Chapter 1
“Another dram?”
Leah looked up at Oskar, who was grinning at her and holding up a flagon of whisky. The ceilidh was in full swing, with many members of Clan MacIrvin dancing energetically in the center of the room.
She laughed at him as he poured more whisky into the glass beside her. Her arms were currently occupied with the new heir to the MacIrvin estate. The baby had been born with a thick head of black hair and beautiful blue eyes, just like his mother.
Leah cooed at him softly, lifting her forefinger to his clenched fist and watching in delight as his tiny digits curled around it.
“Ye have a way with the bairns, lass,” Oskar declared as he placed the flagon on a nearby table and stood beside her, watching the dancers.
The main hall of the castle had been commandeered for the celebration of Evander’s birth. It was a high stone room with a long central space and arched windows. The musicians played in the far corner, the lilting Scottish music, which Leah was growing to love, echoing all around them.
“This is the only age at which I can tolerate men,” she said pointedly, and Oskar threw back his head and laughed.
“Och, aye? I shall remember that.”
Leah looked down at the beautiful boy in her arms and squeezed him gently as he looked up at her.
“Not all men, just you,” she said as he pulled her finger to his mouth and started chewing on it with his toothless gums.
Leah looked up and smiled warmly as her best friend, Daphne, came to stand beside her husband. The birth had been a painful one, and it had taken several weeks for her to recover, but some of the color was now returning to her cheeks.
“How are ye feelin’?” Oskar asked, a deep warmth in his voice as he looked at his wife.
“Och, I’ll be fine,” Daphne replied.
Leah suppressed a laugh as she heard the unfamiliar Scottish word from her friend’s mouth. She wagered Daphne would sound like a Highlander before the year was out.
“Everyone is enjoying themselves?” Daphne asked, looking slightly anxious.
Oskar smiled, placing a gentle hand on her back. “Everyone is just fine, lassie.”
“How is my boy?” she asked as Leah stood, passing the baby into her arms.
“He’s very handsome,” Leah replied, “just like his mother.”
Oskar and Daphne both chuckled at that as they fussed over their son.
Leah lifted her glass to her lips, the warm spice flooding her taste buds as she swallowed the whisky.
She felt content and settled for the first time in many weeks.
Now that Daphne had recovered, she was thoroughly enjoying her time in Scotland, but she knew it could not last forever. She had already outstayed her welcome.
She swallowed convulsively at the thought of facing her father again—of being given the name of her betrothed, a man she may not know.
Daphne would have asked her to live with them in the MacIrvin estate forever if she could. But the Earl had made it clear that Leah had one month before she had to return, and she had already stayed for two.
At some point, she would have to face the consequences—but not tonight. She closed her eyes, listening to the lively chorus and the rhythmic thudding of footsteps over the flagstones, wishing she could somehow hide herself here forever or escape to a foreign land where no one knew her name.
She opened her eyes to find Daphne watching her with an assessing gaze and a frown of concern.
“You look pale. Are you quite well?”
Leah quickly plastered on a smile and drank the rest of the whisky in one fiery swallow. “Of course. It is wonderful to be around those I love most in the world.”
Daphne raised her hand, and Leah took it immediately, smiling as her friend interlaced their fingers.
“You seem troubled,” Daphne murmured, keeping her voice low enough that Oskar could not overhear.
“It is alright. I am just thinking of when I must leave this place. It is not a pleasant thought.”
Daphne squeezed her fingers. “You know you can stay as long as you need to.”
Leah stepped sideways to place her hand around Daphne’s waist and tightened her grip. “You are the best friend in the world.”
Daphne was about to reply when Oskar suddenly took a step forward, his body rigid with tension as he looked at the entrance of the room.
“Well, I’ll be!” he declared softly.
As the latest dance ended, the sudden halt in the music seemed to be coupled with a hush falling over the crowd.
Leah followed Oskar’s gaze, feeling goosebumps rise all over her skin as she observed the man who had just arrived. She was not the only one staring—he appeared to have caught the whole room’s attention.
He was incredibly tall, standing only an inch or two below the top of the arched doorway. His muscular shoulders looked cramped in the narrow space, and Leah couldn’t help but notice his bulging biceps.
His hair was long and black, his cheeks sharp and angular. She rather fancied that his face resembled that of a hawk. His dark eyes surveyed the room, or at least one of them did. There was a patch across his right eye, hiding the edges of a scar from view. She shivered as she took him in.
