Free As High as the Heavens by Kathleen Morgan Page B

of all, because she was totally convinced of his
undying love.

    That much Heather, at the very least, knew of herself.
Though the knowledge had come too late to help her
mother, Heather had seen the deep, soul-searing pain
Margery Gordon must have lived with all the years of
her marriage. And she had seen, as well, what wedding
the wrong man had done for her sister.
    Precisely because of those experiences, Heather knew
she had set standards that few, if any, men could ever
hope to meet. Standards Duncan Mackenzie most certainly didn't fit, whether as an illiterate Highlander or
the nobleman he truly was by right of birth.
    It was the God's honest truth, Heather well knew. Until
the man ceased to affect her at any level, she must remind
herself of that fact as oft as it took. Fine looks meant
naught. A seductive pair of green eyes, a roguish smile,
and an inexplicably compelling animal magnetism were
scant reason to surrender one's heart and soul to another.
Besides, three months was surely far too short a time to
lose one's heart to a man.
    It was all but a matter of time, Heather reassured herself as they headed down the hill toward the Mackenzies'
cottage. Her unsettling attraction to Duncan Mackenzie
would soon pass. Close contact in the ensuing months
would quickly dispel whatever romantic notions he had stirred within her. All she had to do was get to know the
man. Then her beloved logic and clearheaded thinking
would return, just as they always had before.

    She was a strange one, Duncan thought, watching
Heather Gordon draw up before his home and glance
about her. Her manner, though she took great pains to
mask it, was one of trepidation mixed with curiosity,
overlaid by a haughty demeanor he sensed was more
a screen to hide behind than a true aspect of her inner
self. How he knew this he wasn't certain, and that surety
was most unnerving.
    Did he perhaps desire for the woman to be attractive
in every way, that he saw what he wished so desperately
to see? The consideration gave Duncan pause. If it were
true, he had never acted in such a foolhardy manner
before-a manner that, in the bargain, was a dangerfraught way to risk one's heart.
    Dismounting, Duncan strode over to Heather Gordon.
Behind him, the others of their party began to follow
suit, climbing off their horses to stretch stiff limbs.
    "Here, lass," he said, lifting his arms to her, "allow
me to assist ye."
    She stared down at him for a long moment, her gaze
cool, assessing. Then she shook her head.
    "Nay. I'm a competent horsewoman and can well dismount on my own."
    Duncan grinned and stepped back. "Have it yer way,
then. I but wished to act the proper gentleman." He
angled his head, a roguish smile on his lips. "It is what proper gentlemen do, isn't it? Offer a lady whatever she
wishes?"

    Heather grimaced, then gave a brusque nod. "Aye."
She paused to slide down off her horse, then turned to
him. "But a gentleman also knows when to back away
and not press so hard."
    Duncan's smile never wavered. "Then I trust ye'll see
to that aspect of my education as well, lass."
    "Ye can be sure of it."
    Satisfaction filled him. He liked her spirit. For all her
fine manners and breeding, Heather Gordon had grit and
wasn't easily intimidated. She intrigued him in so many
ways-her pale golden beauty, her sharp intelligence,
her poise and proud spirit.
    More than anything he had ever wanted, Duncan
wanted to pull Heather to him and kiss her. He wanted
to pierce her prim and proper reserve and see what lay
beneath. Some instinct assured him a warm, passionate
woman lay just beyond that haughty reserve. A woman,
he realized with growing unease, he very much wanted
for his own.
    It was daft to consider such a thing. Why, he barely
knew the lass and, all jesting aside as to his purported
appeal to those of the feminine persuasion, he believed
in the sanctity of marriage and in saving himself for the
woman he would