“I am much improved now that I’ve seen ye. Aye, as bonny as ever ye were, Mared. A Highland beauty.”
“Do you like it?” she asked, gesturing to her gown, then leaned forward and whispered, “I paid one hundred pounds for it. Can ye imagine!”
“Diah,” he said and looked her over again, his gaze landing on the luckenbooth she wore. “I like it very much,” he said and lifted his gaze to hers. “Ye are undeniably the most beautiful woman here.”
Her heart, she noticed, gave her a bit of a bump at that—she’d been told she was beautiful by more than one man this evening, but when Payton said it, she could feel the compliment radiate throughout her body and beam back at him through her smile.
“Will ye dance with me?” he asked, and when she nodded, he led her out onto the dance floor.
When the music began, he opened his arms and Mared stepped into them, slipping her hand into his. With his hand securely around her waist, he calmly and smoothly drew her toward his chest as he expertly led her into a waltz.
She smiled up at him. “It’s good to see ye.” She meant it. It was damn good to see him.
He smiled warmly.
“What news have ye brought of Eilean Ros?”
He shrugged a little. “All is the same.”
“And the staff?”
“Happy in the service of the new housekeeper,” he said. “Mrs. Rawlins.”
“Aha, a new housekeeper,” she said with approval. “That would account for the perfection of yer clothing, then.”
“It would indeed,” Payton said with a lopsided smile.
“And the distillery? Grif says it will proceed, aye?”
“Eilean Ros whiskey will be bottled by the end of the coming year.”
“Congratulations,” Mared said, nodding her head in a mock bow. “I know how ye’ve wanted it.”
“Thank ye,” he said, nodding back. There was a glimmer in his eyes, that ever-present hint of amusement that she realized she missed.
“Ye seem to have settled into…this,” he said, glancing around at the grandeur of the Aitkin mansion.
“Oh, ’tis bonny, the soirees and the balls.”
He pulled her a little closer; his gaze fell to her décolletage. “I am overcome,” he said quietly, “at how beautiful ye are, Mared. I always thought it, but to see ye like this…ye astonish me.”
Mared felt that peculiar tug again, as if some invisible rope had circled her heart and was pulling it from her chest. “Ye should come to Edinburra more often,” she suggested lightly and smiled. “I’ve more gowns.”
That earned her a sad smile, and Payton shook his head. “I’ve Eilean Ros to care for. And the distillery. And God help me if I should leave the sheep unattended—yer dogs might herd them all the way to the sea, aye?”
“Aye,” she laughed. “I trained them well, I did.”
He chuckled and pulled her closer. “It’s damn good to hold ye in my arms again.”
A palpable heat was unfurling in her, a heat that only Payton seemed capable of arousing in her. “It’s damn good to be in them,” she admitted in a whisper.
That pleased him, for he smiled deeply and pulled her even closer, his gaze, deep and intimate. They danced on that way, their gazes locked, Mared’s smile bright and her awareness of anyone or anything else rapidly fading away.
When the waltz ended, Mared curtsied, but Payton did not let go her hand. “Walk with me.”
She laughed. “Where shall we walk? ’Tis terribly cold out, and the house is filled to the rafters.”
He smiled confidently. “Walk with me.” He gave her a subtle wink, firmly placing her hand on his arm, and led her out of the ballroom. They walked into the corridor, which was equally crowded, but Payton led her purposefully toward the entrance.
But just as they might have stepped into the foyer, Payton ushered Mared into a room on their right and shut the door behind him. It was the room where the footmen had laid the coats and wraps. Apair of rush torches on the drive provided a soft amber light by which they could see. Payton walked to the windows and peered out for a moment.
“What if someone thinks to leave?” Mared asked. “They shall want to fetch their wrap.”
“No one is leaving this ball for some time.” He turned around and looked at her. “I’ve missed ye, lass.”
“I’ve missed ye as well.”
“The house is so empty without ye.”
For a moment, neither of them moved, just stood staring at one another. Mared felt as if someone had turned everything upside down, but then Payton was striding toward her. She met him halfway, launching herself into his arms, her mouth eagerly seeking his. His tongue swept hungrily into her mouth, his hands sought her face, her shoulders, her ribs. “Mared…”