WTF? Why had she even mentioned such a thing? Maybe it was time to stop reading paperback romances and start reading thrillers or horror novels instead. Lea could feel a hot flush of colour flooding her cheeks and bent down to straighten the items in her basket to disguise it.“Of course not, are you insane?” No. Of course not. Her voice was part laugh, part gasp, and it came out shamefully high and tight. Her? His bride of convenience? No way! She wouldn’t be a convenient bride for anyone, much less Dave fucking-playboy-Borthman.A strange silence crept from the far corners of the room, stealing oxygen particles, stilling dust motes, stirring possibilities...Dave walked back to where she was hovering over her cleaning basket, his footsteps steady and sure. Step. Step. Step. Step. Lea slowly raised her gaze to his inscrutable one, her heart doing a crazy tap dance in her chest. She drank in the landscape of his face—the ink-black prominent eyebrows over impossibly blue eyes, the patri

The frown on Lea’s brow deepened. “So, who will your heir be? Or will you eventually leave Brathellae to a nephew or niece if, after all, Mary has two?Dave hadn’t gotten to thinking that far ahead. His sole goal had been rescuing Brathellae from being auctioned off to settle his sister’s doing all the things in the world to make him a responsible husband. Marrying to save the estate was a big enough step; siring an heir was a giant leap he wasn’t sure he was ready to even consider. Yet. He gave one of his carefully rationed smiles. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me with that?”Her cheeks burned a fire engine red, and her plump, rosy lips flattened to a thin, disapproving line. She rolled her eyes in exaggeration and even shook her head, like it was the most absurd thing to do. “No way in hell, I'll help you with that.” Her tone was as starchy as a prim and proper schoolteacher’s.“Only joking.” It was no joking matter, but he refused to think about having a child. Hadn’t he done

Dave spent longer than he needed to choose a wine from the well-stocked Brathellae cellar. He remembered the bottle of vintage champagne he’d selected when he’d gotten engaged to Susannah. How excited he’d felt, how ready he’d felt for the commitment he’d made. He had imagined himself to be in love, and she was in love with him. He had been Lea’s age—twenty-six. Susannah had been two years younger, with a host of issues he had been completely oblivious to until it was too late. Mary had compelled him to settle down as soon as he could. With hindsight, he could see now how many signs he’d missed about the suitability of Susannah, even his own readiness for such a permanent commitment. He’d had no way of knowing how that night of celebrating his engagement would end less than a year later, in her death. How could he have been so ignorant of the demons she’d battled on a daily basis? What did that say about him? It said he wasn’t relationship material, that’s what it said. Or, at least

Dave gave her hand another quick squeeze in time with the on-off movement of his lips, in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile. A smile that didn’t reach high enough to take the shadows out of his eyes. But then he let go of her hand and sat back in his chair and picked up his water glass and drained it, placing it back down with a definitive thud.What on earth was that?“Finish your dinner. We have a busy day tomorrow meeting with the lawyer to organise the legal paperwork. Rather than drive, I’ve taken the liberty of organising a flight from Inverness to Edinburgh.” His business-like tone and abrupt change of subject were disquieting and left her with far too many questions unanswered.She sighed. He was so near yet so far away, so very far away."Okay, no problem.” Lea wanted to know more about his relationship with his ex. She had idolised them as a couple, seeing them as a match made in heaven. Feeling jealous of the love they’d shared, hoping one day someone would love her in the sa

Dave saw his guests out and came back to where Lea was sipping a glass of champagne on one of the sofas overlooking the ocean view. If he closed his eyes, he could take himself back to the moment of their kiss at the ceremony. Damn it—he didn’t even need to close his eyes. He could still taste the milk and honey sweetness of her mouth—he could still feel the thrum of lust deep in his body. He wasn't supposed to feel those emotions, he was supposed to make things civil and businesslike, but he couldn't help himself.He was relieved that he was good at concealing his emotions because that kiss had rocked him to the core. He hadn’t wanted it to end. He had lost track of where they were and why they were there. All he’d cared about and craved was the smooth, soft, sweet delicacy of her mouth moving against his. The shy playfulness of her tongue had sent a rocket blast of need to his groin. Triggering a need that was still humming in the background—a low, persistent hum he was doing his le