Page 10 of Laird of Twilight

“But I do have it. Sometimes I just know things. And then I say them. It is not always good of me to do so.” She looked distressed, then drew a breath. Her beautiful eyes flashed silver. “It is rude to accuse me and confront me so.”

Scowling, forming his answer, he glanced up as others entered the room. “Oh, there you are, James!” Fiona said, coming toward him.

“I am mortified,” Charlotte said, strolling in with Lady Rankin. “Outraged!”

Elspeth MacArthur glanced at James. “I suppose I am ruined now.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “I scarcely touched you.”

“I mean for insulting Sir Walter Scott.”

“Not at all,” he murmured. “He seemed amused.”

“Are you sorry, then, for scolding me?” she asked sweetly.

“I did not scold. Hello,” he said more loudly, as the others approached.

“What is this?” Lady Rankin asked. She and Charlotte came toward them first, headdress feathers waving, silk and satin trains sliding like plumed tails.

“Yes, what is this?” Charlotte asked.

“I was feeling faint,” the girl said. “Lord Struan was concerned for me.”

“Ah,” Lady Rankin said, narrowing her eyes.

“If that is all,” Charlotte said, shrugging. “That was no proper kiss at all from the king, did you see?” she complained to the others. “I expected something more genteel and certainly more memorable.”

“We cannot expect a romantic gesture from the king,” Lucie reasoned.

“Struan!” Sir Philip came along behind the others and peered through the rhododendron leaves. “And Miss MacArthur! What are you doing back there? Did you see that the fellows are making up the deficit to the ladies? Miss Sinclair, if I may!” Leaning toward Charlotte, he kissed her quickly on the lips.

“Oh!” Charlotte swatted him with her fan, yet giggled.

“And you, Lady Fiona,” Sir Philip then turned to Fiona, who offered her cheek. William bent shyly toward Lucie, who dimpled and smiled as he kissed her cheek.

Lady Rankin huffed indignantly, though she laughed when William kissed her cheek next, gallantly and politely.

Standing beside Miss MacArthur, wrapped in the sweet scent of flowers, James smiled with the others as people streamed into the room from the crowded corridor, many of them voicing the same complaint about the king’s kisses. More and more the young men and women flirted with their own quick kisses, the young women coyly pouting, the young men obliged with a proper cheek kiss, sometimes a kiss on the lips, amid good-natured laughter.

“It seems no one is satisfied with the royal kiss,” Lady Rankin said.

“Not Scottish women, at least,” Charlotte said. Fiona and Lucie laughed.

“It was quite—squishy,” Lucie said, as the others laughed.

“What of the Highland lass in our party?” Sir Philip asked. “Let me do the honors, since I am the only one of us dressed in proper Highland fashion.” He came around the potted plants toward Elspeth MacArthur, giving her a quick and moist kiss on the lips. Grinning, pleased with himself, he stepped back.

The girl smiled flatly, while James grew very still. Do not take this silliness seriously, he told himself, yet he wanted to defend her. But she gave him a quick shake of her head as if she knew his thoughts.

“Look,” Charlotte said, “the Countess of Argyll has accepted a kiss from the Earl of Huntly. Everyone will be part of the game now.”

“Oh, Elspeth,” Lucie murmured. “Is that Cousin Ellison, just there, standing with that tall man in Highland dress?”

“I do not know her well, but aye, that does look like Ellison. Am I right that her father is your uncle, my mother’s Cousin Hector Graham? He is the Deputy Lord Provost of Edinburgh now, is that so?”

“Yes, absolutely. I wonder who that gentleman is. He is devilishly handsome.” Lucie fluttered her fan.

Elspeth stretched her neck to see through the crowd. “Dressed like a Highland chieftain, with two feathers in his bonnet.”