As the apprenticehelped her into it, her breath caught. The woman reflected in the mirror looked like someone else entirely—not a tavern girl, but a lady worthy of a Highland laird.
“Perfect,”Mistress Ross breathed. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Is all well?”Hector’s voice came from just beyond the curtain, closer than before.
“Aye,”Mistress Ross called back. “Just a few small alterations needed.”
The seamstress worked quickly,but as she kneeled to hem the skirts, she looked up at Gabriella with knowing eyes.
“Ye’re a fortunate lass,”she said quietly. “The Laird has been alone for too long. Ye can see it in his eyes when he looks at ye—like a man who’s found somethin’ he thought was lost forever.”
Gabriella’s throat tightened.If only the woman knew the truth of their arrangement.
“Turn around slowly,”Mistress Ross instructed, stepping back to admire her work. “Let me see how the skirts move.”
As Gabriella turned,the curtain shifted slightly in the breeze drifting through an open window. Through the gap, she caught sight of Hector—and froze.
He was watchingher through that narrow opening, his eyes dark with an intensity that made her breath hitch. The look on his face was raw, unguarded. There was a hunger there, along with something deeper, more complex.
Their eyes metfor one charged moment before he deliberately looked away, his jaw clenched tight.
“We’re finished,”Mistress Ross announced, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “The gown is perfect.”
As Gabriella changed backinto her traveling dress, her hands shook with more than the cool air. The memory of the look in Hector’s eyes burned through her—not the controlled, careful expression he usually wore, but something fierce and possessive that made her pulse race.
When she emergedfrom behind the curtain, he was standing by the window, his back to her, every line of his body taut with restraint.
“Ready?”he asked without turning around.
“Aye,”she managed.
The ride was torture.Every brush of his body against hers, every shift of the horse beneath them, seemed magnified tenfold. She could feel the tension radiating from him, could sense his careful control beginning to fray.
He stopped the stallion,dismounting quickly, and lifted her down. For a moment, they stood there, their bodies almost touching, the space between them charged with unspoken desire.
“Tomorrow,”he said quietly, his eyes searching her face.
“Tomorrow,”she echoed, though the words felt like both a promise and a threat.
“We’ll dineatThe Golden Stagbefore returnin’,” Hector announced as they secured the horses. “Ye’ve had little food today, and the ride back will be long.”
The Golden Stagwas a grand establishment. Crystal glasses caught the light from dozens of candles, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air. Other patrons spoke in hushed, refined tones—merchants and minor nobility rather than common folk.
Hector guidedGabriella to a secluded table near a window, pulling out her chair with courtly grace. The gesture sent warmth through her chest, even as she reminded herself that this was all for appearances.
“Wine,”he told the waitress. “Yer finest.”
As they waitedfor their meal, thunder rumbled in the distance. Gabriella glanced toward the window, noting the darkening sky.
“Tell me about France,”Hector said suddenly. “Did ye really mean to join the convent there?”
The question caughther off guard. “Aye. Or perhaps I… I thought of finding work. I could work as a seamstress or a lady’s maid. Start fresh where nay one kens me past.”
“And now?”
She methis eyes across the flickering candlelight. “Now I suppose I’ll be a Highlander’s wife instead.”
Something dark flashedin his gaze. “Is that so terrible a fate?”
