Chapter Seven
In the ballroom,Ross paused, scanning the guests mingling, looking for Kitt.
Alexander scanned the room as well, but for Clarissa. He found her on the dance floor, stiffly waltzing with someone Alexander didn’t recognize. She looked uncomfortable.
Her dance partner was small of stature. Lean and on the short side.
Anger roiled in his gut. “Excuse me gentlemen. I will join ye momentarily. My apologies.” As if of their own volition, his feet moved forward until he was at Clarissa’s side.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I believe Miss Gordon had promised this dance to me.”
Clarissa smiled in relief and accepted the hand he offered. “Your Grace,” she acquiesced.
Flabbergasted, the man just stared, open-mouthed as Alexander led Clarissa away and left him standing alone. He snapped his mouth shut and threw a glare towards them as he stomped from the floor.
One hand on Clarissa’s waist, he clasped her hand in his other and took the lead as they swept around the floor. “Ye looked like ye needed an escape,” he said, close to her ear. The urge to dart out his tongue and suck her earlobe into his mouth strong.
“Was it that obvious?” She giggled, tilting her head towards the floor.
He nodded and spun her around. “’Twas.”
“I wasna trying to be rude, but the man had two left feet. I think he stepped more on my toes than he did the floor.”
Concern knitted his brows together. “Are ye hurt?” He pulled away a bit, his eyes falling to her slippered feet.
“I’m fine. Ye saved me just in time. And my feet,” she added with a laugh.
“Well, I am glad I could be of service.” He pulled her closer, ignoring the people that watched them. “How many people have ye danced with tonight?”
Clarissa worried her bottom lip with her teeth, making it plump and dark pink.
The gesture shot straight to his groin, and he took a slight step back. This woman was going to be the death of him.
“Too many to count, I’m afraid.”
“Any takers for the future Mr. Gordon?” he teased.
She chuckled. “Ye jest. I’ve naught interest in finding a husband here.” Her eyes clashed with his at the word husband and they both sucked in a breath.
“None whatsoe’er?” he implored. Certain his feelings for her were reciprocated, he pushed. Knowing he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. No one here deserved to have Clarissa on their arm.
Barring him, of course.
Clarissa studied his face as they danced on but didn’t answer his question. Did that mean she had found someone worthy of being her husband?
Was that person him?
Before he could ponder any further, the song ended, and they separated. He was about to ask her for the next dance, her dance card be damned, but Nicholas stepped in.
“I would verra much like to dance with my sister for this next dance if ye dinna mind?” Nicholas pierced him with a look that warned him to move on, and with a sigh, Alexander acquiesced.
He needed a drink anyway. And some fresh air. The punch in the gut feeling he got seeing Clarissa dancing with another man was unexpected. It would do him some good to get his emotions under control before meeting with Kitt. He was more likely to get what he wanted with a gentlemanly countenance rather than that of a mad dog.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Alexander spun at the sound of the familiar voice. Finlay Primrose and Gunn Burnett stood there, arms crossed, smiles on their faces.
“I didna ken ye were attending,” he confessed to his two close friends. He looked around. “Is Malcolm hiding around here somewhere as well?” He asked of their other friend. Including Nicholas, the five of them were a tight-knit group. As close as brothers. They’d grown up in the same circle. They’d gone to war together. Fought together.
