Page 3 of Keeping Kate
“Aye, the older lady seems just your sort. I wish you well of her,” Alec drawled. Chuckling softly at Jack’s quick scowl, he strode toward the hall’s main doors, where two liveried porters stood. His cousin hurried to catch up.
Still clutching the shining guinea in his hand, he handed it to the porter as he left the hall. He did not want the English king’s gold.
She felt takenup by a whirlwind, spun, left trembling. Setting a shaking hand over her thumping heart, Kate MacCarran glanced back to watch the two Highlanders through the narrow gap of the doorway.
With only a few searing glances, the taller fellow, all unbidden, had captured her attention utterly. His strength and agility, the aura of quiet power that surrounded him, fascinated her. Blue eyes piercing under straight brows, brown hair liberally kissed with sunlight strands—he seemed as rugged as the mountains of his origin, as strong as earth and rock, an honorable Highlander like her own kinsmen. His comrade was a lean, dark, handsome young man as well.
Yet Kate noticed most keenly the taller of the two, and wondered at his identity. She had also noted, despite the Highland plaids and kit, that the dark young man had handed an officer’s red regimental coat to the golden-haired swordsman, who had quietly refused to don it. She understood that here in this English company. He wanted, she thought, to keep the integrity of his Highland identity—she felt sure of it.
Her aunt touched her arm to urge her onward, but Kate waved her ahead to where others strolled in the gallery. Left alone in the doorway, she watched as the two Highlanders departed the hall and vanished in the shadows.
She felt a sudden wild longing, wanting to go with them back to the Highlands, back to home, to the hills, to adventure. But she had business to complete here before she could return north, and she would not let herself become infatuated with a stranger. The dream might be pleasant, but the risks were far too great.
At her throat, the crystal pendant on its silver chain sparkled, warmed to her touch. Its presence reassured her, brought her focus back to her mission here. The crystal served as a subtle reminder of the gift of the fairy blood within her, the legacy of her family, the importance of her Highland roots.
Love makes its own magic,claimed the motto of her clan. Kate had been born with the gift of theglamourie,as her family called it—in her case, it was the ability to bespell a man with a mere touch or a glance. But the tall Highland swordsman had not wavered under her glance, had not turned adoring and obedient, like a puppy ready to do all her will. The other man—aye, she might be able to charm him if need be. She liked that fellow on sight, but it was the other, the taller officer, who had caught all her attention. His silence, his stillness and control, the aura of strength and pride—aye, and something hurt within, that too—intrigued her deeply.
Yet she must never let herself be captivated by a stranger, even if he made her heart beat faster in a way she had never quite experienced before. She must only use her gift of charm to help her Jacobite kinsmen. That was why she was here. That was why she was doing the clandestine work to hand. She must not lose sight of her purpose.
Yet she felt as if the unknown Highlander had thrown a glamourie over her this time, and not the other way around. She was the one caught, the one enchanted while he walked away, having forgotten her.
She turned, smoothing the skirt of her gown. Across the room, her aunt conversed with a blustery lieutenant-general who had spent years plotting military strategies against the Jacobites. Kate felt sure she could coax a smile from him, fluff his arrogance and warm his heart to a pretty lass with sparkling eyes who seemed fascinated by him—and soon enough learn tidbits of information that would benefit her northern kinsmen.
Summoning a smile, she moved forward.
