“I’m sure you are,” Honoria muttered. She turned back to Lash, who was observing her with faint amusement. “He is,” she felt compelled to say again. “Imagining things.”
“Of course,” Lash murmured, but his eyes were saying something else. They were stroking her with urgent, unfaltering caresses.
A lock of hair fell rakishly over his forehead, and Honoria broke the spell before she did something as damning as brush it away.
“Hello, I am here too,” Isla remarked peevishly from their left.
“You are hardly of age,” Hugh said.
“And you are a foxed chaperone,” Isla shot back.
“Only the residue of the whisky remains, I assure you.”
“On your breath,” Honoria muttered, her eyes trailing back to Lash. He was still staring at her, and this time when their eyes locked, a strong feeling of complicity wrapped around her like soft, silken thread.
She smiled.
It was funny what could happen in the space of one heartbeat.
For all his talk about focus and discipline, Lash’s mind possessed not a whit of them. He found it impossible to focus on anything other than her lips, or the stray curl that forever remained unpinned. It was the strangest thing. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, Honoria MacCallan had embedded herself in his mind. And she was damn adorable in her attempt to learn this dance.
He raked his gaze over her, lingering on her mouth.
She was a distraction.
A big one.
And not because his thoughts kept straying to their kiss, but the Highlander was right. Teaching The Flamenco to two Scottish women instead of dealing with his brother was absurd.
And yet.
If she kept staring at him with stars in her eyes, his feet would sprout deeper roots. The Highlander had been on the mark again. But more than stars glittering in her amber gaze, she looked at him as though his dirty, calloused hands alone could bestow her the world.
Leaving wasn’t an option. They had saved his life. He would go against everything he believed, his very way of life, to stay with her. Until Danior was dealt with, then he would bid his farewell and clear off in search of his sister.
“I wonder what Callum and Kieran would say about this dance.” Isla broke through his thoughts.
“Laugh until their heads fall off,” Hugh drawled, stretching his arms. “Like I’m trying not to do.”
Lash’s interest perked. “What exactly will they do upon their return?” he asked, wondering how well Honoria’s siblings would take the news of him endangering their family. “Round up my brother and toss him in a dungeon?”
“Aye, and throw away the key to the lock,” Hugh said. “But before that, they’d attempt to run him off.”
On that point, Lash remained skeptical.
The unexpected touch of Honoria laying a hand on his arm fired up his blood. “Whatever the plan, we will not abandon you, Lash.”
An overwhelming surge of emotion washed over him. There she went again; saying words that burrowed deep in his bones, staring at him in a way that made him want to melt into a puddle.
Him. Melt. A puddle.
“Aye,” the Highlander drawled from the sofa. “It so happens we have a vacancy for a gardener.”
