Daphne squeezed her fingers. “You know you can stay as long as you need to.”
Leah stepped sideways to place her hand around Daphne’s waist and tightened her grip. “You are the best friend in the world.”
Daphne was about to reply when Oskar suddenly took a step forward, his body rigid with tension as he looked at the entrance of the room.
“Well, I’ll be!” he declared softly.
As the latest dance ended, the sudden halt in the music seemed to be coupled with a hush falling over the crowd.
Leah followed Oskar’s gaze, feeling goosebumps rise all over her skin as she observed the man who had just arrived. She was not the only one staring—he appeared to have caught the whole room’s attention.
He was incredibly tall, standing only an inch or two below the top of the arched doorway. His muscular shoulders looked cramped in the narrow space, and Leah couldn’t help but notice his bulging biceps.
His hair was long and black, his cheeks sharp and angular. She rather fancied that his face resembled that of a hawk. His dark eyes surveyed the room, or at least one of them did. There was a patch across his right eye, hiding the edges of a scar from view. She shivered as she took him in.
That is the most handsome man I have ever seen.
She felt a little foolish at her sudden desperation to meet him.
“I never believed he would come,” Daphne said beside her as the baby wriggled and fussed in her arms. She did not sound angry or upset, just intrigued.
Oskar, who had frozen in place, suddenly raised an arm in the air. “Laird MacWatt, ye are most welcome.”
The rest of the clan took that as their cue to continue the celebrations, and a lively tune erupted as another dance began.
Laird MacWatt, who had barely moved for a full minute, relaxed his stance at Oskar’s invitation and made his way toward them, skirting around the dancefloor, observing the room before him with an assessing gaze.
Leah looked him over as he advanced, finding everything about him intriguing. He even walked differently from the men she was used to. He was so broad and imposing that his whole chest seemed to swing with him, his muscular physique entirely unfamiliar compared to the fops of English Society.
She imagined how he would look coming to tea with her mother, his enormous bulk taking up the entire chaise, his hands trying to balance their delicate china. She suppressed a snigger as she imagined the awkwardness of the scene.
When she looked up, however, it was to see his dark gaze fixed on hers, a slight frown on his brow as his one good eye roamed over her and darted away again.
Oskar stepped forward and held out a hand to the newcomer. “Ye… came,” he remarked, his tone not entirely jovial. “I wasnae sure ye would.”
MacWatt took his hand and shook it, his gaze seeming to evaluate everything about Oskar in a few short seconds. “Ye invited me, did ye nae?” he grunted.
Leah saw Daphne raise her eyebrows at his comment, but she found herself admiring the bluntness of his response. She had come to value the honesty and straightforward nature of the Highlanders. It was refreshing compared to London Society, where everything was entangled in webs of deceit.
As she stared at the newcomer, she found that she could not hold back a laugh.
“He has a point, My Laird. You did not seem so surprised to see your other guests,” she said teasingly, looking up at Oskar with a smile.
Oskar and Daphne seemed amused by her comment, but when she looked at MacWatt, her breath hitched in her throat.
His gaze was like an electric current in the air between them, and her heart hammered as she fought to hold it. As his eye examined her, it looked as though it were entirely eclipsed by the pupil, the center black as coal.
An unfamiliar dark heat erupted in her gut as he stared her down. Perhaps the connection was only momentary, but to Leah, it seemed to hold her in place, suspended for an eternity. That look held something inside it that mirrored a deeper longing—a yearning she had felt all her life but never acknowledged. A desire to be free, a desire to be seen. She felt branded by it.
What is the matter with me?I am not going to swoon over a man I have just met.
As quickly as his attention had found hers, he looked away. His lips thinned into a hard line, the candlelight glancing off a thick vein pulsing in his temple.
Was he affronted by what I said?
Leah felt an unwelcome skitter of unease run down her spine.
Can the man not take a joke?
