Page 9 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Actually, it was not too hard. Now, she was within the laird's attentive gaze. Instinctively, she smiled back, this time naturally.

"Well, that's nae for me tae say," said Laird Greenock nobly. He took Fiona's hand and kissed it gently. Fiona felt a rush run right through her. The laird's gentle touch left an imprint on her skin that took some time to work off. "But ye couldnae ask for a better lady."

He smiled genuinely, sending another great wave rocket around Fiona's body. This, she hadn't anticipated. The laird she had met a year ago at the wedding had been charming, but the man standing in front of her was something else.

Fiona struggled at getting her heartbeat under control. She knew it was stupid, just some sweet words from a man she barely knew and she was reeling. What was happening to her? Pulling herself up short, Fiona forced herself to smile and try to act like an adult.

Behind her, Fiona just knew that her sisters were probably giggling, but she paid them no heed. She was too busy controlling herself.

"Please, allow me tae show ye tae the table," said Fiona, remembering she was meant to be the hostess. Gingerly, she led the laird to his seat at the head of the table.

The laird smiled, showing his almost perfect teeth. "Thank ye," he said, smoothly. He waited for her to get seated, which she did, and with more than a trace of nerves, Fiona sat down.

It was hard for her to focus on the food as the feast progressed. And there was a lot of it.

Dish after dish trotted out, fresh from the kitchens, and if Fiona had been paying it any attention at all, she would have realized that this was the finest banquet that Duncan Castle had ever served up, even more so than at the last wedding.

But as it was, Fiona could barely take a mouthful of the food. She was too busy watching him.

Laird Greenock spent most of the feast with his eyes firmly in one place—her. And even though the sumptuous food was exquisite, Fiona did not taste a morsel of it.

Her eyes were clasped tight upon the handsome laird. But every time he looked, she instantly dropped her gaze, immediately diving behind the tall serving jug in front of her.

"This is a vera gusty bite, my lady," the laird exclaimed, halfway through a large piece of roast game. "I'll have tae come here more often!"

There was a ripple of approval from the table. And without even looking, Fiona knew that her sisters were glancing at each other in amusement.

"Well, I'm nae the lady," replied Fiona, modestly. She kept her eyes cast down, but every now and then they darted to the laird. "But thank ye very much, sir."

"Clyde," said the laird, and immediately another wave of amusement ran through the guests.

"Clyde," repeated Fiona, trying the name out on his tongue. Of course, she remembered him from last year. And she had already used his first name, but that had been a long time ago and under less formal circumstances.

"Well, thank ye, Clyde," said Fiona primly. "But as I said, I'm nae the lady yet."

"Well, ye should be," said Laird Clyde, to Aileen and Lissie's instant mirth. Behind her, she could hear them giggling, with Lissie stuffing handkerchiefs over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughs. "An' if it were up tae me, I would see tae it straight away!"

"Nae that it's any o' my business, but I think they're eejits if they dinnae want tae make ye their lady o' the clan!"

As he said this, Clyde tilted his head over toward the table where the elders were seated, giving them a curious glance. Then, he shook his head.

"Nae that it's any o' my business," he said again. Then, he gave her a sudden wink.

Grace saw it. Lissie and Aileen saw it. God knows if half the clan elders saw it.

Fiona broke out in an uncontrolled sweat. Up and down, shivers ran around her body. This was entirely unprecedented. In her head, total confusion. She just did not know how to proceed.

It was not as if she had a lot of experience with men, but even so, she had literally no idea what to do with one who was flirting so obviously with her.

"Och, I, um, have some more wine," she said clumsily. Her mouth had gone dry, and she stumbled over every word. And now it felt as if her limbs had gone out in sympathy.

Just as she tried to reach for the wine goblet, she missed, and knocked the whole bloody carafe off the table. Crimson wine spilled down, pouring across the table to the floor. The white linen tablecloth looked as if surgery had just been performed on it. Already, Fiona could hear housemaids tutting in dismay. Desperately, she looked around for some way to stem the flow.

"Och, so clumsy o' me," said Clyde. To her surprise, he produced a large napkin and began mopping up the tide of wine pouring from the table. "Excuse me..."

Clyde stood up and bade his servants to come over and help clean the spill. Fiona watched, pink-cheeked as they cleared it up.

"I'm so sorry," Clyde repeated, as Fiona looked at him in amazement. The spill had been all her fault, and at least half the table had seen that, but now Clyde was taking the blame for it.