Page 10 of Hope in the Highlands (Seduced in Scotland #1)

Hope wasn’t sure what she expected when Jared McTavish invited her and her sisters to the games, but this was not it. Several white tents dotted the valley below the pyramidal mountain ridge known as Carn Eige. The ridge broke out of the green ground like a rock had been pressed through torn suede, and the shadows of the clouds above danced across the various shade of heather, grass, and moss.

The sheer size of the mountain had made Hope gawk when the carriage transporting her, her sisters, and Rose came out of the glen. All sorts of carts and camps lined the road, set up for the games that would take place during the day before the bonfire that evenin g . Hope found herself once more wondering if she would see Graham.

When he had left the ball at Elk Manor, he had been furious and Hope couldn’t quite understand it. She was sure he had been upset by something she had done, but he did not give her the opportunity to clear things up. She had seen him the day before yesterday from her bedroom window at Lismore Hall and had gone down to speak with him, but by the time she had reached the apple tree, he had gone.

Hope glanced up to the sky. Massive white clouds that looked like kingdoms all their own rolled against a blanket of blue, blocking out the sun. She began to worry about tilting over as the carriage climbed the base of the mountain up the steep slope, and she was grateful when the vehicle stopped.

“The day could not be finer,” Rose said, peering out of her window as the carriage stopped. “It’s a great day for a race.”

“It’s a shame Aunt Belle couldn’t make it,” Faith said.

Belle insisted Rose accompany Hope and her sisters since she could not attend. Belle had an appointment with Dr. James Hall, a doctor who was currently working as a police surgeon. He had grown up in the area but had moved his offices to Glasgow. Since his visits north were few and far between, Belle had few opportunities to see him, and thus she had explained that she couldn’t possibly attend the race. She all but forced her reluctant secretary to accompany her nieces in her place.

“Be careful where you step,” Rose said as the coachman opened the door. “These slopes are filled with holes and rocks. You will turn an ankle if you aren’t careful.”

The terrain this far north was rougher than the clean walking paths in London, and Rose had advised Hope and her sisters to wear their riding habits and sturdy boots. Hope was wearing a new Basque-style outfit she had bought for that year’s season. Instead of a gown, the Basque was two separate pieces, a dark, emerald jacket paired with a black skirt trimmed with the same emerald hue. Each sister wore wide-brim hats instead of bonnets, tilted forward as was the fashion.

“About that, Rose,” Hope said. “I didn’t see any sort of track or downs path. Where will this race take place?”

“Right there,” Rose said, pointing into the distance as she came up to stand next to Hope. Hope turned to see the expanse of land before them. “The men will start from that pole, a little away from the tents. Do you see it? They start by running a foot race down the slope, although they don’t always complete it on foot.”

“What do you mean?” Hope asked.

“Well, it’s a bit steep, and there are rabbit holes all over. They’re likely to trip and roll down if they can’t keep their footing.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Grace asked.

“Foolish is more like it,” Rose said, her tone one of displeasure. “Jared McTavish nearly broke his leg last year.”

“Goodness,” Grace said. “Then why do it?”

“Because they’re men,” Rose said, as if that explained everything. Hope smiled despite herself. “Once they reach the bottom of the slope, they’ll cross that river and get on their horses. Then they’ll ride to the tree line down there.” Rose pointed down the valley.

“That far?” Faith said, gazing off into the distance.

“Aye. Then they’ll race around that first lone oak tree before heading back over the river. Whoever makes it back first wins.”

“And what do they win?” Hope asked.

“A favor from a fair maiden,” a deep masculine voice said behind her. Hope whipped around and found herself face to face with Graham.

The sun shone behind him, outlining him in a way that made Hope’s eyes water and her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t spoken to Graham in nearly two weeks, and her strong reaction to his presence surprised her. He towered above her, dressed in his kilt again, like some ancient knight in a painting, and she had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop it from dropping open.

Good heavens, what was wrong with her?

“S-surely not,” she stuttered while Rose and her sisters had the oddest expressions on their faces.

“Well, not in the last two hundred years, but once upon a time …”

Hope let out a tittering laugh but quickly stifled it, worried she was coming off like some sort of fool in front of him. She needed to say something intelligent and witty to regain the upper hand again.

