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“What do you want me to promise, Miranda?”

“Miranda—a Brazilian bombshell or Shakespeare’s heroine?” She didn’t know enough about the real or mythical character to judge who’d be Hamish’s chosen companion tonight.

“Both. Carmen Miranda was a trailblazer, whereas Shakespeare’s heroine was beautiful and admirable.” He watched her over his glass, his eyes full of mischief, and something more.

“You make me sound exceptional.” She held her breath, waiting for his next words, wanting to be caught in the spell he was weaving.

“You are.” His voice was gruff. “A beautiful, admirable warrior for your family.”

Seduced by the simplicity of his words, Lela gave herself permission to live in the moment. Regret, if it came at all, could come later. If she hadn’t trusted him, she wouldn’t have come to Gozo with him.

What am I asking him to promise?

Not to touch her because she was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin and counting? To make love to her? Or to let the night bring what may? Mama’s eyes had lit with love and laughter when she’d told her children of their father’s courtship. Love was worth a risk.

“Get your sports bag. I’ll collect the key.”

“Put the drinks on the tab. I’ll meet you at the lifts.”

Lela tested her reaction, while she waited for the concierge. A tingle of anticipation, a flutter of the unknown, the slippery dip thrill of abandoning responsibility. When she’d filched the first large note from her father’s wallet as a ten-year-old, she’d felt anxious, guilty, afraid of being caught, but buoyed by her sense of justice. The excitement, the adrenalin high from executing such a daring, yet perfect solution, had been unexpected by-products of her impulsive decision. That sensation paled compared to the exhilaration fizzing like champagne bubbles through her system now.

She wanted Hamish Beauregard MacGregor.

He stopped her entering the room with a hand on her arm. “I want you to promise something.”

“A bit late to stipulate conditions,” she murmured, although her heart sped up, already prepared to accept whatever he requested. Her point of no return had been passed in the lobby when she’d surrendered to instinct and intuition.

“Vella family business is left outside the door.”

“Promise.” She offered him a smile unclouded by doubt.

Chapter Nine

The last time Lelahad shared a bathroom with a male had been before her second brother left home. The butterflies in her belly, the skittering pulse told her this was different, as did the awareness that on the other side of a flimsy wooden door was a man she respected, trusted, and who turned her insides to liquid heat with his crooked grin.

A new experience for her.