“Well, it’s notnotinterfering.”
Hope squinted at him.
“I’m sorry, do you not like Rose?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Or maybe you don’t like your cousin.”
“Ack, what are you going on about?”
“Only that you seem rather put out that someone should try to bring them together, but where’s the harm in that?”
“If they were going to come together, it should be of their own volition. You lot are always meddling. Jared need not be led by any woman—”
“Ha,” Hope said sarcastically. “If the world waited for men to do as they ought, we’d still be waiting for, well …” She paused, trying to think of something clever.
Graham stepped towards her and she glanced up at him, utterly unable to think up a clever quip. Through the carts, moving bodies and tents, the light from the bonfire flickered against him as he approached her.
“Aye?” he said, his tone rather rough. “What would we be waiting for?”
“Um,” she said, staring into his heated gaze. She swallowed. “Well, something, I’m sure. Never you mind.”
Graham’s shadow covered face smirked down at her and a shiver went through her.
“I would have thoughtyouwould want to get Jared’s attention.”
Hope let out a small laugh.
“Me? Oh goodness, no. Mr. McTavish seems a very fine man, but I’ve had my fair share of men,” she said. Graham’s mouth tightened, and she suddenly realized how sordid that had sounded. “Oh! No, that’s not what I meant. I only mean to say that I’ve rather had my fill of, well, men’s courtesy. I’m quite happy to be left alone.”
“Is that so?” As he took another step forward, eliminating the remaining space between them. Hope’s heart raced. “Because of your Mr. Pennyton?”
“Pennington,” she corrected him. “And yes. That was enough experience for me, I’m afraid. I’ve quite had enough of masculine attention.”
Graham didn’t speak right away. They watched each other, the shadows of the distant bonfire dancing across his face. He appeared like he could be a pagan and her heart thudded, heaving against her chest, as if it were trying to break free.
Slowly, he raised his hand to her face. His fingers grazed her cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear.
“I don’t think you’ve ever really had masculine attention, Hope,” he said, his accent curling around her name like smoke around an ember. Hope opened her mouth to argue, but hesitated when he leaned forward. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips graze the edge of her ear. “Not the kind you deserve, at least.”
“D-deserve?” she stuttered slightly.
He breathed against her skin, his breath hot.
“Aye.”
Hope’s eyes closed as she swayed slightly, trying to fight off the growing desire to touch him. For years, Jacob had shamed her for her cravings to be held. He, along with her grandmother, had told her repeatedly that such longings were improper, but she never succeeded in quell them. She certainly couldn’t now. Graham was so close; the heat radiating off him was too tempting. Her resolve to keep her hands to herself broke.
Opening her eyes, she dragged her oval-shaped fingernails against the fabric of his sleeves as his hands came up to rest on her hips. She could have sworn she heard his breath catch as she bent her head and whispered into his ear.
“What, what sort of attention do I deserve, Mr. MacKinnon?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A tremor shook Graham’s body at the gentle scratching of her nails trailing over his arms. She was restrained, hesitant almost, and he wondered if it was because she was truly unsure or whether it was just that she had been brought up that way.
