He stared at her for a moment and, without thinking, without breathing, he took another step towards her, eliminating what little space was between them. She didn’t retreat. With their bodies only inches away from one another, he peered into her deep, brown eyes.
“Let me see it,” he said huskily.
She seemed slightly dazed by his words and how close he was. Hope shook her head, but Graham was already lifting his hand to her chest.
With his eyes locked on hers, his large, calloused hand covered her smooth, elegant one. His fingers rolled her tiny treasure away and though he couldn’t remove it from her gownwithout undoing the pins that held it in place, he thumbed to the edge of the brass ornament until he found a latch.
Graham pressed on it and with a soft click it opened, like a little book in his hand. Her pink cheeks flushed and while he initially supposed she was embarrassed by how close he stood, as his eyes drifted down to the locket, he understood the real reason.
There in his palm, no larger than a skipping stone, showed the MacKinnon family plaid. He hadn’t been expecting that. To see the red and green tartan, held in place on her dress, very near her heart… well, it did something to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a long time, sounding worried. “I didn’t mean to offend you by wearing it.”
“You haven’t offended me,” he said, his tone rough. “You’ve surprised me, ’tis all. Where did you find it?”
“There was a torn piece in one of the wardrobes at Lismore Hall. I wouldn’t have taken it, but it was so small a piece that I thought it would be a sort of tribute to your family, in a way. I thought it would signify our appreciation, mine and mine sisters, for how kind you’ve been to our aunt over the years.”
What stories had Belle told her nieces about their friendship?
“What did Lady Belle say about me exactly?”
One of her slender shoulders shrugged as she lowered her head.
“She said that you’ve been a dear and loyal friend since she came to live here permanently, ten years ago. That you’ve always been kind and patient and that there was no better man she’s ever met.”
The crest of Graham’s cheeks burned at the praise Lady Belle had bestowed on him. It was an outright lie, of course. They had butted heads since the beginning and he had been a hellion to her in the beginning of their acquaintance.
“Did she really say that?”
“Yes.” Hope nodded. “Anyway, I thought it was a fitting thing to wear here, but now I think I was mistaken.”
“It’s not your fault. I was just surprised to see it. I don’t wear the MacKinnon plaid.” His gaze dropped back down to the locket. “I never have.”
“Never?” she asked, surprised. “Is it because of what happened with your father?”
He was quiet for a moment, unwilling to share such a private matter with her, and yet, unable to stop himself, he spoke at last.
“Aye,” he said slowly, eyes on his plaid. “Losing the house was my father’s biggest regret in life, or so my uncle told me. He was never able to recover from it. I was ashamed of him for a long time. There was never any amount of pride for being a MacKinnon. I wear the McTavish tartan out of respect for the uncle who took me in, but also, because I was ashamed of my own family’s legacy.”
He had never said the words out loud, and though Graham knew it was a dreadful thing to admit, it was true. Maybe he was a traitor, but he had always been ashamed of his father’s choices and thus had little pride in the plaid he was supposed to wear.
“I swore as a boy that I would not wear the MacKinnon tartan until I recovered what my father lost.”
She looked down at his hand. Her cool fingers wrapped around his. Suddenly, heat and desire shot through his veins. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you by wearing it.”
“You didn’t,” he said.
“No?” she replied, skeptically. “Then perhaps I shocked you. You don’t have a very pleased expression about you.”
Graham took a deep breath as he stared into her eyes.
“Don’t I?”
“No.”
“Then I supposed you did shock me. Not any more then my own feelings though.”
“How so?”
