Page 23 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Will took the parchment as Trenton smiled archly. He sensed he was enjoying his new role as matchmaker. There was one problem.

"Who is she, this lady?" said Will, bringing his perfect brow into a frown. But before he could get a reply, Trenton had vanished.

Will was left staring there, into the open, as a literal merry hell swirled about him.

* * *

"El…Ellen? Or Alice? Maybe Evelin? God's tooth! I will never be able to find this woman!"

Poor Will was bereft, cast into the middle of the hall, carousing dames all around. Every now and then, one of them would shimmy past him, sending a look of quizzical pity.

Naturally, Trenton was nowhere to be found. Will felt a pit in his heart open up. Trenton disappearing was never good news. The last time this had happened, he reappeared in the stables with a comely serving maid. The ensuing scandal had rocked London, and he was only just beginning to recover.

As Will glanced about, wondering how to find this enigmatic female, he almost tripped headfirst into the melee. As he attempted to get up, a sky-high chopine intercepted him.

Then, the shoe's careless owner careered straight into his hand.

It took all of Will's strength not to cry out. Instead, he confined himself to coughing in a manly fashion.

"I beg your pardon, madam," said Will politely. Very slowly, he got to his feet. Brushing himself down, he reflected on the madness of having to apologize for someone else stepping on him.

He was still brushing himself down and had not quite risen when he noticed the lady who had stamped on him. Staring up at the bright eyes, he got a jolt of shock.

It was her!

"Och!" spluttered the woman. At least, that was what it sounded like. Will did not quite get time to decipher what she had said—if, in fact, she had said anything. Will wondered if it had been a sneeze. The woman rushed to speak an avalanche of vowels that did not resonate with Will's ears. Then, as she was halfway through what he supposed was an apology, she stopped, placing her hand on her mouth.

Will wondered if she was sick.

"Madam?" he inquired politely. The woman's face was cupped as if she was having the vapors, or perhaps about to go into a swoon. Wondering if she needed steadying, he brought his hand to her shoulder just lightly, but enough to secure her from her faint.

"Dear lady, how are you feeling? Come, pray, sit a while!"

Without waiting for her response, he took the dazed girl's hand and led her to one of the benches. There, the girl sat down, a little unsurely, as Will handed her a glass.

"Drink this, miss," he said, as politely as he could muster. Yet, all the while, he could not help staring closer at her.

Now that he had her to himself, he was not disappointed. Close up, she was even more alluring than at a distance. Bringing his eyes to hers, Will found himself smiling.

"Better?" he asked, as she drained the small goblet of wine. In hindsight, perhaps more wine was not the best thing to give to an overwrought girl, but it was the only thing to hand.

Finishing the last drop of the claret, the woman nodded. Neatly, she dotted her mouth with a handkerchief from her person. For the briefest of minutes, Will glanced oddly at it.

His brows drew together. That was funny. It looked extraordinary like one of his.

Handkerchiefs like that, fine and laced, were not so common. Anyhow, before he had any chance to think about it further, she had folded it away and sat there smiling.

The lady nodded to answer his question, but Will noted she did not actually speak. He was about to ask if she had a sore throat, but then thought the better of it.

The table was deserted; all the guests were now up on their feet and joining in the dancing. The ones that were not stood earnestly off to the sides, talking.

No one was around to witness their conversation, yet for some reason, that only led to it being more stilted.

"Do you come from afar, milady?" inquired Will courteously. He had to say something. The fact was, being there alone with this beauteous lady was giving him demonic thoughts.

Suddenly, he could not get the vision of her scented touch out of his mind. In his head, they were kissing just like that—no warning, no preamble. And in the fetid depths of his imagination, they were already on to the next course.

Her breasts were spread pert and trim like the final dish in the sumptuous ball.