“I hope you don’t break your neck,” she blurted out and then swallowed. “Running, I mean. Well, I mean, falling off your horse, too. Really, there are so many ways you could break your neck. Either way, I hope you don’t.”

Silence followed. Panicked, she turned to her companions. Rose and Grace were covering their mouths, presumably to hide their smiles, while Faith mouthed, ‘what is wrong with you?’ For the life of her, Hope did not know.

Graham smirked, though his brow knit together and tilted his head.

“Thank you for those words of encouragement,” he said just as Jared and Jeanne joined them. Jeanne wore a cream and emerald striped gown and her red hair was pinned back in a smart, practical hairstyle, though several strands seemed to be falling out of place already.

“Fine day for a race, innt?” Jeanne asked.

“Aye, fine a day as ever there was,” Jared said, grinning at Hope. “How do you do, Miss Sharpe?”

“Very well, thank you,” Hope said, trying not to blush at his pointed interest in her when he should have addressed all the ladies present. “Are you competing in the race, Mr. McTavish?”

“Aye, I am.”

“Rose was just explaining to us how it was done.”

Jared’s gaze flickered to Rose for a moment.

“Miss Rose would be the best to explain it. She has been coming to see us race for nigh five years now, haven’t you?” Jared asked, but before he let Rose answer, he continued. “Who will you champion, Miss Sharpe?”

“Champion?” she asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, each competitor has a lady who he races for,” Jared explained, smiling at Graham. “Innit true, Graham?”

“Aye,” Graham said, seeming a bit stiffer than he had been a moment ago. “The McTavishes are prone to romantic gestures.”

“Ack, it’s not romantic. It’s historic.”

“Like the knights of old.” Hope’s heart beat faster as she observed Graham. The expression he gave her was not sweet or romantic. It was scorching. To avoid it, she quickly turned to face Jared. “It is a bit romantic, Mr. McTavish.”

“Aye, and Miss Sharpe is quite a romantic herself,” Graham said. “Aren’t you?”

Hope’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She wasn’t sure what Graham was playing at, but she felt annoyed as she wondered if Graham was mocking her.

“Is that so?” Jared asked, smiling.

“Leave Hope alone, you two,” Jeanne said, coming up to hook her arm into Hope’s. Her green eyes seemed to match the emerald color of her dress. “They’re both teasing you. None of the men take favors from anyone. They race for no motive other than their own desire to be the biggest jackass of the highlands.”

Hope’s mouth fell open at the curse while Faith snickered and Grace slapped her hand to her mouth. Jeanne led Hope and the rest of the ladies away towards a pointed pavilion.

Chairs had been set up to support the eldest attendees, who sat surrounding several tables. Two gigantic oriental rugs had been laid out, overlapping one another. Massive cushions, pillows and the like had been strewn in a way that reminded Hope of an illustrated book of the Rubiyat by Omar Kyaamann. Guessing that they would be expected to sit on the ground, she let Jeanne pull her down to the spot with the most oversized pillows.

“We’ll be able to see just about everything from here.” Jeanne nodded to the others to sit. “You know, Jared nearly broke his leg last year.”

“That’s what Rose was saying,” Hope said, looking back at Rose.

“Aye, she would know,” Jeanne said with a sly glance at the freckled blonde. “She’s been in love with Jared ever since she first laid eyes on him.”

“I have not, Jeanne!” Rose said hotly but quietly, ensuring no one overheard. She leaned forward and continued in a low voice. “Do not say such things.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“It isn’t. I’m not in love with him,” Rose insisted, though her cheeks shone bright red.

“Fine, have it your way,” Jeanne said, clearly not believing her. She leaned closer to Hope and added quietly, “Don’t let her fool you. She’d travel to hell and back just to please my brother.”

“And he doesn’t feel the same?”

“He doesn’t even know Rose is alive, the laggard-head. Here he has a perfectly sweet, smart lass hanging on his every word, but because everyone hangs on his word, he doesn’t realize that she’s in love with him. I was going to fix that, you know, until you showed up.”

Hope shifted slightly to face Jeanne.

“What do I have anything to do with it?”

“Well, Jared’s not stopped talking about you since the ball. I think he’s set his sights on you.”

Hope shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“Oh, no, surely not. We’ve barely spoken.”

“He says you’re as fine a lass as any. There’s a rumor he may ask your aunt for her blessing so that he can court you.”

