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Sophia collected Lorena’s goblet and downed whatever was inside. It burned “Afraid of what?”
“That the Laird may or may not choose ye.”
“Is it quite so obvious?”
“Obvious?” Lorena simpered. “For me, aye—but I believe that anyone can tell that ye love him. Have ye seen yer face?”
“What is wrong with my face?” Sophia threw her hands to her cheeks. They were hot with the flush of that burning drunk. Of something else, too.
Lorena shook her head and looked away, before suddenly blurting, “The Laird! He is coming this way.”
“Nae games, Lorena. I dinnae wish to see him.” Sophia admonished. “Nae lying.”
“I swear it to God Himself, I am not!”
Sophia looked at his perch but he was gone. She pinched Lorena. “Ye are a liar!”
Lorena giggled, and then whispered low, “Am I? Funny that he should be standing right behind ye.”
Gasping, she got to her feet. His back connected with someone’s chest—hard and warm. She spun around, and there he was. Kendrick. His piercing blue eyes bored into her. Suddenly, every bit of anger in her doubled, and she prickled all over.
“Milaird!” she yelped.
She swayed just a little, but he was quick enough to catch her.
“Sophia.”
My name. He actually said my name!
“May I speak with ye?”
CHAPTERSIX
Sophia.
There she was. Right in front of him.
He had not noticed it before, but her eyes were not onyx black as he always saw them to be. They were a dark, golden shade of brown. He swallowed hard trying to calm himself. It should not have been so hard to stand before her, but it was. She wasthere, and beautiful, and only a few inches away from his face. Her plump, cherry lips were moist and tempting.
“Aye, milaird.” Sophia scrambled away from him. “I must apologize. I did nae see ye approach.”
Her voice grounded him. It was not a fantasy, nor a dream.
“My lady, it delights me to see ye once again.” He fought back the dark excitement that lurked beneath the surface. “I am sorry for how I left earlier.”
She blinked and flashed red. “How have ye been, milaird? I imagine a laird keeps well,” she said, her gaze low.
He had not been well. He had missed her.
“Aye, my lady, I have been well,” he managed to mutter. “I trust ye have been fair as well.”
Sophia nodded and returned her gaze to him, with a forced, angry smile. It was new, formed in the years he had not known her. “Oh, I have, milaird.”
“Have ye had something to eat?”
“I shall help myself to something.” Her coolness instilled something in him that he had never felt before. She must have despised him. The concept itself was eating him alive. He understood she had every right to loathe him for what he had done. He hated himself as well.
“Tonight, milaird…” She trailed off, tilting her head to the small crowd. “Forgive me. I must have been out of my mind to speak of such things. It does nae concern me.” She turned away from him, heading for a tippling table.
