Page 4 of The Highlander's Dare
Graham did not give a damn about one word the man had to say. So, as he made no attempt to listen, he backed toward Lady Clara’s table, wondering if when he got close enough, Baston would try to shove him off. Only the baron’s speech seemed to have silenced Baston’s booming, irritating voice.
At last, Graham was standing just behind her. He reached over her shoulder to grasp a jug of wine and then poured it gently into the half-empty pewter goblet she twisted in a circle, surprising her.
Lady Clara looked over her shoulder, her green eyes wide.
He winked at her. “Ye looked as though ye needed a refill.”
“And you thought to do so yourself rather than allow one of the servants to help me?” One eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch as she managed to look down her nose at him.
He bowed slightly at the waist, feeling a tingle of excitement at how she obviously thought him inferior. Bloody hell, this was going to be fun. “I am always willing to help a beautiful lady in need.”
She rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head that the meaning could not have been clearer if she hadn’t just come out and told him to go to hell. Graham kept his smile at bay when he wanted to grin like a fool. This was almost as if he’d met his equal, but she had breasts. Mighty fine breasts too, that pushed plushily against the green gown.
“I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree,” she said with a sniff.
He grinned then. “Are ye calling me a hound, my lady?”
“Better than a hog.” Her eyes twinkled and flicked toward Baston, and it was all Graham could do not to burst out into a booming laugh.
“And so, I shall take it as a compliment then.” He bowed once more, though this time it was much more mocking.
“I would not if I were you.” She took a sip of wine, staring at him over the brim of her cup.
“May I sit?” Graham pointed to the small amount of space beside her that was plainly not a seat, but he didn’t care—he only wanted to make it evident he was interested despite her saucy insults.
Lady Clara looked down at the spot, and her eyes slowly rose to meet his, a sardonic brow raised and a pert smile on her very kissable pink lips. “Are you daft, by chance? In case you did not notice, there’s barely enough space for a babe to sit, let alone a man as large as yourself.”
Graham grinned. “I’m flattered ye noticed, my lady.”
She gave a long blink and a sigh that sounded pained. The more irritated she was, the more he was starting to like her. At least she wasn’t a high and mighty thing, or a simpering fool. What would she do if he leaned in right now and said she was going to be his wife by the end of the week?
“Trust me, I am not noticing anything other than that I have no idea who you are.”
Graham bowed slightly. “Allow me to introduce myself then. I’m Sir Graham—”
“Sutherland, what the bloody hell are ye doing here?” Baston Ross’s voice rose above the din of music and chatter that had picked up right after Lord Yves’s speech ended. The obnoxiousness of his tone had more than a few eyes turning their way.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Graham said with a straight face. “Thought I’d stop in and say hello to a few friends.”
Baston put his meaty paw on Lady Clara’s shoulder. “She’s no’ your friend. And ye’d best no’ talk to her at all, else ye’ll find yourself in an early grave. No’ that ye willna already, given your idiot brother is starving his clan to death.”
Fire erupted in Graham’s belly, and he saw a murderous red before his eyes. It was one thing to insult him. But to offend Cormac, when all he’d tried to do since gaining leadership of their clan was keep as many alive as he could through droughts and bad crops, was quite another, especially when they’d come to the Rosses for aid and been denied. It only made Graham want to take Lady Clara away from him all the more.
He couldn’t even look at her, for fear of the pity he’d see in her eyes. Ballocks, but what had been getting off to a great start had quickly turned sour, and it was all this rotten bastard’s fault. What Graham wouldn’t give to pull his always-present dagger from his boot and shove it into Baston’s gut. It took every effort to restrain himself from doing just that.
CLARA COULD NOT BELIEVEwhat she was hearing. She’d been a bit stunned from the moment the handsome Scotsman had leaned over her—with a devilish smile on his face, a dimple in his cheek that was making her melt, and a voice that had her sighing—and poured her wine, Of course, she couldn’t show him how much she was enjoying their conversation. Quite the opposite, in fact. She had to act tart and put out, if not just a tiny bit sarcastic, but underlying it all was a hearty curiosity and a bit of a mischief.
Lord, he was handsome.
For a moment, she’d pretended not to be next to Baston Ross, her dreaded betrothed, with his foot hiked up on the bench, so his nether region was inches from her face.Disgusting. She was fairly certain that had been a pre-planned move on his part, and one that made her want to punch his unmentionables repeatedly.
Now his thick and heavy-handed talons were possessively hooked on her shoulder, digging into the sensitive skin there, and she’d curled her fists into the skirt of her kirtle to keep from dealing him a blow he wouldn’t soon forget.
Sir Graham Sutherland was glaring daggers, his lips thinned, and he had a murderous look in his eyes. Baston deserved every bit of whatever retaliation this new stranger was planning. Still, if he were to go through with his dangerous plot, she would likely not see him again, and then the next week would continue to drag on interminably when she might have been able to sneak in a few fun conversations at the very least.
Should she intervene?
Nay, as much as she wanted to, that would be a terrible idea. For one thing, she didn’t really know Sir Graham Sutherland. He was just another warrior in a sea of warrior faces, though he had a nice smile, and she liked the way he teased. If she was to offer her support, Baston would believe her to know him more than she truly did and perhaps accuse her of something. That could be treacherous for them both, but what did she care about being accused if it got her away from Bastard Hog? Hmm…