Hope’s mouth dropped open as the rest of her body became still.

“Court me? But we hardly know one another,” Hope said, unsure. Though she had enjoyed Jared McTavish’s company, she wasn’t sure there was the potential for much more than friendship between them, even if he was rather flirtatious at times.

“Well, such is the point of courting. For now, what Jared knows is that he thinks you’re fine, and so does Father, and so do I.”

Hope smiled at Jeanne. She glanced over the field to the line where the men lined up to start the race. Jared McTavish was a good-looking man, who seemed to have a sweet temperament and a mischievous glint in his eye, but Hope couldn’t help but admire the man standing next to him.

Graham wasn’t nearly as quick to smile, nor was he mischievous. Something about him made Hope sad, and it unnerved her as she watched him bend to pull up his kilt hose and strap it to his leg. He was severe and unfathomable, unlike his easygoing cousin. Despite everything though, there was just something about Graham that fit her.

As if he could sense her gaze upon him, Graham stilled, his eyes catching hers. Hope immediately whipped around, not wanting to be caught ogling him.

“Of course, I told him it dinna matter,” Jeanne said as she watched Hope. “Not when you were already spoken for.”

“Spoken for?” She swallowed, ignoring the warmth crawling up her back. Was Graham still looking at her? She cleared her throat. “Spoken for by whom?”

“Graham MacKinnon, of course.”

“Oh goodness, no,” Hope said, shaking her head, though her heart began to beat faster at the mere suggestion. Were people really gossiping about her and Graham? She didn’t want to be connected with him like that, but she couldn’t ignore the thrill that went through her at the idea of being spoken for by him. “Mr. MacKinnon and I are barely friends. Acquaintances, really. Nothing more.”

“Believe what you like, Miss Sharpe, but I was a lady in love once,” Jeanne said as a far-off happiness shone in her green eyes. A passing breeze caused a few strands of auburn hair to dance across Jeanne’s face. “I know what it’s like to be caught by a man’s gaze—and it’s what I’ve seen when Graham looks at you. I’d sooner lose me right arm than not believe that he’s about you.”

Hope opened her mouth to argue, but then she caught sight of Graham again with his cousins at the starting line, smiling and patting Jared on the back as they prepared to begin. He appeared so happy in that moment, and she wondered what he must have been like in his youth. Had he been bitter from the beginning about what happened to him? Obviously, the love he shared with his cousins had buoyed him in life. Yet another stab of guilt sliced through her that she was related to Belle, who had robbed him of so much, even as a small voice in her mind seemed to whisper that perhaps she could give it back one day.

She wasn’t sure how, or even if it was possible, but as the men lined up for the race, she promised herself that one day she’d be instrumental in helping Graham achieve his goal of reclaiming his ancestral home.

Jeanne sighed, grabbing Hope’s attention.

“It’s a foolish race, this is. But my Duncan did love it.”

Hope wasn’t sure what to say. She had learned that Jeanne’s husband, Duncan, had perished in the Burmese war, but this was the first time Jeanne had actually mentioned him.

“My aunt told me she only met your husband a handful of times before he left for war,” Hope said quietly. “She said he was a fine man.”

“Aye. Duncan was very fine,” Jeanne said, her tone light yet heavy simultaneously. “He and Logan Harris went off together. We were young, babes really when we married, but he was determined to fight, and I was quite taken with the idea of being married to a soldier.” Though her words were gently spoken, Hope noted a deep sadness. “It’s been three years, but sometimes I swear he still… Well…” She laced her hands together, unable to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Hope squeezed Jeanne’s fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

Jeanne smiled sadly, shaking her head as if she could shake off the sudden melancholy that had come over them.

Just then, an elderly man with a long white hair and beard to match came hobbling with a cane towards the center of the starting line. One of the twins, possibly Michael McTavish, attempted to help the old man, but was hit in the shin with the old man’s cane and shooed away. A ripple of laughter tore through the competitors, and a smirking Michael hurried back to the starting line. The aged man held up his hands and everyone quieted.

