Page 7 of Hope in the Highlands (Seduced in Scotland #1)

Elk Manor, the MacTavish stronghold, had looked over this part of the highlands for hundreds of years. It had always been a place of comfort to Graham, but as he stood in the middle of his uncle’s crowded ballroom, awaiting the arrival of Lady Belle and her nieces, he was troubled. For days, his thoughts had been consumed by memories of his afternoon with Hope. As much as he tried to reason away his attraction to Hope, he couldn’t ignore his genuine, visceral response to her.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her, hadn’t wanted to, considering who Hope was and what it would mean, but then Graham hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d half expected her to push him away, but after that initial hesitation, her hands had come up to his chest, her fingers had curled into his vest, and she had moaned ever so softly into his mouth. That alone had nearly undone him, and he’d fallen deeper into the kiss.

She had tasted like honey, and the mere memory of holding her was difficult to push aside. For days he thought of nothing else. They had fit so perfectly together, so bloody perfectly, that it was as though he had suddenly come under a spell. A spell that seemed to break the moment he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be kissing her.

Hope is not for me.

He needed to keep his mind clear of her so that he could think straight.

He had gone back and forth about Belle’s offer a dozen times since hearing it and a dozen more since kissing Hope. He could marry her and have Lismore Hall back in his possession, but something about the idea rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps if he was honest with Hope, Graham could convince her to sell it back to him once she inherited it.

Yes, that’s what he would do. He would simply tell Hope the truth and buy it back from her later. She had been sympathetic to his story and morally offended when she’d learned how her aunt came to own Lismore Hall. It would probably be easy to convince her to sell it to him, but he was surprised to note that a significant part of him disliked the idea. Gaining Lismore with or without marrying Hope was equally unattractive. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. What was he going to do?

A buzz erupted from the group of people surrounding the entrance hall and he took a sip of wine as he nodded at a tall, fair-haired man approaching him. Logan Harris was Graham’s oldest friend and had been the fisherman Hope had spied on the other day. He had recently returned home from the Second Burma War and had earned a parcel of land upon his return for saving an entire brigade.

“Logan,” Graham said with a nod.

“Graham,” Logan said, peering over the crowd. “Tell me, have the English invaded yet?”

“Just about,” he said, nodding towards the entrance hall, where several McTavish ladies were making the Sharpes’ acquaintance. “That's them.”

“You'll forgive me if I don't rush to greet them,” Logan said, taking a wine glass from a passing servant. He seemed just as displeased with the prospect of entertaining the Sharpes as him, though Graham knew he had different reasons. “I'm not fond of the English.”

His dislike of the English wasn’t merely because he was Scottish. His mother had been from London and had abandoned him, his sister, and their father when he was young.

“Who is?” A McTavish cousin said, coming up to join them. “But these Sassenachs are easy to look at.”

“Aye, particularly the oldest one,” another cousin said. “Hope, isn't it?”

“It is.” Graham said as an odd sensation rolled within him. Jealousy? No, it couldn't be. Or rather, it shouldn’t be. But he had known envy his whole life and this touch of jealousy was familiar to him.

“Beauties or not, they're still English,” Logan said, as the footman across the room stepped forward.

“Lady Belle Smith and her nieces, Miss Hope Sharpe, Miss Faith Sharpe, and Miss Grace Sharpe.”

The crowd parted ways, and Belle entered the hall smiling widely as Laird McTavish approached her to welcome them. The three Sharpe sisters, dressed in the latest London fashions, followed after her, appearing slightly nervous beneath the curious gazes of the other guests.

Graham's eyes were immediately on Hope. She wore an ice-blue silk gown, with short sleeves and long gloves. A sizeable silver brooch had been pinned to the center of her bodice and Graham’s insides clenched. Her dress was too revealing, too perfectly fitted for her body and he was both eager and angry at the sight of her.

He didn't want to want her.

Why was she wearing something so revealing anyway? The damn neckline was pinned in such a way to accentuate her breasts and make nearly every man in the room stare at her. Jealousy tore through him as he glared around. He felt murderous towards anyone who even glanced at her as he fought to keep his composure.

“Huh,” Logan said as he stared in their direction, seeming rather mesmerized. “Who is the tall one?”

“Faith,” Graham said, hating that his voice sounded brittle. “Why?”

But Logan didn't answer. Graham noticed him staring at the middle sister, though he wasn't sure why Faith would catch his attention with Hope standing right next to her.

Logan quickly finished his wine.

“Excuse me.”

He disappeared somewhere into the crowd, heading in the opposite direction. Graham didn't quite understand his reaction, but he didn't really care. All he was interested in was Hope.

Her dark curls bounced slightly as she walked and he found himself mesmerized. Not only by her beauty, but by a deep appreciation of her character. She was straightforward in an unconsciously charming way, and he found that he only wished to be near her again, even if she ignored him or scolded him again for his cynicism.

He made his way through the crowd, befuddled by his own feelings. Belle had gone to speak with someone towards the edge of the room, leaving her nieces to answer dozens of questions from his inquisitive family members. Graham navigated through the sea of cousins, friends, and extended family to follow Belle.

It had been strange the way the McTavish clan had all but adopted the old woman into their family. For a king's mistress, she had blended in seamlessly with the McTavishes.

She certainly acted like a dowager lady of the stronghold. An elderly woman who had been speaking with her turned away, leaving Belle alone. Graham came up to where she stood, leaning heavily on her blackwood cane. She smiled at him.

“Ah, MacKinnon. How nice to see you.”

“Is it?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Well, I think so. Have you thought any more about my offer?”

“The one where you trade your own flesh and blood for nothing?” he asked under his breath. “Yes, and the answer is still no.”

“Because you think she is too plain? Or too dull?”

“No,” he said, annoyed. “Because I can't wrap my head around why you want this. What's in it for you?”

“In it for me?” she repeated, incredulous. “I'm seventy-five years old, MacKinnon. There's nothing I want and nothing I need.”

“Then why push this match?”

“Because you need it, as much as she does,” she said earnestly. “I've watched you for years, seen the way you obsess about Lismore Hall, striving above all to get it back. It's not healthy to obsess about something like a building. And yet, now I give you a perfect opportunity and you are throwing it away.”

“By forcing me to marry for it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Such language. No one is forcing you to do anything.”

“You are though.”

“I simply don't understand your aversion to her,” Belle said, peering past him. He twisted to follow her gaze, landing on Hope. “What's wrong with her? She's as good as any young lady.”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Graham opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. The words would not come. He had long held private beliefs about himself and if he spoke about them out loud, it would only solidify them.

“It's none of your concern,” he said finally.

Lady Belle's mouth flattened into a thin line.

“You're being terribly stubborn, MacKinnon, even for you,” she said, gazing over the crowd. “Lismore Hall would be yours if only you married her.”

“Why are you so invested in this?”

Belle's eyes shifted and Graham got the distinct impression that she was hiding something from him. She drifted away from him, refusing to answer his question.

“Do whatever you wish, MacKinnon. But don't blame me when your dream is taken away. Permanently.”

She raised her cane in greeting at someone across the room and left him alone against the far wall of the hall. Belle was behaving suspiciously, and he was determined to figure out what she was up to and why she was so eager for this match between him and Hope.

Scanning the room as he walked, Graham saw Hope standing a little way away from everyone else. Knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid her all night, Graham advanced toward her quickly. When she caught sight of him approaching her, he could have sworn her eyes brightened.