Tracking the progress of the man’s red-gold hair through the crowd, Emma flinched when she realized a familiar face was staring up at her.
Thomas had spotted her at last, then.
He was standing just below the landing, oblivious to the jostling crowd. He waved, trying to get her attention, and she pointedly looked away.
Why not go find Astrid?I’m sure she’d be good company for the rest of the evening.
The man pushed past Thomas on his way back to the bar, clutching two mugs of ale in his hands. Thomas glanced at him, briefly irritated, and his gaze sharpened.
Both of them watched the oblivious redhead make his way to the stairs, the mugs of ale held aloft. Emma watched realization dawn on Thomas, then his face went blank, unreadable.
She tossed her hair, which was tickling her exposed skin—she wasn’t used to having it loose like this—and pointedly met the man’s eye, smiling.
“Thank ye,” she said, accepting her mug of ale. He’d obviously given her the best one, with the frothiest, creamiest head and the cleanest tankard. “I never asked, what’s yer name?”
“I’m Peter McCrea,” the man replied. “Laird McCrea, that is. Well, not yet. I willbe Laird McCrea one day, but right now, my father holds that title.” He grimaced apologetically, taking a sip of his ale.
He’d moved closer to her now, so close that their shoulders were almost brushing. She wasn’t sure that she liked that, but it still felt less crowded than the chaos downstairs.
“The place seems full of lairds and ladies,” she commented. “I feel out of place, for sure.”
Peter snorted. “Me Da always says that a healer is never out of place, no matter where they go. He says that good soldiers, workers, and craftsmen are never cheap but that excellent healers are truly priceless.”
“I think I’d like yer Da, then,” Emma said, smiling.
Peter laughed at that, a little more uproariously than was strictly necessary. He drank a few big gulps of his ale, his eyes watching her over the brim of the tankard. He set it down on the banister behind him, allowing him to shuffle a few inches closer to her.
This time, she moved away just a little. Peter’s flirting was almost certainly harmless, but that could change if she seemed to entertain it.
Almost without thinking, Emma sought out Thomas in the crowd. To her surprise, he was gone. She scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, seeking out clear green eyes and disordered black hair.
She saw him at last, one foot on the bottom of the staircase. That gave her something of a shock. Was he coming up here? She hoped not.
I don’t want to talk to him.
Peter had his back to the staircase, so there was no way that she could turn her back without snubbing him. Clenching her jaw, she watched Thomas slowly but surely mount the staircase. There could be no doubt as to why he was coming up there. His steely gaze was fixed on her.
No, not here. Peter. Poor, oblivious Peter.
“Do ye know a woman named Astrid?” Emma asked suddenly, fighting to keep her gaze from flicking over Peter’s shoulder and fixing on Thomas.
The last thing she wanted was for Peter to turn around and find Thomas creeping up on him like some sort of prowling predator.
“Astrid? No.”
“Ah. Well, I met her earlier. It seems that she is afriendof my fiancée.”
The inflection she put onfriendcould not be missed. Peter blinked, obviously not expecting the conversation to go that way, but recovered himself quickly.
“Oh, that’s awkward. But I’m sure it’s in the past, eh?”
She shrugged. “I’m nae sure of anything anymore. This woman, Astrid, was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Who wouldnae want her?”
Peter tipped his head to one side. “I thinkyeare the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She rolled her eyes, and he had the grace to blush. “Clumsy, Peter, clumsy.”
“Sorry, it sounded better in my head,” Peter replied, laughing self-consciously. “But ye are beautiful. And that’s a fine dress.”