“Greetings!” he shouted as everyone in the crowd yelled a greeting back. “Ach, settle down, settle down!” He waved a hand over to the competitors. “The Casan Laidir race has been held in these past hundred years to demonstrate the strength and speed of the McTavish clan. It is a Scottish tradition that goes as far back as King Malcolm’s race and one we proudly still uphold today.” Cheers erupted around Hope as she and her sisters clapped along. “All right, all right! Now, gentlemen. Are ye ready?”

“Aye!” a collection of masculine voices said in unison from the group gathered between the tree trunks that were designated as the starting point. From what Hope could see, fourteen men lined up, with Graham and his cousins at the righthand side.

“Good.” The old man fumbled with his pistol. It seemed he was unsure how to use it. “Now, at the sound of my pistol—”

CRACK.

Several ladies screamed while Hope and her sisters flinched as the gun went off, the bullet landing in a puff of dirt on the ground before the old man. The men were off instantaneously. Laird McTavish came up to escort the elderly man back to the chairs, carefully taking the firearm away.

Hope covered her mouth in surprise as the men ran down the slope at full speed. She was sure the momentum from running downhill would trip them, particularly on the uneven terrain, but only one or two men fell, rolling down the hill like cut lumber pushed off a cliff.

Her hands moved up the sides of her head and she held her face in dread.

“Oh goodness,” Hope said, her brow crinkling beneath her fingertips. “Are they going to be all right?”

“Well, no one’s ever died from participating in the Casan Laidir, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rose replied.

“It’s not,” Hope said, straining her neck to see over the shoulders of the rest of the crowd, keeping her eyes on an ever-shrinking Graham as he ran ahead of the rest.

“What does Casan Laidir mean, Rose?” Faith asked, peering down the hill.

“Strong legs,” Rose answered. “The McTavish claim to have the strongest legs in the highlands. It’s an odd thing to claim, to be sure, but then there are the games to consider.”

“Games?” Faith repeated.

“Aye. Some twenty years ago, the Lonach Highland and Friendly Society had the idea of holding a series of competitions, like they did in the olden days. Laird McTavish is a fan of those ancient stories and insisted on competing.” Rose stood on her tippy toes to see better. “They’ve gone every year and always win all the foot races.”

“Do they?” Hope asked. “That’s quite impressive.”

“It is,” Rose agreed, watching the race. “Oh, I hate this part.”

“What part?” Hope asked, seeing the men fast approaching a rushing river.

“It’s not deep, but the water is quite fast and the rocks are slippery. Some years ago, Logan Harris cracked his head on a rock. I was just a girl then, but I’ll not forget his bloody head as they carried him out.”

“Mr. Harris participated?” Faith asked, interested.

“Yes,” she replied. “Have you met him?”

“Briefly, at Elk Manor,” Faith said, her face unreadable. “He doesn’t seem the type to participate in this sort of thing.”

“It was before he left for the war. He was a gangly young lad then, always eager to prove himself. He was winning by a long stretch that day, I remember. But he was too quick and lost his footing.”

“Oh,” Faith said.

“Every single one of them has nearly killed themselves in one way or another growing up here,” Rose continued. “It’s what makes them who they are.”

Hope focused back on the race. Jared had been keeping pace with Graham as they came out of the river, but Graham was pulling slightly ahead as they reached the horses. A silly desire to see Graham win bubbled within her and she had to swallow back a cheer as he climbed up on the horse’s back and vaulted off towards the cabers.

Hope’s hands came together, bouncing slightly with excitement as he tore back across the river, further away from those just finishing crossing on foot. Graham came hurtling back towards the slope as Jared followed close behind. A thrill went through her at the thought that Graham might win, when he suddenly pulled back, rearing the horse to a stop yards away from the finish line.

“What … what is he doing?” Hope asked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. He was going to lose the race.

Graham slid off his steed and took several steps towards a man lying on the grass, clutching his shin. One of the men who had fallen at the beginning had stayed on the ground. Graham knelt down just as Jared crossed the finish line, and while a loud burst of cheers and congratulations erupted around Hope, she kept her eyes on Graham.

After a moment of assessment, he helped the young man rise and walked him up the hill. Within moments, Michael and Jamie crossed the finish line, followed by a burly man with a black beard. Graham was next, half carrying the injured contestant, who he handed off to an older gentleman providing medical assistance.

“He lost, to help that man,” Hope said.

It seemed Graham hadn’t cared about winning at all. A warmth began to spread throughout her heart. Graham was a gentleman.

