Page 112 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“No, thank you.” Laurel sipped from a dainty cup. “Auntie, where will we go now?”
“To London. At first.”
Laurel reached for another biscuit. “And from there?”
“A voyage to America will be quite the thing to cheer us both.” Could Laurel hear the uncertainty in her words?
The very thought of leaving Connor carved a fissure in Johanna’s heart. But there was nothing to be done about it. Laurel needed to be among family. Back at home—back in Philadelphia. Laurel’s grandmother and grandfather longed to embrace the child they’d seen only once, when the child had been an infant.
Laurel’s mouth settled into a little pout. “When we get to America, may I have a kitten?”
“A kitten?”
Her expression grew solemn. “Mama promised me a pet. But then…then she took ill…”
Johanna chucked her affectionately under the chin. “I’m positive that can be arranged, darling.”
“So it’s a cat the wee lassie wants,” Connor said, hunkering down by the fire. When had he entered the room? He’d bathed and donned trousers and a white shirt that emphasized his well-muscled arms and shoulders. “Independent creatures, to be certain.” He slanted Johanna a smile. “I can see where that would suit yer aunt.”
Laurel’s nose twitched. She rubbed at it with the back of her hand. “I’ve already decided on a name. Would you like to hear it?”
Connor made Laurel the center of his attention. “Aye, lass.”
“Piper.” Laurel’s smile lit her face.
“Piper?” Johanna repeated. “Why?”
“I heard bagpipers while Papa and I stayed at an inn. They wore kilts and their music was…happy. Just as my kitten will be.”
He studied the child with thoughtful eyes. “Ye like it here…in Scotland?”
“Yes.” Laurel seemed to ponder the word, her brow furrowing. “But I will love America as well. Auntie Jo and I get along famously. Mama always said we were so very much alike.”
“Indeed,” Johanna said. Was it her imagination, or did Connor’s eyes take on a gleam at Laurel’s words?
He stood, stretching his long legs, and raked a hand through his hair. The familiar, spicy scent of his shaving soap filled Johanna’s senses, and her heart tripped a bit faster. “Johanna, I need a word with ye.”
He shot Brenna a speaking glance. She gave a small nod and turned to Laurel. “Would ye like me to show ye how t’make shortbread, dear? It’s delicious and more than a bit of fun.”
Laurel’s serious countenance brightened. “May I, Auntie?”
“Of course.” Johanna uttered the words easily, even as the prospect of being alone with Connor sent her heartbeat stuttering.
Brenna led the child from the room. The door squawked on its hinges as it swung closed behind them. Johanna’s brain registered the sound, even though her own pulse threatened to drown out the noise.
“Ye’re a brave lass. Ye took the path that brought the bairn back to ye.” Towering over Johanna, Connor enfolded her hand within his long, warm fingers. “Promise me ye won’t go taking more risks.”
“I highly doubt I’ll ever again be called upon to do anything so adventurous,” she said, rising. “We both know I had no choice.”
He tugged her closer. “Johanna, there is always a choice.”
Her name in that deep rumble of his was so very sweet, but she had to keep her head about her. The memory of his skin against hers was all too fresh. Too decadent. Too tempting.
Her skirts shimmied around her as she wriggled out of his light hold. She needed that separation, that slight distance that made the difference between coherent thought and wanting nothing more than to melt into his arms.
Ah, but the smell of him was enticing. She wanted to bury her face against his strong, sturdy neck and inhale his essence, wanted to wisp her fingertips over the feathering of dark hair on his chest.
Wanted to give herself to him. Night after night.
