Page 8 of The Rogue’s Redemption

“Shhh,” she said, cutting him off—she would never, ever, admit what had shaken her—and turned to greet her sister.

“Gillian,” she said. “Graeme.”

They both murmured greetings. Gillian had been watching one of the musicians play the rebec, the stringed instrument whose soft, melodic sound had entranced both sisters from an early age.

“Gill,” she said, lowering herself. “Do you remember the time I begged Father to allow me to learn to play?” Taking her usual seat between her sister and Aidan, she forced herself to concentrate on the company of her companions rather than looking out into the crowd.

“I do.” Gillian’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And I also remember when you stole that poor man’s instrument—”

“Borrowed,” she cut in.

“My sister, the thief.” Aidan winked at her as he nudged his goblet toward a servant making the rounds with a carafe of wine.

Allie did the same.

Before responding to the accusation, she picked up her wine and took a small sip. Her eyes darted toward the crowded room and then back. “Father, of course, refused to arrange for lessons. But I simply had to know if I could play as well as the musician did. It did not look overly difficult—”

“And was it?” Aidan asked.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

Gillian’s laugh attracted more than a few stares. Allie hid her own smile behind the goblet as she took a more lingering sip.

“Shouldn’t you ask those of us who had to listen?” Gillian said. “Mother caught her with it and gave the instrument back to its rightful owner. Thank the heavens. My poor ears—”

“Enough,” Allie begged. “If Mother could have, just once, supported us over Father.” She’d tried to say it lightly, as a jest, but the words had too much truth to them. “I will gladly let the musician provide the entertainment this eve.”

When she looked back out into the hall this time, their eyes met.

Allie had spotted him moments before, three tables away from her, though she’d immediately looked away. The man was too large, too alive, to be ignored. Allie noticed two things at once. She was not the only woman in the hall looking at him. And his interest in her had not waned. If anything, his stares were even bolder. Though he was dressed simply, his deep green surcoat proclaimed him anything but common. A chief, perhaps?

“No.”

She looked at Gillian. “Pardon?”

“Absolutely, not. Do not consider it, even for a moment.”

Her sister had the attention of the entire head table. She gave her head a little shake as if to say, We will discuss this later. And proceeded to promptly change the topic.

No? Had Gillian seen her looking at Reid Kerr? It seemed likely. Her sister never missed even the smallest detail. If she had caught her looking—as she was doing surreptitiously now while pretending the just-served pigeon pie was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen—then she clearly had a poor opinion of the man. An opinion that likely fit Allie’s own observations.

Then why did it take every bit of self-restraint for her to eat her meal without looking his way?

“He is horrid.” Gillian whispered the accusation between sips of wine. Clearly, her aversion to Reid was such that she couldn’t wait to disparage him.

“I know.”

And she did. Rather than allow him to distract her, she should concentrate on enjoying the meal and listening to the fine music Gillian had commissioned. She turned to do just that, only her eyes didn’t heed her. They sought out Reid in the crowd. And he was still looking at her.

4

“Please, please, please tell me you were not looking at Reid Kerr that way.”

Gillian had cornered her, waylaying her attempt to retire early. No longer hungry, she’d found it impossible to sit in that hall any longer. It was as if a swarm of butterflies had invaded the meal and were attempting fly up under her gown. Her hands shook and her head was filled with visions of the impossible Scotsman.

She had made it across the length of the hall, past their guests and nearly halfway through the corridor that led to the stairs, and freedom, before Gillian grabbed her arm from behind.

“That way?”