Love Me Forever Read Online Free PDF Page B

and a barrel-wide chest, all tightly wrought in muscle rather than excess flesh.
    “Instead of gawking, lass, why dinna you step aside tae let me in?”
    His voice was deep, rumbling, and surprisingly lyrical in its lightly accented Scottish brogue, but at the moment, the tone was quite curt. He was a man who didn’t like being gawked at apparently. But how could anyone help doing so? Kimberly had never seen anyone that tall, let alone that handsome—well, with the possible exception of the Duke of Wrothston—and she doubted anyone else had either.
    She was so flustered she didn’t speak or move, and when she felt the tickle on her upper lip that suggested her nose wasn’t going to wait for that handkerchief she’d been after, she automatically lifted her arm to wipe her sleeve across the area. It was a no-no of the worst kind, a mistake a child would make, not a grown woman, and she didn’teven realize she’d done it until she heard him snort.
    Her embarrassment was made a hundred times worse by that sound. And it was followed by his hands attaching to her waist and physically setting her out of his way.
    But her hot cheeks, now as bright as her nose, went entirely unnoticed, due to the Duchess of Wrothston and the newcomer finally seeing each other, now that his path was cleared. Kimberly, still gawking at him, immediately noted his delight at seeing the duchess. Pleasure and joy fairly oozed out of him, his smile brilliant, the laughter back in his light green eyes. She expected him to dance a jig at any moment.
    Megan St. James, on the other hand, was not. “Good God, the Scots reaver!” she said with a hand drawn up to her chest. “You haven’t come to rob us, have you?”
    His smile turned abruptly sensual, and it had the oddest effect on Kimberly, sort of like a mild punch in the gut, just enough to make her lose her breath, but not enough to hurt. And it wasn’t even directed at her.
    “If you’ll be letting me steal your heart, darlin’, aye, that I have,” he replied, then, “Faith—the bonniest lass in all of England living under the same roof wi’ my Aunt Margaret? I canna be that lucky.”
    Megan was shaking her head in denial after hearing that. “ You’re Margaret’s nephew? Impossible. We can’t be that unlucky. The relatives Margaret gained through her marriage are MacGregors, not Mac”—she paused to try and remember the name he had told her so longago—“Duell, wasn’t it? Yes, Lachlan MacDuell, you said you were.”
    “Och, now, you dinna expect a reaver tae hand o’er his real name, d’you, when he’s in the process of reaving?” He asked that with an unremitting grin. “Nay, I’m a MacGregor, the MacGregor, actually, present laird of my clan—and the Lachlan was correct. ’Tis pleased I am that you remember.”
    That was still blatantly obvious. He couldn’t stop grinning. Also obvious now was Megan’s displeasure at this unexpected turn of events.
    “This won’t do a’tall, MacGregor,” she warned him. “Devlin will never permit you to stay in his home. He didn’t like you one little bit, if you’ll recall.”
    “Devlin Jefferys? What’s he got to do with Sherring Cross?”
    “Perhaps the fact that he owns it?” she said a bit dryly, before she explained. “And Devlin isn’t a Jefferys. Like you, he also had a fondness back then for using names that weren’t his own.”
    The man suddenly looked appalled. “Wait a moment, you dinna mean tae say your blasted Englishmon is my aunt’s grandnephew, Ambrose St. James?”
    “Shush, he really hates that first name of his, and yes, he most certainly is.”
    Now he groaned. “Och, please, darlin’, say you didna marry the mon.”
    “I most certainly did,” Megan huffed.
    His groan turned into a growl, which abruptly ended with another smile and a shrug. “No matter. I’ve surmounted worse obstacles, that I have.”
    Megan’s eyes narrowed on him. “If that meanswhat I think it means, you can forget