Page 68 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
The door was open.
Inside, a fire crackled in the hearth and Rhys stood near the head of the table, a hand resting on the back of a chair. He turned when she entered, and she didn’t miss the flicker of heat in his eyes.
“Ye found me,” he said, voice low.
“I think I was meant to,” she replied, smoothing her skirts.
His lips twitched, and then he nodded toward the others already seated.
Daisy was bouncing in her chair. Her cheeks were still flushed with joy, and she looked eager to share her progress with Cherry.
Next to her sat a man Amara didn’t recognize. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and the picturesque Adams smile with dimples to match. One of his arms was in a sling and bandages were visible at the collar.
This must be Finn.
Across from him, sat a slender woman with a kind face and sleeves rolled to the elbow.
The town healer… what was her name again?
“Lady Amara,” Rhys said, “this is Finn. Me cousin. And Mabel, who kept him alive long enough to insult everyone again.”
Finn grinned, teeth flashing. “I’d rise to greet ye, but I’ve been forbidden to jostle off me stitches.”
Amara smiled. “It’s an honor to meet ye, truly.”
“And a pleasure for me,” Finn said. “Rhys dinnae tell us that ye were such a bonny one.”
“I feel at a disadvantage then, Rhys warned me that ye would be a flatterer,” Amara replied, arching a brow.
Mabel snorted into her wine. “Daenae encourage him. He’ll write sonnets next.”
Finn waggled his brows and Daisy erupted into giggles.
The meal passed in waves of laughter, small talk, and teasing. Mabel passed dishes down the table with brisk affection, and Finn told outrageous tales of his escape.
All half-truths, she suspected, but delivered with such charm that no one cared.
Daisy could hardly sit still. She clung to every word, eyes wide, peppering Finn with questions.
And Rhys didn’t say much. But he watched it all. And every so often, when Amara caught his eye, he’d look at her as if she were part of it all. Almost like she belonged there.
It was terrifying how much those looks meant to her.
After supper, the group lingered until Daisy yawned mid-sentence.
“That’s our cue,” Rhys said, standing. “Come, little fox.”
Daisy pouted but slid from her chair and grabbed her father’s hand.
“I’ll see ye tomorrow,” she told Finn solemnly.
“Aye, I wouldnae even dream of missin' it,” Finn said, bowing slightly. “I’ll have another tale ready.”
Amara followed Rhys and Daisy down the hall, warmth from the fire still on her cheeks and wine humming in her veins.
They reached the fork in the corridor. One side toward Daisy’s wing, the other toward their chambers, and Rhys paused.
“I’ll take her,” he told Amara softly.
