Page 25 of The Highlander Is All That

“I say, Lady Elizabeth. Shall we dance again?” Twiggenberry, put out that Tiverton had stolen her attention, tugged on her sleeve.

“We really shouldn’t.” The last thing she wanted was to give the signal she’d selected her suitor. More than one dance would do exactly that. Besides, her feet already hurt.

Twiggenberry’s hopeful expression fell. “May I call on you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Of course.” Drat. That was the polite thing to say, so she had to say it.

“Would you do me the honor?” Tiverton said with a bow. The glimmer in his eyes was concerning. Hopefully he wasn’t transferring his attention from Catherine to her.

“I would love to, my lord, but . . .” She set a hand to her forehead. “I think I feel a megrim coming on as well.” With a regretful smile, she slipped away to the ladies’ retiring room, where she remained for the remainder of the evening.

Cowardly?

Perhaps.

But at the moment, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to escape from this torture, and any excuse would do.

* * *

Where had she gone?

Hamish stared into the murk of the ballroom until his eyes watered. Damn those guttering candles. The haze of smoke made it difficult to see. The room was also far too warm for his liking. It made the skin at his nape prickle.

Or maybe that was his concern.

Where had she gone?

He could spot the others, dancing and chatting, but of Elizabeth there was no sign.

He intensified his search. When his gaze landed on that flouncing popinjay she’d been dancing with, he felt a modicum of relief, but only that. It had been sincerely aggravating watching her whirl around the room in that bastard’s arms. It had not been lost on Hamish that she seemed to be having a wonderful time.

Laughing, smiling, fluttering her lashes.

He had no call to be furious about that—he had no call to have any emotions about Lady Elizabeth St. Claire or with whom danced—but try as he might, he could not mute the feeling.

He did not want her in any man’s arms . . . but his own.

And what a thought that was. It made his blood go cold, because he understood the world she lived in and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had no real place in it.

The kiss they’d shared had been ill-advised at best, and Hamish was not a fool. He knew Elizabeth was a young girl, playing at being a woman. That kiss had been nothing but an experiment for her.

What a pity it had been so much more for him.

“Well, you do look fierce,” an amused voice said at his side.

He turned and frowned at Lady Jersey before he could stay the expression. He forced something of a smile, though he doubted, in this mood, he was successful. “My lady?”

“I say, you do look fierce. Esmeralda had the right of it, bringing you along.”

“Did she?”

“Oh, yes. You will be the talk of the town. Two enormous bodyguards for her girls. Behemoths, even.”

He nodded, though he was hardly a behemoth. Although compared to the slender, pasty lads in this ballroom, he could probably be considered as such. “However, standing at the door does make us somewhat less than effective,” he felt obliged to point out.

“Nonsense. You are perfectly effective.” He did not care for the way in which she eyed him up and down. The way her hand settled on his arm, tested his muscles. Had he been another man, had it been a different time, had he not been on a mission for the duke, he might have taken her up on the unspoken offer. At the moment, it was unthinkable.

“I doona see Lady Elizabeth.”