The Highlander (20 page)

"Why? You could not possibly look any better than you do. Can you not see that everyone in the room is looking at you?"

"That was not my intention."

Arabella smiled. "I know, and that is part of your allure. Come, let us find Jamie. I want to watch his face when he sees you."

They strolled past the fireplace where the piled logs burned brightly, making the room pleasantly warm. Candlelight was everywhere: on the tables, on the candelabras high overhead and in the torches burning from their brackets on the gray stone walls.

"Here comes Jamie now," Arabella said. "I knew he would find you the minute you entered the hall." She let her gaze continue around the room. "I wonder where... Oh, my, there she is, on the other side of the room."

"Who?" Sophie asked.

"Gillian. She has already noticed Jamie is coming this way, and she is looking none too happy for it. If you don't mind, I think I will retreat before the fighting breaks out."

Before Sophie could respond, Arabella bolted.

A moment later, Jamie joined Sophie.

He kissed her hand, and Sophie noticed he held it as long as he could and still be considered polite.

"Och, lass," he purred. "I have missed seeing you."

She blanched, for her first thought was that he was making reference to the fact that he missed seeing her sans clothing, and she wondered if there was anything private or sacred with him. The thought left as quickly as it came, for she , knew Jamie would never stoop so low. She almost felt guilty for even considering it.

"I trust Arabella has been treating you well," he said.

"Very well, milord. Arabella is the perfect hostess. Obviously that is something she did not learn from you."

"Things are not always as they seem. I thought it would be best for you if I kept my distance."

Sophie did not have the opportunity to reply, for out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a flame-haired woman coming toward them with a look of determination on her face and fire in her eyes. Sophie also noticed she was wearing an exquisite green gown that she recognized as the latest design from Paris. The emeralds and diamonds at her throat were almost blinding as they reflected the light of so many candles.

In spite of her finery, there was something about the way she sailed toward them that reminded Sophie of a French brigantine, with her sails full of wind.

Jamie noticed her, too, but said nothing, and Sophie was tempted to shove him into the path of the stalking woman, for there was little doubt that this was the infamous Gillian, to whom Jamie had betrothed himself. Sophie had to fight the impulse to turn to him and ask "Why?" for she could tell this was not the woman for him. This woman would not love a man. She would devour him.

One glance at Gillian and Sophie found it easy to harden her heart toward Jamie. She was a fool to let him talk her into coming here. At least he had been right to keep away from her. She would make it easier for him in the future.

She would have turned away at that very moment, but she was curious to see how he would handle this. The scoundrel deserved nothing more than her complete indifference, which he would soon receive.

Gillian smiled at Jamie and slipped her arm possessively through his. "Oh, here you are," she said, as if she had accidentally stumbled upon him.

Jamie did not give her an opportunity to say anything, for he immediately introduced them in a manner that one would only expect to witness at court: formal and impersonal.

"Sophie? Just Sophie?" Gillian turned to Jamie. "She has no last name?"

"She cannot recall her past," he said.

Gillian's brows rose. Her gaze swept over Sophie. "How convenient."

Sophie smiled with practiced ease beneath the woman's scrutiny. She thought it a shame that a woman with such fine features and such a pretty face found it necessary to be so waspish. Sophie saw immediately that her first impression had been right. This woman would never be Jamie's equal, no matter how many Paris gowns and fine jewels she wore.

Sophie always thought it something to be pitied whenever she happened upon a woman who thought the only way she could hold on to a man was by playing the watchdog.

However, Sophie also saw Gillian as a formidable foe, and one to be dealt with carefully. She must never let her guard down around her. Gillian's talons were firmly implanted in James Graham's flesh, and she would not let go of the Earl of Monleigh without a fight.

Pity she did not know Sophie had no interest or intentions in that regard.

"A pleasure to meet you," Gillian said. "Do you speak English?"

"I can converse in English, French, Spanish, Italian and Latin. Which one would you prefer?"

"I will give it some thought," Gillian said, making it a point to look over Sophie's dress. "You were fortunate to find such a lovely dress to borrow. I don't remember seeing Arabella in it."

Of course, Sophie could not tell her the dress was her own. Instead, she adjusted the lace at her sleeve to hide a smile of amusement.

It was apparent that Gillian had already decided that Sophie was not a threat as far as Jamie's affections were concerned, and that made her think this French girl could easily be swept aside. Little did she know that Sophie was not the kind of woman to flee the field in the face of battle. Nor was she the kind of woman who would back down—borrowed dress or not.

Curtly dismissing Sophie, Gillian turned to Jamie. "Come, dance with me."

Vilain Rogeaux joined the group at that moment. "I could not wait a moment longer to meet your beautiful guest," he said as he turned to Sophie. "I knew you were French,
mademoiselle,
the moment you entered the room."

Sophie thanked him for the compliment.

Vilain kissed Sophie's hand. "I am Vilain Ro-geaux, and I am completely at your disposal."

Jamie stepped between Sophie and Vilain before formally introducing him to Sophie.

"It is a pleasure to discover a fellow countryman in our midst," Vilain said. "There are times when I do sorely miss having the opportunity to converse in French. Would you care to dance,
mademoiselle?'"

