"I thank you, Laird Rebbinglen," Elena said in a flirtatious tone, smiling up at him.
"Please, I'd be honored if you'd call meRebbie. Both of you," he said, turning toCallanearby. He reached up to lift her down from the saddle. He relished her narrow waist and light weight within his hands. And, he'd been right, her curves were more pronounced than the last time he'd touched her. Arousal and excitement shot through him.
She kept her eyes downcast. "I thank you." Her voice was clear but subdued.
Damnation, how he wished to speak to her alone, to reassure her not to worry, but Elena stood only feet away. "Allow me to escort you ladies to the feast." He offered an elbow to each.
Elena gripped his arm tightly with both hands and teetered upon her feet as they walked across the soft, pine-needle-covered ground. On his other side, Calla rested her unsteady fingers so lightly upon his arm, he barely felt them.
From the corner of his eye, he observed her, but she kept her gaze on the ground, appearing to wish she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
How could he get a moment alone with her?'Twasimpossible now with two dozen people about.
"'Tisa lovely view, don't you think?" Elena beamed up at him.
"Indeed." He wanted to roll his eyes. After the tantrum she'd thrown at their first meeting, he couldn't believe the switch in her demeanor simply because he'd changed out of the belted plaid and into more conventional Lowland clothing. It appeared she was no longer against marrying him… unfortunately. He was going to have to wear the plaid again.
"Here we are, ladies." He helped them kneel upon the blankets with Angelique and some of the others.
The two maids who'd accompanied them served the meal.
Rebbie retreated to stand beside Lachlan, who sent him a curious and amused look.
"What?" Rebbie asked, hoping his tone didn't come out resembling a growl.
Lachlan grinned. "You seemed happy with a lovely lady upon each arm."
Rebbie snorted. "Hardly," he muttered low, hoping no one else heard him.
Lachlan snickered. "Well, at least you find one of them attractive, aye?"
Rebbie wanted to tell him where to go, but his father approached.
"I'm proud of you, Robert," he said in a low tone. "You are actually capable of being a gentleman."
"What the devil is that supposed to mean?" Rebbie demanded. Damned if his father didn't irritate him with every word he uttered.
His father laughed. "Merely that you may prefer being a rebel Highlander, but you know how to be civilized when it suits you."
Rebbie ground his teeth, tempted to tell his father where to shove the betrothal contract, but he didn't want to cause a scene with everyone looking on and ruin Angelique's outing. Besides, if he left now, he wouldn't get to talk to Calla.
After the meal, Elena cornered Rebbie and droned on about her travels in England, shopping in London, and various other dry bits. He glanced aside, finding Calla a short distance away examining a woodland wildflower. Although she looked much the same as she did a few years ago, a couple of minor things about her had changed. Though he knew it made him no better than a goat, he couldn't stop thinking about how lush her breasts had become. He wanted to strip those clothes from her and—
"Do you agree, my laird?" Elena asked.
"Hmm? Pray pardon. What did you say?"
"That London is the most exciting place in the world."
"In many ways." But he much preferred Scotland.
"Do you think we might live there one day, after we're married?"
Rebbie felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. He cleared his throat and gave her a tight smile. "Nay, 'tis doubtful." Both the marriage and living in London.
She stuck out her bottom lip in what was supposed to be a pretty pout, but it made him want to leap on his horse and ride north as if the hounds of hell were upon his heels.
Something moved in his peripheral vision. He shifted his gaze and discovered a tree slowly tipping toward the left, directly over Calla.
