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“A draw,” Malcolm repeated.

Och, not this again!

James’s eyes were stark. Hopeful? Or was this merely another opportunity for him to best his brother? Davina was uncertain.

Thankfully, she was rescued from the awkward circumstance by Lady Aileen. “Come and dance with me, James. Yer father claims he’s too tired,” Aileen said. “It must be all the rich food he’s eaten.”

James had no choice but to agree, though his scowl let them all know that he was not pleased. Davina and Malcolm joined a circle of dancers, moving gracefully to the lively, bouncing reel. Out of the corner of her eye, Davina could see James and his mother in another group of dancers, but the need to concentrate on her steps made her turn away.

Malcolm led her to the outer circle for the final part of the dance. Just before the music stopped, he caught her hand and pulled her toward one of the long tapestry panels that hung from the rafters.

Too breathless to speak, Davina followed, though she squeaked with protest when he thrust the tapestry hanging aside and pulled her behind it. The small alcove was barely wide enough for them to stand, which forced them very close to each other.

Moonlight poured in through the long, narrow window at the top, casting a romantic glow around them. It was the perfect spot for a lovers’ tryst. Or a marriage proposal.

Davina’s heart sank with dread. She opened her mouth to object, but Lileas suddenly appeared. She waved at Davina, giggled loudly, handed her father a bouquet, then ran out.

“I wanted a bit of privacy to give ye a small holiday token,” Malcolm said, extending his arm. “These are fer ye.”

Davina’s wariness vanished as she beheld the gift. A dozen perfectly formed white flowers with silvery green foliage were tied with a wide satin ribbon. The flowers resembled a teardrop with the leaves wrapping around each other at the base of the stems.

“Fresh flowers in winter. I’m nearly speechless.”

“Do ye like them?”

“Aye, very much. They’re so delicate, so beautiful.”

“They are called snowdrops. Rare, but not impossible to find, if ye know the right places to search. Thankfully, there has been just enough sunshine these past few days to bring them to life.”

Davina bowed her head to sniff the blooms. They had a faint, sweet smell that bespoke of the promise of spring. More pleased than she could say, Davina lifted her chin. Her words of thanks died on her lips as she saw the smoldering gaze in Malcolm’s eyes.

She could feel her heartbeat echoing in her ears.Saints preserve me, what have I done now?

“Goodness, I must get my lovely flowers in a vase of water,” Davina said hastily. “And I should like to give ye my gift. ’Tis but a small token of embroidery that I hope ye—”

“Davina! Ye know what I want to say.” He lifted her hand to his lips, his expression turning serious. “Will ye do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, my, there’s no need fer ye to feel obligated to ask! I dinnae believe that yer father was truly serious when he suggested that I marry into the clan,” she said, trying to pull her hand away.

“The McKenna never says anything unless he means it.” Still holding her hand, Malcolm took a half step closer, all that he could manage in such a tight space. “’Tis the best option fer ye and good for clan McKenna. But there’s more. Surely, ye realize that I’ve a genuine affection fer ye, that can easily lead to something more.”

Davina raked her gaze over him, startled to realize that if her heart was free, she might have considered the match. Her fear of men—well, certain men—had diminished that much.

Whether he meant to or not, Malcolm had helped her release some of her fears, had helped her venture forth from her self-induced exile. For that, she would always be grateful.

“I wouldn’t be a very good wife,” she answered honestly.

“Lileas’s mother was a proper wife, a simple, uncomplicated lass. After we married, she decided her only purpose in life was to please me. She consulted me on nearly everything she did and never took any action without first receiving my permission. If I was not here, she reluctantly made her own choices based on what she thought I would do.”

“She sounds like a paragon of wifely virtue.”

“Some might say that.” His eyes flashed with regret. “I treated her with honor and respect and as much patience as I could manage. But the sad truth was that she was more child than wife. Too needy, far too eager to please, lacking an original thought or opinion of her own.”

Davina finally succeeded in freeing her hand. She hastily crossed herself. “What a dreadful thing to say about the dead.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “I mean no disrespect. I merely wanted to be truthful with ye.”

“Then I shall return the favor. I would make ye a terrible wife, Malcolm. Truly.”