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CHAPTER TWO

T he music swelled around them as the man pulled Valora into the sea of swaying bodies.

The cornett, the lute, the flute—all instruments working together to create a fast reel that had the guests dancing joyously in a dizzying whirl of color.

Her partner held her firmly as he led her through the steps, but his grip never became insistent or possessive, like Laird Keith’s had been.

Valora’s hand rested on his chest, the pads of her fingers feeling the muscles under the layers of formal clothing.

The man was solid as stone, but warm, radiating heat like the sun, and Valora found herself swept into the moment, forgetting where she was.

It didn’t last long. Even that wasn’t enough to make her forget the reality of that night—the fact that she and every other woman in the room were there to be used as bargaining chips.

How can someone like him be here? Is he truly nae different from everyone else?

The man was handsome, more so than any other man Valora had ever encountered, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a good man.

His external appearance could have no correlation with his inner world, for all Valora knew.

He also didn’t smell like alcohol and his body wasn’t heavy with drink as Laird Keith’s had been, but it was still early in the night.

There was plenty of time for him to get drunk, and Valora couldn’t say for certain that he wouldn’t.

Even as she glanced up at him, trying to find some clue regarding his thoughts, they proved to be well-guarded.

His gaze betrayed nothing. His expression was blank, giving her no hints.

He moved with purpose and practiced ease, guiding her confidently around the dance floor, but other than that, she couldn’t decipher anything about him.

What is a man like him daeing in a place like this?

Just as there was only one reason for the young women to be there, there was only one reason for the bachelors to be there; he, too, had to be in search of a wife.

The mere thought was enough to leave Valora with a bad taste in the back of her throat, but despite everything, she felt safer in this stranger’s arms than she had felt all night alone.

What is the matter with me? Why would I trust this man at all?

She had several reasons to be attracted to him, from his striking eyes to his broad shoulders and solid chest, but physical attraction meant nothing without proof that he was a good man. She didn’t know him at all, and so she hated the part of her that was so easily comforted by his presence.

"Dae ye often slap yer dancin’ partners?" the man asked her. Now that he spoke in a low voice, his tone had a gravelly quality about it, a roughness that sent a chill through her as though she was at the mercy of a chilly breeze.

"Only if they’re bein’ inappropriate," Valora said.

His handsome looks threatened to make her forget that he, too, was there to find a wife for a good alliance, and he had every choice he could ever want, while the women had none.

It was a vile place, that ball, filled with men who felt entitled to the women around them, and this man couldn’t possibly be any different if he was among them.

"Then I shall have nay fear," the man said confidently. True to his word, he kept his hand high up on Valora’s back, far away from her rear, much to her relief.

"How can I be certain o’ that?" she asked, unable to help it. She didn’t trust him; she didn’t trust anyone in that room. "Perhaps ye’re only sayin’ this so I will be fooled."

"Why would I need tae fool ye?" the man asked her, his brows knitting into a frown. "Dae ye think everyone is tryin’ tae fool ye?"

"Nae everyone," Valora was quick to say. "Only the men in this room."

Looking around them, the man hummed as if in acknowledgment, nodding slowly. When his gaze found Valora’s once more, there was a slight softness there that she hadn’t noticed before.

"All o’ them?" the man asked. "Surely, some must be decent men."

"Are ye talkin’ about yerself?"

"Perhaps."

Valora couldn’t help it; with the way the man spoke, it was as though he was purposefully trying to make her admit she didn’t trust him, and she was not going to hold back.

"I dinnae think ye’re any better than the others," she said, just as the man twirled her and pulled her close once more. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as their bodies met once again, and she had to swallow in order to be able to speak once more. Still, she didn’t waver, nor did her assessment change.

"Ye’re here fer the same thing everyone else has come for; tae choose a wife, when the wife has nay say in the matter.

Have ye considered that some o’ us dinnae wish tae wed? Has anyone?"

The moment the words were past her lips, Valora regretted her outburst—not because she feared the retaliation from this man, but rather because she feared that her father would put the burden on Althea’s shoulders.

