Page 140 of The Highlander Is All That

“Because. I couldna bear watching her dance with other men.”

“Did you tell her that?”

Tell her that? “How mortifying would that be?”

Ranald grinned. “That, my friend, is the point. If you want that woman, go after her. Sweep her off her feet. Tell her she is everything to you. That you can’t live without her. That you don’t give a good goddamn what the duke—or anyone—thinks. I guarantee, she will fall into your arms.”

Och, aye! That was what she wanted. What she needed. The passion of a romantic proposal. A man who would do anything for her love!

He bounded from the seat and ran from the room without even professing his thanks. But that was all right. He knew Ranald would understand.

* * *

Ranald watched Hamish disappear and he bit back a grin before he went back to his letters. There had been a thick pile waiting for him when he’d returned from Scotland.

And among them, one from the Duke of Caithness.

Lachlan had been more than clear. He didn’t give a damn who his cousins married, as long as they were happy.

Maybe he’d show the letter to Hamish tomorrow.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

The Darlington soiree was lovely. But how could it not be, having been planned by Helena and Kaitlin? The two had an innate sense of style that could not be duplicated. Elizabeth had a wonderful time, despite her doldrums. She danced with more than one handsome man, but sadly, kept wishing they were someone else. Someone tall and muscular with red hair and laughing green eyes.

Perhaps she was being foolish, expecting Hamish to meet her more than halfway in this. Perhaps she should not be angry about his widow, if he promised it was over. She certainly should not expect him to defy a duke to claim her.

And to be truthful, she did not want any other man.

It was important that she bury her wounded ego—which was surely what this was—and let all these issues go. She should just love him and accept him, no matter what kind of future they had.

She didn’t know why that seemed so hard, except for the fact that she was afraid.

She was afraid he didn’t really love her, or at least not as much as she loved him.

She was worried that if she married him, she would, one day, be in for a heartbreak that would destroy her.

But she was also aware that without him, her life would be empty and arid.

There was only one thing for it. She had to speak with him. Tell him she loved him no matter what. That nothing else mattered.

As soon as she made that decision, she wanted to run from the room, return home, and find him . . . but she was in the middle of a dance.

Lord Granger was certainly one of the more handsome men in the room. He was attentive, funny, and kind. It would be rude to break away and—

A commotion at the door caught her attention, along with that of everyone in the ballroom. The music came to a screeching halt and everyone stared, including Elizabeth.

To her surprise, he was there, standing on the stairs, looking savage and rumpled and utterly out of place in this den of gentility. Tall and broad, hair askew, his eyes were wild as he searched the crowd.

When he saw her, his features tightened and her heart jerked.

Then he started toward her with a determined stride. Straight toward her, cutting a swath through the crowd without a care.

He stopped right before her and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. “Elizabeth.”

“Hamish.” A whisper.