Page 70 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

David's growl was ferocious enough to scare even a mountain wild cat. The young man jumped, spinning to find David right behind him.

"Me laird! I didnae—I was just—" The boy's face went red. "I was goin' tae relay me maither's compliments on the celebration."

"Were ye now."

It wasn't a question. The boy seemed to recognize that, because he took a step back, then another, his courage clearly failing.

"Perhaps another time," he mumbled, then fled into the crowd.

Elinor watched him go, then turned to David with raised eyebrows. "Was that really necessary?"

"Was what necessary?"

"Terrifying that poor boy. He was being perfectly polite."

"I didnae terrify him."

"You absolutely did. He ran away."

"He didnae run. He walked. Quickly."

"Because you looked at him like you were planning his execution." But there was amusement in her voice, not anger. "The poor thing was just passing along his mother's compliments."

"Aye, well." David stepped closer, close enough to smell the lavender in her hair mixed with the heather from her crown. "He can find someone else to compliment. Ye're spoken fer."

"Am I?" Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

"Ye agreed yesterday. In the kitchen." He held out his hand. "I asked if ye'd save me a dance. Ye said yes."

"I did, didn't I?" She placed her hand in his, and the simple touch sent heat racing through his veins.

They moved together across the floor, and David was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched—her hand in his, his palm against her waist, the brush of her skirts against his legs.

Other couples danced around them, but he barely noticed. His entire focus had narrowed to the woman in his arms.

"Ye look beautiful taenight," he said quietly. "I dinnae think I told ye that yet."

Color rose in her cheeks. "You're just saying that because you feel guilty about scaring off that poor boy."

"I'm sayin' it because it's true." He spun her gently, then pulled her back. "That gown suits ye. And the heather in yer hair—" He reached up, touching one of the purple blooms. "The children chose well."

"They were very enthusiastic about the decorating process."

"I saw. Ye were good with them."

"They're easy to be good with. Children usually are, when you actually pay attention to them." Something flickered across her face. "My father never paid attention to anyone unless they could be useful to him."

"Then he was a fool." David's hand tightened at her waist.

The music swelled, and he pulled her closer, close enough that propriety might have objected if anyone were paying attention.

"And I ken," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "that I'm the luckiest bastard in this hall because I get tae dance with ye while every other man here can only wish they could."

"That's—" She swallowed. "You're very eloquent tonight."

"I'm tellin' the truth."

"The truth is dangerous."