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The kiss was not tender, nor was it demanding. It was deliberate, slow, and confident. An undeniable reminder of the effect he had on her. His lips pressed over hers once… then again… before he gently caught her bottom lip between his teeth.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Then flew open when he drew back, leaving her breathless and warm from head to toe, wondering how a single man could upend her world with nothing more than a kiss.

There was no glint of triumph in Liam’s expression. No smug curve of victory on his lips. Instead, his face held something far more disarming. A flicker of shock, quickly shadowed by uncertainty, as if he could not quite believe what he’d done.

He recovered fast, masking the moment beneath a thin veil of nonchalance. “Ye are a beauty, Beitris,” he said quietly, the words rough but sincere, carrying an undercurrent that sent a tremor through her chest.

Then he turned, his steps steady despite the faint drag of his injured leg and began walking away.

Beitris stood rooted to the spot, her pulse thundering in her ears. She’d been kissed before, brief, awkward things stolen with lads she’d admired or offered during festival dares, but never like that. His touch still lingered on her lips, warm and maddeningly soft. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more: the shock of the kiss or how much she wished it hadn’t ended.

“Liam,” she called, taking a step toward him.

He paused midstride but didn’t turn.

“Wh-why did ye kiss me?” she asked, voice frustratingly breathless.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder, one brow lifting in that infuriatingly knowing way.

“Because ye looked at me,” he replied, “as though ye wanted me to.”

“I didnae!” she sputtered, too quickly, too loudly.

His lips twitched. “Beitris… ye stare at my mouth every time I see ye.”

Heat flared across her cheeks. “I dinnae stare at yer…”

“Aye. Ye do,” he interrupted, stepping just close enough for his voice to slip around her like smoke. “And if ye keep looking at me like that… I’ll kiss ye again.”

Her breath fled. Words tangled in her throat.

Liam’s mouth curved, wicked and warm. “We’ll speak again soon.” And with that, he turned away once more, his limp barely visible, as if he wanted her to see he could walk without weakness. Or perhaps as if he knew she was still watching him.

Beitris exhaled a shaky breath and forced her feet to move. She headed toward the village square, still reeling, and nearly collided with her cousin.

Camden gave a startled grunt, reaching instinctively to steady her. “I was looking for ye. Ellie Martin has gone into labor,” he said, slightly out of breath. “I think it best ye go see about her, rather than myself.”

Grateful for the distraction, anything to break the spell Liam McRay had cast, Beitris hurried with him toward the apothecary. “Stop and tell Da I cannae help him today.”

Camden nodded, but his attention drifted as a pretty lass, Moyra, rushed toward them. Her cheeks were flushed, her braid slipping loose, worry etched across her brow.

“It’s my sister, she is poorly,” Moyra said, her voice catching. “Can one of ye please come?”

“Camden will go with ye,” Beitris said quickly. She grabbed herbs from the shelves, small jars, and clean rags, stuffing them into a leather bag. “I’m going to see about a childbirth.”

As she stepped back into the festival’s bustle, lively music thrummed through the warm air. The laughter, the dancing, the swirl of bright colors, it all seemed hazier somehow, as though the world had shifted a little.

Without thinking, her fingertips drifted to her lips.

There was something magical in the air. Or perhaps it was simply Liam McRay.

Chapter Five

The evening had settled into a bone-deep chill, the kind that crept beneath cloaks and nipped at exposed skin. A thin veil of mist clung to the narrow creek as it murmured beside them, the water catching what little light remained.

“This is so exciting. I just ken we will find it!” Effie declared, her voice bright and buoyant as she hopped over a cluster of stones. “It was last seen somewhere near here.”

Liam bit back a groan as he hobbled after her. Two things grated on him at once. His leg was stiff, so he was forced to rely on his cane to navigate the uneven trail, and he’d been mercilessly bullied into chasing after some mystical rock that he was certain didn’t exist. As Effie slipped gracefully through a curtain of tall grass into a nearby clearing, a third irritation flared. She moved with ease while every step jarred his hip.