“Aye, that’s MacKinnon,” Jeanne said, sighing as if it were commonplace knowledge.

Jeanne went forward to congratulate her brother as the crowd encircled Jared. Hope tried to keep her gaze on Graham, but he was already moving towards the tents and fanfare of the festival further down the mountain.

Hope watched him walk away for a few moments before joining the others as the rest of the competitors came across the finish line. After the last man had come back, an informal garden tea commenced. Everyone ate, drank, and laughed as stories were told. While Hope enjoyed the laissez-faire atmosphere of the party, she couldn’t help but glimpse over her shoulder from time to time, wondering where Graham had gone.

Once the meal was finished, Hope and her sisters, along with Jeanne and Rose, accompanied Jared and his brothers down the hill towards the makeshift tent town. As they approached the festival, Hope noticed a large stone circle in the center with massive amounts of dry wood, leaning together in a triangle.

“When will the bonfire begin?” she asked.

“Aye, we’ll light it just as sunset,” Jared said, pointing to the horizon. “Not too long now.”

He offered her his arm as they came to a rocky stream and Hope took it. Jared was gentle and had a good temperament, but Hope felt no draw toward him. Not like she did for his cousin. Hope removed her hand from his arm after she was back on solid ground.

“Thank you,” she said as she traipsed forward, hoping to match the pace with her sisters, as Rose hurried ahead.

Oh, dear . Hope debated going after her, to explain that she had no designs on Jared, but Jeanne caught up with her.

“There’s no point in saying anything about Jared to her,” she whispered as she leaned towards Hope. “She’ll just deny having any feelings for him.”

“But I don’t want her to think I have designs on your brother.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But why?” Hope asked as they walked. “If she feels a certain way, she should be honest. If not with him, then at least with herself.”

Jeanne shrugged.

“She’s an odd bird. I’ve told her many times that the only way to get Jared to notice her is to approach him head-on, and tell him exactly how she feels. He’s a bit of a dolt in these sorts of matters.”

“Jeanne, he’s your brother.”

“Exactly, which is why I can talk about him like this. He may not be a fool in some areas, but Jared is only aware of things in his direct line of vision and if Rose insists on living on the edge of his view, then nothing with ever come from her feelings for him.” Jeanne climbed nimbly over a relatively large boulder before continuing. “I offered a dozen times to help her, but she always refuses.”

“Perhaps she’s too shy?” Hope offered as they came to the edge of the tent town. “Or maybe she’s afraid he’ll reject her?”

“That could be,” Jeanne said, though she didn’t sound convinced. “You see, I think she likes a bit of pining, but too much isn’t good for your health.”

“Well, perhaps we can help,” Hope said, as the wheels of her mind began to turn. She frowned. “But what can we do? We need to get Jared’s attention and somehow make sure that Rose is at the center of it.” She bit the inside of her lip as she thought. “Maybe we can force Jared to see her, to actually take notice of her.”

Jeanne eyed her suspiciously.

“How would we do that?”

“I’m not sure. Does she have any talents? Can she sing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Can she play an instrument? The piano forte perhaps?” Jeanne shook her head and Hope’s shoulders dropped. “If only there was some way to put her front and center.”

After a moment, Jeanne’s fingers slapped against Hope’s forearm.

“She can dance.”

Hope gave her a pained smile. Jeanne didn’t seem to understand.

“Well of course she can. All ladies can dance.”

“No, not the kind of dancing you’re picturing. Here, I have an idea.” She said and leaned close to her ear. “Rose can sword dance.”

“Sword dance?”

“Yes. Her brothers were well known for it and she’s mentioned before how she learned along with them when they were children. We can do a sword dance. Tonight.”

“We?”

“Well, of course. She wouldn’t do it otherwise. Your sisters will have to help us.”

“But we don’t know how to sword dance.”

“You don’t need to. I have a plan,” she said, winking as she pulled away from Hope’s arm. “Let me talk to my father.”

“All right.”

Jeanne hurried off as Hope ambled past the tents and carts, enjoying the smells of delicious foods and spiced wine. Seeing Faith and Grace a few feet away, she moved through the crowd. She wasn’t sure if Jeanne’s plan would work, but she was hopeful, and she would need her sisters’ help.

