Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(17)
Men wore white dress shirts with the clan plaid draped across their chests and fastened securely around their hips. Their functional, muted attire, however, was completely outshone. Vibrant-hued gowns sparkled like emeralds, rubies, and sapphires as the women moved through the room, bringing a lazy kaleidoscope to brilliant life.
Additional seating had been brought in to accommodate the guests in attendance. Tables were laden with sumptuous delicacies as if Iain was entertaining for royalty. Stuffed swans, surrounded by apples, pears, and onions sat on silver platters at the head of each table. Fully dressed peacocks and pheasants were arranged farther down in line. Fragrant rounds of herbed rosemary and garlic breads were piled high between the beautifully arranged fowl dishes. I even glimpsed an artfully prepared salmon on a board.
Brigid looped her arm in mine, pulling me out of my awestruck fascination and leading me down the stairs. She elbowed me in the ribs.
“Owww . . .” I glared at her, catching her wide grin before she yanked me to a stop. We’d only gone midway down the wide stone staircase. Her attention shifted beyond me, and I turned. Every gaze in the room fixed squarely on us as a hush spread like God had extinguished a raging wildfire with a single breath.
Heat flushed under my skin so quickly, from my breasts into my cheeks, I must have beamed crimson like a neon light. I took a steadying breath, examining their faces, wondering what they thought of me, a stranger who’d been welcomed within their protective enclave by their laird.
Turnabout in uncomfortable situations always settled my nerves, so I scrutinized them in return. Of those considered Iain’s closest companions, who would I deem friend, or adversary? Had any been privy to the same secrets I’d discovered?
More importantly, were the oddities within Iain’s castle even secrets at all? With his map room trustingly unlocked, he showed a clear lack of concern for protecting the unique, responsive wall. Maybe artifacts like the box, with its ritual purpose passed down through their generations, were a part of their lore and, therefore, common knowledge.
On my mental treasure hunt, each question became a clue leading to the next question. Had Iain shared with anyone that I’d been plucked out of another time and deposited here? I frowned, searching for Iain in the crowd. Regardless of my plan for independence, I needed reassurance that he still had my protection as a priority.
The last question shimmered to the surface as if summoned through a reverse Magic 8 Ball. Had other women been stolen out of their time? The thought faded as quickly as it had formed. Iain had said women came when their laird took a mate, but the last would’ve been his mother. Unless she still lived, and he’d made no mention of her, no other time-displaced women existed.
Where is Iain?
Done standing under the scrutiny of the party’s microscope, I squeezed Brigid’s hand, tugging her arm, but she held her ground. Patience had never been a strong point for me. I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting. Since my only experience in gaining a man’s interest by disinterest might’ve been a fluke with modern-day Iain at the games, I trusted our rough plan—and Brigid’s intuition—to guide our way.
Distracted by my chattering mind and the crowd’s intimidation, I didn’t notice the disturbance in the air behind me until the weight of pure power pressed into me without contact. A chill raced up my spine. The heat of his breath flowed up my neck to the shell of my ear, scattering every thought I’d had like a dandelion bloom bursting apart on a gust of wind.
The thunder of my heart muffled my loud gasp. I tried to turn—uncomfortable being sandwiched between eager voyeurs and their laird—but Iain gripped my hips, immobilizing me.
He inhaled, drawing my upper body back until he’d become the only thing holding me upright. I swallowed hard. A novice to any kind of intimate handling, I felt vulnerable under his command, and I forgot all about my plan and the audience below.
A low growl rumbled at my ear. “Isa, you devastate me.”
I sighed out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d held. Well, damn. At least I wasn’t the only one incapacitated. Angling my head against his chest, I looked up into dark, lustful eyes. That amazing mountain scent of Iain’s enveloped me. His long hair curtained down, shielding our faces from view. I reached a hand up, caressing his bearded chin. He smirked. I smiled.
Okay. Fine. I conceded the match to him. Five minutes into an evening together, and I’d literally fallen into his hands.
“Well, what now, big guy? Are you going to kiss me, or stand here holding me all night?”
He chuckled and forced me upright, smacking my ass. “I’ll do neither, lass. I’ll be escortin’ you to a seat beside me at my table.”
I straightened my dress as an odd disappointment replaced the arousal thrumming through me.
He took my arm, and I looked around, not seeing Brigid anywhere. He leaned down, whispering in a thicker-than-usual brogue, “That was me claimin’ you before them. I’ll not give another man the chance to sneak up to your enticin’ backside . . . or any other side, for that matter.”
Had the man read my mind? Maybe my schemes were that transparent. For the first time, I entertained the notion that I might be trying to outfox a master strategist.
The crowd slowly animated again, rotating. Glances darted toward us often, whispers and hushed conversations igniting. Iain led me into the room with a firm hand at the small of my back. We wound our way through the crowd, stopping briefly when someone waylaid Iain.