Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,11

before she could stop herself. “Ye dinnae consider them yers?” She told herself she was shifting on the hard chair because she was uncomfortable, not because she wanted the chance to catch a glimpse of him.

“Och, aye, they’re mine.” She saw a shrug flow down his arm. “I’m just… After so long, ‘tis hard to remember I have a place to belong now. If I want it,” he finished quietly.

Curse her heart! Why did it have to clench like that, hearing the pain in his voice? Despite her vow to remain strong, Davina peeked at him from under her lashes. Had his family ever heard that bitterness? Or did he only show it to her?

“Yer brothers accept ye as one of them.”

‘Twas not a question, but Graham nodded, a small sound which might’ve been a chuckle escaping his lips. “Aye, they do, and I’m blessed to ken them. I’m blessed to—well, I never expected to learn my father’s name, much less meet him.”

She shifted again, even as she promised herself she wouldn’t, so she could see more of him. He was never the most expressive of men, but now she could see the pain in his eyes as he stared down at the wine in his goblet.

“Has he spoken of yer mother?” she asked softly.

Obviously startled, his gaze jerked up to hers. “Aye, often.” When he sighed, some of the tension left his shoulders. “I never kenned her, but he loved her, that I’ve nae doubt.” His gaze traveled over her shoulder to where his father sat, and when he met her eyes once more, one corner of his lips curled into a tiny smile. “I’m lucky he’s been willing to share so much of her with me.”

Aye, he was, and the way he smiled at her…? Well, Graham had learned as a lad not to show too much emotion, and as a man, he rarely allowed others to know his thoughts. But Davina was the exception. She’d been able to read him from the moment they’d met. ‘Twas why she’d always thought they would be good together.

And tonight—sitting beside him like this, hearing his words, but understanding his true feelings—she still felt that way.

Why did ye break yer vow, Graham?

Why had he allowed her to go all winter without word?

And why now did he blink, his gaze softening as those dark blue eyes caressed her face, longing evident within his gaze?

“I’ve missed ye, lass.”

The faintest trace of a wince crossed his face after the words escaped his lips, as if he hadn’t intended to speak them, and he lifted his goblet to sip while she stared.

He missed her? He was the one who’d decided she wasn’t worth the effort of—

Nay, dinnae judge him. Ye dinnae ken his reasons.

So she straightened her spine, turned back to her food, and cleared her throat. She’d tell him not to speak to her again. She’d explain she was no longer interested in his sweet words or the hidden emotions in those blue depths.

She’d tell him to save his pretty wishes for—

“I’ve missed ye too.”

Shite.

Shite, shite!

She hadn’t planned on saying those words, and from the small hum he made, he hadn’t expected her to say them either.

Well, she damn well wasn’t going to look at him to see how surprised he was!

“I’m glad to see yer feelings for the lad have no’ waned, lassie.”

The comment, from Davina’s other side, startled her into facing the laird. The older man was beaming, and although his expression was as far from Graham’s as possible, they shared the same expressive eyes.

“I’m sorry, milord,” she said stiffly, “but ye’ve been misinformed. Graham and I…? Apparently, our feelings for one another were brief.”

“Apparently?” the laird repeated with a snort, as his new wife leaned around him.

“Davina,” she said in a low voice, smiling softly, “he’s no’ been home much in the last months, but when he has been, he’s spoken of little else besides ye.”

“Aye, Davina MacKinnon this, Davina MacKinnon that,” her husband chuckled. “When he’s no’ being pestered by some medical ailment or another.”

As if on cue, Alistair leaned across the table. “Graham! I still want ye to look at that spot on my stomach! Lara says ‘tis a mole.”

“I didnae!” his wife called cheerfully. “I said ‘tis no’ a mole! But ‘tis strange looking!”

Davina—and most of the others at the table—glanced at Graham to see him set down his goblet and drawl, “Strange-looking how? Moles dinnae change colors.”

“I ken!” Alistair agreed, “But if invisible demon seeds can cause