“I…” she started, then felt Murdock shift beside her.
His hand moved under the table, finding hers where it rested on her thigh. The contact sent a jolt through her system, electric and immediate. His palm was warm and calloused, and it completely engulfed her smaller hand. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if to say,I’ve got this.
But he didn’t remove his hand. And Leona found she couldn’t breathe properly with his thumb now drawing slow, deliberate circles on her palm.
“We met under… unusual circumstances,” he began, his voice steady even as his thumb continued its maddening movement. “Lady Leona showed great courage when I was in need. I was impressed.”
“How romantic!” Ailsa sighed. “Was it love at first sight?”
Leona felt heat flood her cheeks.
Murdock’s thumb pressed into the center of her palm, and she had to bite back a gasp. Was he doing this on purpose? Making her lose focus while he answered questions?
“I wouldnae say first sight,” Murdock replied, and she caught the hint of dark humor in his voice. “But there was… an immediate awareness.”
That was one way to put it.
Leona remembered seeing him in the dungeons, bloodied and bound, and feeling like she’d been struck by lightning.
“And what about ye, me Lady?” Fiona asked, leaning forward with interest. “What did ye think when ye first saw him?”
Leona opened her mouth to answer, but at that exact moment, Murdock’s hand shifted. His fingers laced through hers, his thumb finding her wrist and pressing against her pulse point.
The touch was innocent to anyone watching, just a betrothed couple holding hands under the table. But the slow, deliberate stroke of his thumb against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist made her nipples pebble against the fabric of her dress. The sensation was so sudden, so unexpected, that she gasped.
“Are ye all right, dear?” Sheena asked, concern lacing her voice.
“Fine,” Leona managed, her voice coming out breathier than intended. “Just… the wine went down wrong.”
She was acutely aware of Murdock beside her, of the way his shoulders were shaking slightly. The bastard was trying not to laugh.
She turned to look at him, meaning to glare, but found his dark eyes already on her. The heat in his gaze stole whatever reprimand she’d been about to deliver. His thumb continued drawing torturous circles on her wrist, and she watched his pupils dilate as he noticed her reaction.
He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“I thought,” Leona said, dragging her attention back to Fiona, trying desperately to remember the question, “that he was the most stubborn man I’d ever met.”
Laughter rippled around the table.
“Aye, that sounds about right,” Hamish said cheerfully. “Did he scowl at ye? He scowls at everyone.”
“He did,” Leona confirmed, finally managing to pull her hand free from Murdock’s grasp. She immediately missed the warmth, the connection. “Though I gave as good as I got.”
“I like her,” Sheena declared, raising her cup. “To Lady Leona, who’s brave enough to stand up to our Beast!”
“To Lady Leona!” the table chorused, drinking deeply.
Leona smiled and nodded her thanks, but under the table, she felt Murdock’s hand return. This time, it settled on her knee, and the heat of his palm burned through the layers of her skirt. Her breath hitched.
Conversation flowed around them. Hamish told a story about a training mishap that had everyone laughing. Sheena shared clan gossip. Rufus, gradually relaxing, asked questions about the horses.
But Leona could barely focus. Murdock’s hand remained on her knee, not moving, just resting there like a brand. She was hyperaware of every point of contact, of the way her body responded to even this simple touch. Her skin felt too tight, too warm. Her pulse raced.
She reached for her wine cup, needing something to do with her hands, and her arm brushed against his. The contact made her shiver despite the warmth of the room.
“Cold?” Murdock asked, his voice pitched low for her ears only.
“Nay,” she whispered. “The opposite.”
