“Why are you so invested in this?”
Belle's eyes shifted and Graham got the distinct impression that she was hiding something from him. She drifted away from him, refusing to answer his question.
“Do whatever you wish, MacKinnon. But don't blame me when your dream is taken away. Permanently.”
She raised her cane in greeting at someone across the room and left him alone against the far wall of the hall. Belle was behaving suspiciously, and he was determined to figure out what she was up to and why she was so eager for this match between him and Hope.
Scanning the room as he walked, Graham saw Hope standing a little way away from everyone else. Knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid her all night, Graham advanced toward her quickly. When she caught sight of him approaching her, he could have sworn her eyes brightened.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hope swallowed hard as Graham neared. No man had ever looked at her the way he was watching her now, and though she couldn't explain why, her entire body felt hot. He wore a green and blue plaid, shirtsleeves, and a formal jacket, and Hope was convinced she had never seen a more handsome man.
Hope's eyes drifted down as his bare shins kicked out from beneath his tartan and she had to steel herself to keep from shivering. The crowd seemed to part as he moved, and she held her breath. Though she had seen plenty of kilt-wearing gentlemen that evening, the thought of touching Graham's muscular legs…
Oh no. Not touching. She could never do that.
“What?” she squawked as he halted before her.
“Excuse me?” His brow furrowed. “I didn't say anything.”
“Oh no, not you,” she said, shaking her head.
He smirked at her.
“Then who?”
She shook her head again.
“I'm sorry, I'm… I'm just a little overwhelmed by this soiree,” she said, surveying the ancient room. “It's very beautiful here.”
“Aye,” Graham agreed, glancing around. “This was my mother's childhood home.”
“She was the laird's daughter?”
“Aye, the chieftain of the Clan McTavish. It was once one of the largest clans in the highlands.”
“But not anymore?”
“Not for a long time,” he said, focusing back at her. “But McTavish kept his people as close as he could, and while others fell away, this one stayed. Diminished, but still strong.”
“And from what I understand, you help employ quite a few people from the clan, correct?” she remembered what Rose had told her at the market.
“Who told you that?”
“Rose.”
“Did she now?” He glanced around.
Hope followed his gaze, but she couldn't quite see over everyone's heads with the ease that he could. Instead, her eyes fastened on the tartan sash that he wore diagonally over his shoulder. “You're wearing a kilt.”
Graham gazed back at Hope, and one of his brows arched slowly.
“Aye.”
Heat crawled up Hope’s neck.
“I thought you didn't like kilts.”