All that mattered was that her sister was safe, and now she feared she had ruined all chances of that.

But the man only looked around them once more, taking in the crowd for a few moments. He didn’t seem offended by her words, and though that helped soothe Valora’s fear, it also brought up another.

He will laugh at me, or dismiss me concerns as unimportant.

Her father hadn’t cared enough to keep her safe from them. Her own father was more than happy to bring her there and give her to the man who had the most to offer him. Her well-being, her happiness—they were entirely irrelevant.

She couldn’t control her fury at the thought, and she was certain it showed on her face.

She could feel her jaw tightening, her teeth clenching, but she couldn’t stop it.

She could feel the slight tremble of her hand where it rested on the man’s shoulders, and she was quite sure he could feel it, too.

When she gathered the courage to look at him, though, she found his expression softening, his gaze taking on a curious quality. She didn’t sense any pity from him, much to her relief.

He only seemed curious.

"Why are ye here, then?" he asked her. Against her body, he was a solid wall of warmth, his touch gentle and tender now. It gave Valora pause for a moment. She didn’t know how to react when all she had expected was mockery.

"If ye wish tae fight all the men who are here tae ask fer yer hand, then perhaps ye shouldnae have come at all. "

"I’m only here tae save me sister from havin’ this fate instead o’ me," Valora said, the words tumbling past her lips before she could stop them or even truly think about them. Silently, she cursed herself for it. She didn’t need this man to know anything about her or her intentions, not when he could so easily spread rumors about her.

Any show of weakness could prove detrimental, and now he knew one of the biggest ones she carried.

But once again, there was no mockery, no cruelty; no sign that the man would take this information and use it against her. If anything, his hold on her only softened even further, his hands becoming so gentle that Valora herself had the sense she was made of glass and had to be treated carefully.

When she looked up at him, his gaze flayed her raw. It was as though he was looking right through her once more, peering into the deepest parts of her—the parts that she wished to keep hidden from everyone, perhaps even from herself.

The music faded just as Valora came to a slow halt, stunned by that look. The man’s hand held onto hers for a moment longer, keeping them entwined even as the music stopped, before he finally let go.

"That is very admirable," he said with a slight tilt of his head. "Nae many would dae that fer their sister."

Before Valora could say anything to that, the man retreated into the crowd, disappearing from her field of vision. Valora stood there, heart hammering in her ribs as she searched for him with her gaze, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t catch a single glimpse of him.

How could he have disappeared so quickly? And why? He was the only one that night who had made her feel as though she mattered, as though she was being seen. All everyone else cared about was the power that came with having the hand of the MacNeacail heir.

And who amongst them didn’t have that very same goal? All the men in that room were only after one thing—power.

Another hand wrapped around Valora’s arm, and she was about to slap that off too, before she realized it belonged to her father.

"At least ye did one good thing tonight," her father said under his breath "The man ye danced with, he showed very strong interest in ye."

Valora’s heart skipped a beat, then another. Could it be that the reason why the man had disappeared so quickly was because he wanted to express his interest about her to her father?

"An’ Laird Keith is a powerful man," her father added, prompting Valora to frown.

"Laird Keith?" she asked.

"Aye," said her father. "Ye danced with him, didnae ye? An’ despite what I heard about yer behavior, it seems that ye managed tae charm him."

Nay. Nay, anyone but him.

If Laird Keith had the audacity to grope her, a stranger, in the middle of the dance floor, then Valora could only imagine how terrible her life would be if she were married to him.

Behind closed doors, he would show no restraint, no mercy.

He would simply take what he wished from her with no regard as to what she wanted.

She didn’t know if she could bear it. Spending the rest of her life married to him sounded like a torture that no patience and no stubbornness could help her endure.

But if she didn’t do it, then Althea would have to take her place.

"Dinnae move," her father said as he let go of her arm. "I willnae be long."

He disappeared before Valora could ask where he was going. Suddenly, she was left there, standing in the middle of the room with her head held high, resolve building inside her. There was nothing to be done but her duty, and she would shoulder it with all the dignity she had remaining.