved that chance even more.

‘What have you got on under that robe?’ he asked her now, a dark eyebrow lifting ironically as he removed his jacket and then started to unbutton his shirt. ‘If you want to make an already enslaved man even happier please tell me it’s not very much…’

‘I don’t have anything on underneath.’

‘Really?’ With a slow, knowing smile, Keir moved towards her and took the glass of brandy out of her hand. Silently he placed it beside his own on the oak cabinet. When he turned back to Georgia he said huskily, ‘Open your robe…I want to see.’

Seeing the shy hesitancy on her face, Keir took pity on her. ‘Maybe this will help.’ He bent and switched out the lamp, so that the only light left illuminating— the room came from the silvery rays of the nearly full moon that filtered in through the open casement windows.