After Hope spoke with her sisters in whispers, Faith seemed less than pleased while Grace was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

“Oh, this will be so much fun!” Grace exclaimed.

“I don’t see how making fools of ourselves is going to help matters,” Faith said.

“We won’t be on anyone’s mind when they see Rose,” Hope said, peering over their heads. “Come, let’s find Jeanne.”

As the sun set, Hope, her sisters, Jeanne, and Rose come together in a circle. As several men lit the fire, to the cheers and claps of everyone, Jeanne helped tie up the girls’ bustles.

“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Rose said, fixing her hair so it wouldn’t come loose. “It seems awfully silly to me.”

“My father’s a silly man,” Jeanne said as she tightened Grace’s skirts. “But you know how he is. He loves revelry.”

“Aye, but why cannot the men do this? It’s a sword dance, after all.”

“My father insists that I’m the best dancer in the family and I won’t do it alone. Now hurry up,” Jeanne said.

“And you all know what to do?” Rose asked Hope and her sisters, who nodded emphatically. “When did anyone have time to teach you?”

“Oh, well, Belle did when she would come visit us during Christmas,” Hope lied.

“Lady Belle?” Rose said with suspicion. “With her cane and all?”

“Oh, well no, she taught us by telling us where our feet were to go, but I think we’ve become quite proficient in it. Don’t you think so, Faith? Grace?”

“Very proficient,” Grace agreed, nodding.

“Yes,” Faith said, without conviction. “Very.”

Hope glared at Faith from over Rose’s shoulder.

“Very well, let’s get it over with,” Rose said as she led the way to face the crowd.

The rest followed her in a single line. Hope usually became quite nervous before performing, whenever she was requested to play the pianoforte or heaven forbid, sing, but this was different.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Laird McTavish spoke, getting everyone’s attention. “My daughter and her friends have asked to put on a performance and I canne say no. They’ve decided to start tonight’s festivities with a dance, one that I know you’ll all recognize.” The smiling Laird looked back at them and winked. “Ready?”

“Aye,” Jeanne said.

He turned back.

“Very well. Music?”

As the first notes of the bagpipes chimed through the early evening air, Jeanne, Hope, and her sisters fell back to form a line behind Rose, who bent forward at the waist, and bounced on the tips of her toes. With her legs fully extended, she kicked straight out, her skirts tied high to avoid getting in the way. Turning to her right, she repeated the bouncing and kicking, now raising her hands as she did so.

Hope and her sisters watched with glee as Jeanne cheered Rose on. It really was a beautiful dance, and Hope wondered if she might truly learn it one day.

Gazing around Rose’s dancing body, she spotted Jared in the center of the crowd, observing Rose with the strangest expression on his face. He had been smiling like the rest of the group before the dance began, but it seemed something had come over him, and his gaze was now locked on Rose’s face.

Hope tried to get around her sisters to see if Rose was watching Jared when a strange shiver went through her. Glancing around the bonfire, she caught sight of Graham, arms folded, watching her. He had a calculating expression on his face as he stood by the side of a food cart, a towering figure next to the small crowd that surrounded him.

Why should he look so serious, she wondered. Turning back to the others and finding that everyone was preoccupied with watch Rose, Hope decided to sneak away.

Slipping away, she placed her hands on several shoulders to excuse herself as she squeezed through the crowd. By the time she reached Graham, he was practically glaring at her.

“What’s the matter?” she asked when she finally reached him. “You’re scowling.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” she said, folding her own arms across her chest to mimic him. She furred her brow. “See? You look like this.”

Though Graham’s face didn’t change, a hint of amusement shone in his eyes. He turned his head, surveying the crowd around them before nodding his head backwards, silently asking her to follow him. She did. Past the tents, and people, towards the other side of a line of carriages that had been parked around the camp.

Once they were alone, he turned to face her, visible through slashes of firelight that danced between the shadows. Though they had been seen by several people, Hope wasn’t overly worried about being caught in any sort of situation like they nearly had at Elk Manor. The feeling of these games were decidedly more relaxed than the atmosphere of a proper ballroom.

“You’ve played a nasty trick on Rose, not dancing with her,” he accused quietly, much to Hope’s surprise.

Did he really think she would do something that would purposely harm Rose? Annoyed, she folded her arms across her chest.