That is the most handsome man I have ever seen.
She felt a little foolish at her sudden desperation to meet him.
“I never believed he would come,” Daphne said beside her as the baby wriggled and fussed in her arms. She did not sound angry or upset, just intrigued.
Oskar, who had frozen in place, suddenly raised an arm in the air. “Laird MacWatt, ye are most welcome.”
The rest of the clan took that as their cue to continue the celebrations, and a lively tune erupted as another dance began.
Laird MacWatt, who had barely moved for a full minute, relaxed his stance at Oskar’s invitation and made his way toward them, skirting around the dancefloor, observing the room before him with an assessing gaze.
Leah looked him over as he advanced, finding everything about him intriguing. He even walked differently from the men she was used to. He was so broad and imposing that his whole chest seemed to swing with him, his muscular physique entirely unfamiliar compared to the fops of English Society.
She imagined how he would look coming to tea with her mother, his enormous bulk taking up the entire chaise, his hands trying to balance their delicate china. She suppressed a snigger as she imagined the awkwardness of the scene.
When she looked up, however, it was to see his dark gaze fixed on hers, a slight frown on his brow as his one good eye roamed over her and darted away again.
Oskar stepped forward and held out a hand to the newcomer. “Ye… came,” he remarked, his tone not entirely jovial. “I wasnae sure ye would.”
MacWatt took his hand and shook it, his gaze seeming to evaluate everything about Oskar in a few short seconds. “Ye invited me, did ye nae?” he grunted.
Leah saw Daphne raise her eyebrows at his comment, but she found herself admiring the bluntness of his response. She had come to value the honesty and straightforward nature of the Highlanders. It was refreshing compared to London Society, where everything was entangled in webs of deceit.
As she stared at the newcomer, she found that she could not hold back a laugh.
“He has a point, My Laird. You did not seem so surprised to see your other guests,” she said teasingly, looking up at Oskar with a smile.
Oskar and Daphne seemed amused by her comment, but when she looked at MacWatt, her breath hitched in her throat.
His gaze was like an electric current in the air between them, and her heart hammered as she fought to hold it. As his eye examined her, it looked as though it were entirely eclipsed by the pupil, the center black as coal.
An unfamiliar dark heat erupted in her gut as he stared her down.
Perhaps the connection was only momentary, but to Leah, it seemed to hold her in place, suspended for an eternity.
That look held something inside it that mirrored a deeper longing—a yearning she had felt all her life but never acknowledged.
A desire to be free, a desire to be seen. She felt branded by it.
What is the matter with me? I am not going to swoon over a man I have just met.
As quickly as his attention had found hers, he looked away. His lips thinned into a hard line, the candlelight glancing off a thick vein pulsing in his temple.
Was he affronted by what I said?
Leah felt an unwelcome skitter of unease run down her spine.
Can the man not take a joke?
MacWatt bowed low to Daphne and gave a courteous nod to baby Evander before departing. He walked across the room and took a seat as far from them as possible.
Leah frowned. She was not accustomed to men ignoring her, particularly when they did not even bother to ask for her name.
Usually, when she was introduced to a man, she enjoyed some lively debate and a battle of wits to ensure he was not a simpleton.
Clearly, this Laird MacWatt had no interest in polite society.
She was irritated and even hurt that he would not wish to learn who she was. She felt angry for the first time in many weeks, and, for a moment, it overtook everything else.
“Barbarians probably don’t like women who talk,” she said loudly to Daphne, who gave her a warning glare that she ignored. “Perhaps he merely wishes to address the lairds in the company and leave the women to their children.”
She sniffed imperiously as she said the words, keeping her eyes on the dancing couples.
In her peripheral vision, however, she was focused solely on the shape of MacWatt across the room. As she spoke the words, and they carried across a lull in the music, she watched his shoulder tense up and his head turn back in her direction.
She could not help but look back at him—long enough for Oskar to notice.
“Dinnae even think about it,” he admonished.
She turned back to him questioningly.
Oskar fixed her with a knowing stare. “Nae for ye, lass.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and raising her eyebrows at him.
“Ye do. Pay him nay mind, Leah.” His voice was low and heavy. “He’s a ruthless warrior.”
Leah cocked her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “Like you, you mean?” she replied boldly.
Oskar only shook his head. “Just heed me on this one. Ye dinnae want to catch his attention. It never ends well.”