Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,39

mouth.

“As it happens, I am free at this moment,” he said at last. “Miss Andrewson.” He held out his hand..

Jaime stared at his outstretched fingers— long, slim, capable fingers—aware that the entire room was staring at them. Aunt Beatrice nudged her in the small of her back, and Jaime was forced to take his offered appendage.

His palm was warm but not overly so. When his fingers wound around her hand, she felt comforted—which she hated—and nervous all at once.

“Ye did no’ have to offer,” she murmured.

“On the contrary, Miss Andrewson, I had no choice. I thought ye were no’ coming,” he murmured so as not to be overheard by the other guests.

“I changed my mind.” Now was her chance to tell him she wished to speak to him privately, but they’d reached the dance floor and taken their positions with the other dancers. And to leave would draw attention.

She faced him, and he studied her, seemingly not aware of anyone else there. Although knowing him, he didn’t care about anyone else. He looked rather bored. And she tried not to take that personally.

With the various string instruments striking up their tune, she offered a curtsy, and Lorne bowed. She glided toward him, palms up, and they pressed together. Thank goodness for gloves because even with the thin layer of fabric between them, a spark seemed to ignite where her fingertips touched his. Their eyes met, and she boldly stared into his. She couldn’t run away and hide, so she might as well be herself.

“Why did ye change your mind?” Lorne’s voice was a low caress.

“I wanted to speak with ye about—” but she cut herself off as they exchanged partners for a turn. Back to Lorne, she said, “I needed to speak with ye.”

“I am all ears for the rest of this dance, and then we will no’ be seen again together tonight. That was the whole point of me issuing ye an invitation.”

They parted once more. If he were only going to give her this dance, then she’d best make haste. Returning to him, she said quickly, “’Tis about my sister. I believe she might have run away.”

“Why is that any of my concern?” Though outwardly he feigned indifference, she felt his body tense, and the slight twitch of his fingers on hers.

They drifted to their other partners, but Jaime kept her eyes on him. She found herself distracted by the intensity of his gaze, rather than the muted conversation of her other partner. The way he looked at her as if he could see every secret she tried to keep hidden. Though they danced apart, with their gazes locked, they could have been with each other.

Again, that spark when his hand touched hers.

“I need ye to tell me what happened between the both of ye.” And I need to stop wanting ye to touch my hand.

“Ye already think ye know,” he said.

“I want to hear it from ye. I need to know why ye abandoned Gordie.”

He passed her off to another dancing partner without an answer, and when she came back to him, he was frowning down at her.

“This is no’ an appropriate place for this conversation,” he murmured.

“It was your choice to have our one conversation tonight on the dance floor.”

“I was mistaken.”

The dance ended, and Lorne took her by the arm, leading her away from the dance floor. “I shall return ye to your aunt, but in a quarter-hour, come to my gymnasium. There will be no one there. We’ll be discreet, and I will tell ye what ye want to know.”

“I can no’ risk being found alone with ye. I could lose everything.”

“Ye want answers?”

Of course, she did, more than anything. That was the reason she’d risked coming to the ball in the first place. But one thing she couldn’t risk was falling under his spell as Shanna had. Risking her company and future. Then again, what other choice did she have? If he promised to be discreet, could she trust him?

“Where is your gymnasium, Your Grace? I will be noticed nosing about.”

“I’ll have Mungo bring ye.”

He handed her back to Aunt Beatrice. Jaime considered him while he attempted to melt into the crowd only to be pulled to the dance floor by an imploring mother and daughter. Even from her spot near the wall, punch now in hand, Lorne seemed to find her, watch her.

“How was it?” Aunt Beatrice asked, sipping her punch.

Jaime was grateful for the interruption, as she’d been finding it harder