“They’re fools, then.”
“Or perhaps they just want to see ye happy for once,” Hamish said quietly. “That would be novel.”
Before Murdock could respond, before he could tell Hamish exactly what he thought of that sentiment, the door opened. And Leona walked in.
Murdock’s breath caught in his chest.
She’d changed out of her traveling clothes into a simple dress, a deep green that brought out the color of her eyes. Her black hair was pulled back from her face, revealing the elegant line of her neck and the delicate curve of her jaw. She moved with unconscious grace, her brother trailing behind her, looking uncomfortable in his borrowed formal tunic.
But Murdock barely noticed the boy. His entire focus was on Leona, on the way the candlelight caught in her hair, on the slight flush in her cheeks, on the way she worried her lower lip between her teeth as she surveyed the room.
His body responded immediately, viscerally. Heat pooled low in his belly, his pulse quickened, and he had to force himselfto breathe normally. This was madness. She was just a woman. Just a means to an end.
Except she wasn’t. She was fire and courage and stubborn determination wrapped in a package so achingly beautiful it made his chest tight.
“Close yer mouth, me Laird,” Hamish murmured beside him, barely concealing his laughter. “Ye’re starin'.”
“I’m nae,” Murdock bit out, but he forced his gaze away from Leona to glare at his man-at-arms instead.
“Ye absolutely are. Like a man who’s just seen the sun for the first time.” Hamish’s grin widened. “This should be entertainin'.”
Before Murdock could threaten him with stable duty, Leona’s eyes found his across the room. Their gazes locked, held, and Murdock felt that now-familiar jolt of awareness race through him. Her lips parted slightly, her cheeks flushing deeper, and he knew she felt it too. This pull between them. This maddening, impossible attraction.
“Lady Leona,” Hamish called out, breaking the moment. He strode forward with the easy confidence of a man who’d never met a stranger. “Welcome. I daenae believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Hamish, the Laird’s man-at-arms and occasional voice of reason.”
He took her hand, bowing over it with exaggerated courtesy. “Though I should warn ye, he rarely listens to reason. Stubborn as an ox, this one.”
Leona laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Murdock felt his jaw clench. Hamish was still holding her hand. Still touching her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet ye properly,” Leona said, her smile warm. “And I thank ye for the warnin', though I’ve already gathered as much about his stubbornness.”
“Have ye now?” Hamish grinned, finally releasing her hand. “Well, at least ye ken what ye’re getting' into. Some lasses are fooled by the broodin'' laird act. They think there’s a heart of gold beneath all that scowlin'.”
“And there’s nae?” Leona asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, there is. It’s just buried under about forty layers of granite and bad temper.” Hamish winked. “But I’m sure a lass as lovely as ye will have nay trouble chippin' through them.”
Murdock had heard enough. He moved forward, his presence commanding enough that Hamish immediately stepped back, though the bastard was still grinning.
“Hamish, daenae ye have somewhere else to be?” His voice came out rougher than he had intended.
“Nay, actually. Ye invited me to dinner, remember?” Hamish’s eyes danced with mischief. “Unless ye’ve changed yer mind?”
“I’m reconsiderin'.”
“Now, now, me Laird. That’s nay way to speak in front of yer betrothed.” Hamish turned back to Leona. “Ye see what I mean about his temper?”
Leona’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “I’m startin' to understand, aye.”
Before Murdock could respond, before he could tell Hamish exactly where he could shove his commentary, the door opened again. Three women entered, wives of his senior guards, their faces bright with curiosity and welcome.
“Lady Leona!” the eldest, Sheena, called out warmly. She was a formidable woman in her fifties, with steel-gray hair and a no-nonsense attitude that even Murdock respected. “We heard the wonderful news! Welcome to Clan Ainsley!”
The women surrounded Leona, pulling her into embraces, chattering excitedly about wedding plans and the upcoming festival. Leona handled it with grace, smiling and thanking them, but Murdock could see the slight trepidation in her eyes.
He wanted to go to her. Wanted to pull her away from the crowd, to tell these well-meaning women to give her space to breathe.
Instead, he stood frozen, watching as Sheena took Leona’s hand, as the younger women, Fiona and Ailsa, touched her arm, her shoulder, fawning over her dress, her hair, asking questions faster than she could answer.
