Page 9 of A Match Made in Heather

When the tip of his tongue licked slowly around the outer curl of her ear, a delicious heat shivered through her. She remembered the feel of his body surrounding hers, the smooth slide of his manhood between her thighs, the soft words of love he’d dared to whisper against her bare skin as he claimed possession of her and made her heart soar—

He took her earlobe between his lips and sucked, and a throaty moan tore from her.

His lips curled into a self-pleased smile against her ear. “I could have you right now,” he murmured.

A sickening shame crashed over her at wanting exactly that, and she slapped him. Hard.

For a beat, he froze. Then calmly, he lifted his palm to his cheek, where a red streak had already formed.

“I saidnever,” she repeated, shaking with both fury and arousal.

His hand dropped to his side, and he laughed. She glared at him as he stepped around her toward the door, her hands clenching into fists and her breath coming in furious pants. The devil had the nerveto laughat her!

“Then it’s going to be a long month, Arabel.” Flinging open the door to reveal Ewan and Mr. Davidson waiting impatiently in the hall, he glanced back at her and made a mockery of inclining his head in deference as he excused himself from the office. “Averylong month.”

Day Two

Good God.

Garrick glanced around at the once-grand entrance hall of Castle Highburn, hardly believing his eyes. It looked nothing like he remembered.

Broken windows gleamed in the sunlight, and jagged cracks scarred the walls. Sunlight had faded the red drapes to dull pink. Dust and cobwebs covered the chandelier, and the carved banister of the massive stairs looked as if it hadn’t been polished in years. The claymores that had once decorated the walls in mind-reeling geometric patterns to show off the power and influence of the Rowland clan were now in disarray, with several lying broken on the floor. Even the coat of arms hanging over the door had cracked.

Sadly, the outside wasn’t much better. During the ride up the drive, he’d noted a sagging roof, cracks in the facade, overgrown gardens . . . The whole place looked as if it might come tumbling down at any moment.

Yet in his mind’s eye, he still saw it as it had been when he first came here twelve years ago, when the house had been grand and its furnishings immaculate. When the Rowland name still evoked respect across the highlands. But now . . .

He hadn’t expected this.

Nor had he expected Arabel. Which had been the biggest surprise of all.

For ten years he’d cursed her, wondered about her, even dreamt about her . . . such dreams that would make a sailor blush. He did everything he could to purge her from his memory by charging into the fiercest battles and by bedding every woman he could. But there had never been any one else like her. No other woman had that same flame-red hair, those same piercing green eyes. No other woman had the same vitality and love for life that she possessed, certainly not the same stubborn temper. She was as untamed as the highlands and as beautiful to match, all wrapped in the sweet scent of heather. It had surrounded her like a cloud then, making him want to lose himself in her.

Apparently, he still did.

When he walked into the law office and saw her, she ripped his breath away. Arabel had always been lovely, but she’d matured into a woman, full and ripe . . . simply stunning. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Or for that bout of insanity that had him craving her so badly that he’d dared to lick her ear just to capture one small taste of her.

He grinned as he rubbed his cheek. It had been worth the slap.

Now he was expected to live with her for the next month. The only woman he’d ever loved and wanted to marry, yet who seemed to hate him even more now that her family had inadvertently made him an earl.

Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

“I’ve investigated the rest of the house.” His man Reeves walked into the hall with the proud bearing of a soldier, one that intimidated lesser men and set female hearts fluttering.

Not quite as tall as Garrick and with a slightly more slender build, Reeves had spent his own time on the continent charging into both battles and ladies’ beds until an accident removed most of his left hand. Unable to fight, Reeves had become Garrick’s aide-de-camp, and he trusted no man more in his life.

Since they’d left the army, Reeves still assisted him, now helping him with the responsibilities of the earldom. The two men never discussed it, but Garrick knew life for Reeves would have been a struggle if he hadn’t employed him. The same with all the other former soldiers he’d hired into his household staff.

War changed men, and civilian life could never change them back.

“What did you find?” Garrick prompted.

Reeves grimaced, his normally charming grin twisting downward. “Worse than we thought. The roof on the east wing has caved in. The west wing still seems solid, but most of the rooms have been shut off.” He shook his head, tugging on the leather gloves he always wore. “As far as I can tell, the place is barely standing. A good strong wind might blow it over completely.”

Exactly what Garrick had surmised himself from his exploration of the ground floor.

“If I were you, I’d let the gel have it and count myself lucky to have escaped.”