“I wouldnae dare,” he replied, though amusement lingered in his eyes.
The seamstress moved quickly, calling out measurements, muttering to herself as she assessed fabric. “Green would suit ye,” she said. “Bring out those eyes.”
James’s gaze sharpened slightly at that, already knowing she was right. As the seamstress adjusted Eloise’s posture, James stepped closer without thinking.
“Hold still,” he said quietly, his hand settling briefly at her waist to steady her.
Eloise froze for a moment, acutely aware of the warmth of his touch. “I am still,” she said, though her voice had softened.
His hand lingered a heartbeat longer before he stepped back.
“Turn,” the seamstress said, guiding Eloise gently.
A strand of her hair slipped loose again, falling across her face. James reached out once more, slower this time, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers brushed the curve of her neck, and both of them stilled.
“Ye’re distractin’,” Eloise murmured under her breath.
“Am I?” he replied, his voice low.
“Aye,” she said, though she did not move away.
The seamstress cleared her throat pointedly. “If ye two are quite finished,” she said dryly, “I’ve a gown to make.”
James watched Eloise flush, stepping back slightly. James straightened, his expression returning to something more composed.
When it was finished they stepped back outside, the air felt cooler, sharper.
Eloise exhaled slowly. “That was… somethin’,” she said.
James glanced at her. “Aye,” he said. She looked at him then, her gaze searching.
“This is still pretend,” she said quietly.
“Aye,” he said again.
But as they walked back toward their horses, James didn't seem entirely convinced.
They mounted their steeds and continued on the journey back to castle Calibroch. After an hour of riding, James slowed.
“Let's water the horses at the brook,” he said.
They paused by the quiet stream where the water ran clear over smooth stones, the sound soft against the stillness of the hills.
James dismounted first, tying his horse loosely before turning to her.
“Careful now,” he said, stepping closer. He placed his hands at her hips to help her down, his grip firm and steady as he lifted her from the saddle.
He heard Eloise’s breath catching slightly at the contact, though she said nothing. His hands lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before he released her. Heat coiled low in his chest, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
“Ye’re starin’, me Laird,” she said lightly, brushing down her skirts.
James huffed softly, though his gaze had indeed traced the curve of her waist, the rise of her bodice, the pale line of her throat where the sun touched her skin.
“I was makin’ certain ye wouldnae fall,” he replied.
Eloise arched a brow. “I am quite capable of standin’ on me own,” she said.
“I’ve nay doubt,” he murmured. “Yet ye still manage to surprise me.”
