Enraptured by the Highlander

But why do I care anymore? I have the testimony that he did kill my brother. Why is this still bothering me?

The answer was one she did not want to acknowledge—that a part of her still believed Caelan was innocent, even with the inked proof of his crime resting in her father’s office.

“You’ve never liked these dances,” her father said as he came closer.

Broken from her musing, she looked up with a dry smile, “No, I have not.”

“Lord Islington,” he said while taking a seat, “How do you find him?”

Following the direction of her father’s attention, Adelaine spotted the man in question, holding a glass and speaking with another noble. His light-colored hair was a focus point. He was undeniably handsome. She shook her head. “He is charming and courteous, I’ll admit that, but I don’t know enough to make a good judgment on him yet. At present, he seems like a good man.”

“Good,” her father nodded. “Because I think it’s time for you to find a husband. There are not many here who I would entrust you to, but Islington is from good stock.”

Somehow, Adelaine was not surprised by this. In fact, she should have expected it sooner. “He seems quite taken with me.”

“Even better,” her father said as he stood. “I know you’ll make a prudent decision, Adelaine.”

The dance ended and the people flocked to the refreshment tables for drinks. Adelaine spotted Islington as he ended his conversation and began to come toward her. Keeping her expression neutral, she gave him a tiny welcoming smile when he sat next to her.

“I’ve spoken with the musicians, the allemande is next,” he said. “Why didn’t you participate in the last two dances?”

“Why didn’t you?” she retorted easily.

He chuckled, then glanced over to the men and women at the tables, drinking liberally, “Touché. I find the steps to those dances a bit too…vulgar.”

“I concur,” Adelaine replied. “With all that hopping and leaping, it bares all that should be kept hidden. No one but I should know the color of my stockings.”

Islington twisted to look at her. “It’s not a scandalous red, is it?”

“You’ll never know,” she said.

A slow, amused smile—so different from Caelan’s—tugged at his lips. Though both reactions came from surprise, the difference was that Caelan’s was more natural, Islington’s seemed to have a slyer, knowing, effect to it. Instantly, she disliked herself for knowing the difference so she could compare the two.

“Does anyone know this side of you?” he asked.

She shook her head, “No one has really taken the time or well, bothered.”

Except for Caelan. I’ve shown this side of me to him.

Again, she felt cross. Why was he eclipsing her mind so many times? The opening strains of the Allemande came through and Islington stood and offered his hand to her. “May I have this dance, My Lady?”

Offing her hand to him, she was taken to the dan

ce floor. They moved fluidly through the sidesteps and slow turns until the music grew that and so did their steps. Their symmetry was lovely and Adelaine actually had a delightful time with him. During the last turn, she caught a flash of approval on her father’s face and felt conflicted.

When Islington bowed to her amidst the clap and she curtsied, again she saw her father nodding. Perhaps he had already chosen for her. Turning back to the man, she said. “Thank you.”

“No,” he smiled that rakish smile. “Thank you. Care for a drink?”

“Please,” she said, feeling a little parched as they moved off to the tables.

“Water again?” he asked.

She considered. “Not this time, wine will be fine for me.”

The one that had the decanters of wine was in a nearly-secluded alcove, which was put there by design to deter the guests from drinking too early. They were alone and it was quite scandalous, but the alcove was open.

He reached for the wine. “I’m surprised again. What other surprises do you have for me?”