The Homeless Heiress. Anne Herries
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him, would never leave him. It had made him the man he was, harsh, stern, living only for his work.
The girl was an interruption, nothing more. Yet she had touched something that had been dead, something deep inside. For a moment as she stood there smiling down at him, he had wished that he had the strength to take her in his arms and kiss her until those wonderful eyes turned smoky with desire. It was ridiculous, for, even had she not been a lady, he was as weak as a kitten. However, she had stirred his heart in a way that no one had for years—and he found that he could not simply desert her.
He sighed and closed his eyes.
There was nothing much he could do for the moment. It would be a few days at the least before he could think of getting up, let alone taking a long journey.
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