Page 91 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

Dare she?

Aye. Given his hopeful expression, she could. She dared.

Slyly, surreptitiously, she stepped a tad closer and took his hand in hers.

Ah, it was warm and large and . . . he squeezed, just ever so slightly. And then, he stroked her with his thumb.

It was secretive caress, hidden in the shadows, there in the folds of her skirt, but it spoke volumes.

They stood, in silent reflection, watching the moon move across the sky and dance over the sea, touching. It was an exquisite moment.

One that ended too soon.

“Well, there you are!” Declan’s voice boomed, catching them off guard and shattering the peace.

Isobel released Nick’s hand. When he frowned at her, she lifted a silent brow as if to say, What am I to do?

Declan gave them little time to finish this unspoken conversation. He pushed between them and clapped his arms around their shoulders . . . which was decidedly too familiar.

Isobel scowled at him and he smirked.

“I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me,” he said to the company.

“’Tis not you we’re avoiding,” Sorcha said sweetly.

“Ah. Yes. But still. Come back to the party. They’re about to start dancing again and I doona believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

Elizabeth sniffed. “You’re far too old for me, Declan.”

He clutched at his chest, as he was wont to do. “You slay me, Miss Pennington.” He turned to Ellie. “How about you, Lady Eloise?”

She chuckled. “You’re far too charming for me, Declan.”

“Would you like me to be more broody?”

“Some ladies prefer their Scots broody,” Catriona said, which caught Declan’s attention.

“Really?” He waggled his brows in a decidedly un-broody fashion. “Come along then, Lady Catriona. Come dance a reel with me, lass. I promise to be broody.”

Cat blew out a breath and pretended extreme reluctance, but Isobel could tell she was delighted at the invitation.

“Do go,” she urged her friend.

“Do,” Sorcha said. “The four of us can protect Edward.”

“Protect Edward?” Declan barked a laugh. “Viscount Stirling? With an assemblage of female guardians?”

“A phalanx, if you please,” Elizabeth said.

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Poor Edward does need protecting.”

“He most certainly does,” Ellie said.

Sorcha leaned in and hissed, “Celia Swofford is on the hunt.”

Declan shuddered. “Ah yes. I see. Perhaps you are right.”

“We most certainly are,” Elizabeth said militantly.