“The Laird wins!” Angus’s voice broke the moment, and Murdock turned to accept congratulations from the other competitors.
But even as he moved through the crowd, even as men clapped his back and praised his strength, his eyes kept finding hers. Again and again, like he couldn’t help himself. Like she was a magnet and he was helpless to resist her pull.
Sheena chuckled beside her. “As I said, that man is well and truly caught. And from the look on yer face, so are ye.”
Leona sank back onto the bench, her legs too unsteady to hold her. “I daenae ken what ye mean.”
“Daenae ye?” The older woman’s smile was gentle, knowing. “Ye look at each other like the rest of the world doesnae exist. Like if ye could, ye’d disappear somewhere private and nae come out for days.”
Heat scorched Leona’s cheeks. “It’s nae like that. We’re… It’s new. We barely ken each other.”
“Time doesnae matter when it’s right.” Sheena’s expression turned wistful. “I kent I’d marry me Peter the first time I saw him. Took him three months to work up the courage to court me properly, but I kent. The heart kens what the heart kens.”
But this wasn’t real, Leona wanted to protest. Their betrothal was fake, temporary, a solution to problems rather than a love match.
Except it didn’t feel fake when Murdock touched her. Didn’t feel temporary when he looked at her like that. Didn’t feel like just a solution when her entire body responded to his proximity like flame to kindling.
What was happening to her?
Murdock approached the platform, still shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin. He moved with that predatory grace that made her heart race, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Lady Leona.” He extended his hand, and she took it without thinking. “Walk with me?”
It wasn’t really a question. More a command wrapped in courtesy.
She stood, her hand small in his much larger one, and let him lead her away from the platform. Away from Sheena’s knowing smile and the crowd’s curious eyes.
Away from safety and into something far more dangerous.
“Where are we going?” she asked, breathless.
“Somewhere we can talk.” His thumb stroked over her knuckles, sending sparks up her arm. “Without an audience.”
Talk. Right. Because talking was definitely what the look in his eyes promised.
14
They’d barely taken three steps away from the platform when a group of women descended upon them, chattering excitedly.
“Lady Leona! Lady Leona, ye must join us!”
“The sack race is about to begin!”
“Aye, we need more competitors!”
Murdock felt Leona’s hand tighten around his, felt her step closer to him. But then she looked at the women, Ailsa, young mothers, girls barely out of childhood, and something in her expression softened.
“A sack race?” She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes.
He should say no. Should pull her somewhere private where they could finish what they’d started in his study. Where he could kiss her without an audience, touch her without propriety’s constraints.
But the hopeful looks on the women’s faces, the way Leona’s eyes had lit up with interest despite her nervousness, made him release her hand.
“Go,” he said, surprising himself. “I’ll watch.”
Her smile transformed her face, bright and genuine, and so beautiful it made his chest tighten. “Ye willnae mind?”
“I said go, lass.” He stepped back, giving her space, even though every instinct screamed at him to keep her close. “Show them what ye can do.”
