Eloise nodded. “Aye,” she said.
There was a pause, brief but charged.
“Thank ye… for the day,” she added.
He inclined his head. “Aye,” he said.
Before anything more could be said, he stepped back and turned away.
“I’ve matters to attend,” he said. Without waiting for her reply, he mounted his horse again.
“James,” she called after him softly, but he did not turn.
With a sharp command, he urged the horse forward, riding out once more toward the hills.
I need distance. I need cool air to rid me of this heat… of her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What is wrong with me,” Eloise murmured under her breath.
She stood quietly in the great hall, as the bustling clan had already finished the evening meal, and people spoke and danced.
Her hands folded in her lap though her thoughts were anything but still. The memory of the stream clung to her, vivid and inescapable, the way James had hovered over her, the weight of him, the heat that had rushed through her when his gaze had dropped to her lips. She pressed her fingers together, trying to steady herself. She could still feel him, as though the imprint of that moment had settled beneath her skin. And worse still, she had no one to speak of it to.
She wanted to tell Beatrice. The urge pressed at her, sharp and insistent, but she bit it back. The truth of the false engagementsat between them like an invisible wall, one she could not break without risking everything.
“Ye’ve gone quiet,” Beatrice said beside her, nudging her gently.
Eloise blinked, forcing a smile. “I was only thinkin’,” she said.
Beatrice studied her for a moment, then looped her arm through Eloise’s.
“Come,” she said. “Let us walk among the people.”
The great hall buzzed with life after supper, voices rising in laughter and conversation, the firelight casting a warm glow over the stone walls. As they moved through the crowd, Eloise felt it before she saw it, his presence. Her gaze lifted, and there he was across the hall. Their eyes met, and for a brief, suspended moment, everything else faded. Then, just as quickly, James looked away.
Eloise felt warmth run through her.
“Did ye see that?” Beatrice whispered.
“See what?” Eloise asked, though she knew full well.
“The way he looked at ye,” Beatrice said, grinning faintly.
Eloise shook her head, though her cheeks warmed. “Ye imagine things,” she said.
“Do I? He looks at ye as if nae one else is in the room,” Beatrice teased.
Before Eloise could answer, a smooth voice cut in. “Miss Eloise.” She turned to find Mairead approaching, her expression composed, her smile perfectly measured.
“Mairead,” Eloise said politely.
Beatrice dipped into a small curtsy. “Good evening,” she said.
Mairead inclined her head slightly. “Aye, so it is.”
“I hear ye’ve been to the seamstress,” Mairead said, her tone light, though her eyes flicked briefly toward Eloise’s gown.
