Page 31 of The Highlander Is All That

“No worries,” Ranald said with a smile. “I plan to stay up a bit more, and I am famished.”

Esmeralda grinned. “No cakes for you at Almack’s.”

“How lucky,” Anne murmured. But when her aunt quit the room, she remained. A comfortable hush fell as he helped himself to a sandwich. She did as well and they chewed in a companionable silence. “These are much better,” she said after a moment.

“Why do you suppose they serve terrible food at Almack’s?”

She shrugged. “I have no clue. The lemonade was watered down as well.”

“I would have killed for one. It was quite warm.”

She surprised him with a smile. It was warm and sincere. “Next time ask me for one.”

“Och. That would go over well. A debutante serving a savage?”

“Nonsense. I’m hardly a debutante.”

He blinked at the sharpness of her tone. “Of course you are.”

Her expression was wry. “I am nearly five and twenty.”

“The perfect age for marriage.”

“Not in this world. In this world I am old.”

“You are no’ old in the least,” he said, leaning forward. “Any man would be lucky to have you.” Perhaps there was a hint too much warmth in his tone, because her eyes widened and she stared at him.

After a moment, she huffed a laugh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I do. You’re lovely. Elegant. Intelligent. Funny—”

“I’m not funny.”

“You are when you want to be.” He winked. “You had me holding my sides earlier.”

“It was hardly my intention.”

“I suspect you are, Lady Anne, a wicked woman.”

She stilled and stared into her teacup, and then she lifted her chin and met his gaze. Her grin was wicked indeed. “Perhaps,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, good sir.”

He lifted his teacup in her honor. “What are friends for?” he asked.

“Indeed,” she said with a smile that warmed his heart. “Indeed.”

* * *

Hamish couldn’t sleep. And it wasn’t his swirling trepidation about the leading lady of the ton hunting him down, or the effect of inferior whisky. It was thoughts of Elizabeth that kept him awake.

No matter how much he reminded himself it was foolish to do so, he kept remembering that kiss and imagining more. And when he recalled the sight of her dancing in another man’s arms, his stomach lurched.

Then again, that could have been the whisky.

It was a damned shame that in a Scotsman’s home there was not a better vintage.