“You know nothing about it,” she countered. “We have a plan, you see. Jeanne and my sisters.”

“To make a fool out of her?”

“No, of course not. It’s to make your cousin take notice of her. She’s rather shy when it comes to him, as I’m sure you know, and we wanted to give him a bit of a push to make him notice her. We thought this was a clever idea,” Hope said, tilting her chin up. “Besides, I would never harm Rose.”

Graham’s stare was scrutinizing but Hope remained unmoved. Then, after a moment he sighed.

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t. Jeanne certainly wouldn’t either.” Hope smiled. “But it still isn’t any of your concern whether or not Jared notices her. You should have left them to find their own way.”

Her smile faltered.

“I’m surprise you’re even talking to me.”

He bent his head.

“Why is that?”

“Aren’t you ignoring me?”

“Ignoring you?”

“Yes. You’ve barely spoken to me since the ball at Elk Manor.”

He frowned.

“I had business in Glasgow, but I was at Lismore the day before last.”

“Yes, I saw you in the garden. But when I went to join you, you took off.”

“I had work to do,” he said, peering over her shoulder back to the fire. Hope turned as well. At that moment, the music ended and a great cheer broke out over the crowd. Facing Graham again, she saw his suspicious gaze once more. “Rather like your aunt, after all, aren’t you? Meddling in people’s lives.”

“What does my aunt have anything to do with this? And I hardly think getting your cousin to notice a woman is meddling.”

“Well, it’s not not interfering.”

Hope squinted at him.

“I’m sorry, do you not like Rose?”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Or maybe you don’t like your cousin.”

“Ack, what are you going on about?”

“Only that you seem rather put out that someone should try to bring them together, but where’s the harm in that?”

“If they were going to come together, it should be of their own volition. You lot are always meddling. Jared need not be led by any woman—”

“Ha,” Hope said sarcastically. “If the world waited for men to do as they ought, we’d still be waiting for, well …” She paused, trying to think of something clever.

Graham stepped towards her and she glanced up at him, utterly unable to think up a clever quip. Through the carts, moving bodies and tents, the light from the bonfire flickered against him as he approached her.

“Aye?” he said, his tone rather rough. “What would we be waiting for?”

“Um,” she said, staring into his heated gaze. She swallowed. “Well, something, I’m sure. Never you mind.”

Graham’s shadow covered face smirked down at her and a shiver went through her.

“I would have thought you would want to get Jared’s attention.”

Hope let out a small laugh.

“Me? Oh goodness, no. Mr. McTavish seems a very fine man, but I’ve had my fair share of men,” she said. Graham’s mouth tightened, and she suddenly realized how sordid that had sounded. “Oh! No, that’s not what I meant. I only mean to say that I’ve rather had my fill of, well, men’s courtesy. I’m quite happy to be left alone.”

“Is that so?” As he took another step forward, eliminating the remaining space between them. Hope’s heart raced. “Because of your Mr. Pennyton?”

“Pennington,” she corrected him. “And yes. That was enough experience for me, I’m afraid. I’ve quite had enough of masculine attention.”

Graham didn’t speak right away. They watched each other, the shadows of the distant bonfire dancing across his face. He appeared like he could be a pagan and her heart thudded, heaving against her chest, as if it were trying to break free.

Slowly, he raised his hand to her face. His fingers grazed her cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear.

“I don’t think you’ve ever really had masculine attention, Hope,” he said, his accent curling around her name like smoke around an ember. Hope opened her mouth to argue, but hesitated when he leaned forward. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips graze the edge of her ear. “Not the kind you deserve, at least.”

“D-deserve?” she stuttered slightly.

He breathed against her skin, his breath hot.

“Aye.”

Hope’s eyes closed as she swayed slightly, trying to fight off the growing desire to touch him. For years, Jacob had shamed her for her cravings to be held. He, along with her grandmother, had told her repeatedly that such longings were improper, but she never succeeded in quell them. She certainly couldn’t now. Graham was so close; the heat radiating off him was too tempting. Her resolve to keep her hands to herself broke.

Opening her eyes, she dragged her oval-shaped fingernails against the fabric of his sleeves as his hands came up to rest on her hips. She could have sworn she heard his breath catch as she bent her head and whispered into his ear.

“What, what sort of attention do I deserve, Mr. MacKinnon?”