"Merci, monsieur,
but it would be terribly rude of me, since Mistress Gillian has already expressed a desire to dance. Pray, do ask her for no one else has."

Vilain seemed at a loss for words, but only for a moment, and then he recovered. "Of course. How remiss of me," he said, with a knowing gleam in his eyes and a smile that stretched over his shapely lips.

"You are very kind," Sophie said, "for truly, I could not enjoy myself knowing the gentlemen in the room were being so neglectful in asking someone as lovely as Gillian to dance at least once."

Sophie smiled at Gillian and saw the hatred in her narrowed yellow eyes, before she accepted Vilain's proffered arm and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Jamie was amused; Sophie could see it in his slow grin and in the way his eyes seemed to laugh at her.

She smiled sweetly and gave one of the buttons on his doublet a thump. "I do hope I haven't ruined your evening, milord."

Arabella found Sophie standing with her back to the fire, talking to Arabella's brother Bran, who was telling Sophie about his solo appearance at the French court two years ago.

"Goodness," Arabella said to Sophie, "what did you do to Gillian? She is positively fuming. When Vilain asked her'-if she would like to dance again, she told him to 'Go begging.'"

Sophie smiled and wished she had witnessed that send-off. "She came at me, daggers drawn, so I parried."

Arabella laughed. "I have never seen anyone get the best of Gillian. I am so glad you are here. I hope you never leave." She took Sophie's arm. "Come, Bran. Let us find a seat at the table before all the good places near the fire are taken."

As it turned out Bran, Niall and Fraser sat with them and the five of them talked and laughed, not caring that almost everyone in the room watched them with interest and discussed them with fascination.

Sophie took an instant liking to Jamie's brothers, at least the three who had joined them. She had already sensed that his other brother, Calum, did not approve of her and had chosen to keep his distance.

Arabella had confessed it was because he was close to Gillian and feared Sophie would come between them.

As Sophie watched Jamie seat Gillian, she saw a look of relief pass over Calum's worried face, for it was Gillian and not her who was seated between Calum and Jamie.

After that, Sophie made it a point not to observe them overmuch, but she did take note of the fact that there was not nearly as much laughter coming from their quarter. It wasn't long until she dismissed them completely, for it looked to her as if they were all three bored, and Jamie looked fed up to the back teeth.

She had always heard the Scots were a dour lot, solemn, slow to smile and even slower to laugh, but Sophie found it quite easy to fall into conversation with the clansmen around her, and just as easy to join in their gay laughter.

Unlike those at court, there was a true sense of kinship among the Graham clan, and everyone was accepted as an equal, regardless of their position. She made note of the fact that no one used Jamie's title when addressing him but, instead, called him by his given name. It was a surprising discovery to learn that social correctness was seldom exhibited by these clannish Grahams.

She had to accustom herself to these laconic Scots.

When Niall asked her to dance, Arabella leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Have a care," she said, "for he has requested a wild and indiscreet country frolic, much like 'Gag-liarda,' a wanton galliard played in triple time. I ken he means to provoke Jamie by the doing of it."

"The galliard is also popular in France, but I have never seen it danced," Sophie replied.

Bran gave Arabella a nudge. "Let her be. It would take more than a lass dancing to get the best of Jamie."

Sophie smiled at Niall and gave him her hand as the music began. From the table she could hear Bran singing:

Four and twenty Lasses went over Trench-more Lee,

And all of them were Mow'd, unless it were two or three

Then up with Aley, Aley, up with jumping Joan,

In came wanton Willy, and then the game went on.

The piper he struck up, and merrily he did play,

The shaking of the sheets and eke the Irish hay:

Then up with Aley, Aley, up with Priss and Prue;

In came wanton Willy, amongst the Jovial crew.

Now with this jovial Wedding, I do conclude my Song,

And wish that Trenchmore Lasses, they may live merry and long:

Then up with Aley, Aley, up with the merry train:

We will all be merry, if e're we meet again.

Arabella was right. It was a wanton, lusty dance, and for the first few bars Sophie had to watch his steps, but before long she had a feel for the rhythm of the song and the steps.

Niall was the perfect partner, for when she erred he only laughed and spun her around faster, apparently not minding that she threw in a step or two of her own.

Across the room, the green-eyed bug bit Gillian. "My, they do make a lively couple, do they not?" she said.

Jamie kept his solemn gaze on the dancers and did not reply.

Sophie laughed as Niall whirled her with such speed that her skirts lifted from the floor, and she was sure everyone could see her blue slippers.

It was at this point that Sophie realized no other dancers had joined them. In France, this was not the sort of dance one did at family gatherings, or in the presence
pf
their guests.

But Sophie knew Niall would not have requested the tune or asked her to dance if it would truly embarrass or anger his brother, and she so desperately needed to be young and carefree. If only for one night, she wanted to laugh and enjoy herself. She wanted to forget who she was, and why she was here, and leave caution stomped beneath their lively feet.

When the music ended, as wildly as it started, with a final climax of increasing volume and tempo, Niall put his hands around Sophie's waist and lifted her above his head and spun her around before lowering her, laughing and gasping for breath, to the floor.