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Helen’s gaze glided along the folds of the kilt and down until she saw his bare knees peeking out from between the kilt and the hose.

Helen swallowed. Despite the intimate relationship they’d been in, Helen had never seen Ian naked. Even when he spent the night in her bed, he was always dressed. And when they were on the road, she had been too delirious to realize whether he was ever undressed in her presence.

So the view of his bare knees was the most naked skin she’d seen from him. And she was definitely curious to see more.

Ian stepped closer to her and Helen’s cheeks burned, realizing that she’d been staring for a long time without saying a word. But then Ian hadn’t spoken yet either.

His hands settled on her bodice, and he pinned a brooch with a crest and a little bow made out of tartan with red and green stripes, the same colors and pattern that Ian was wearing.

“Just a little something to remind everyone that you belong to me,” he said hoarsely. “This is the crest and the colors of the McAllistair clan.”

The heat that started in Helen’s cheeks quickly spread through her entire body. “Thank you,” was all she could say.

When she entered the ball on Ian’s arm for a few brief moments everyone’s attention was on them. Ian walked toward his father and for the first time since their arrival, formally introduced Helen to the earl.

Lord Atholl bowed over her hand and then raised it over her head proclaiming to the guests that he approved of his son’s English bride.

And that was the moment that Helen realized that everything had just become a thousand times more real. Everyone in this ballroom now knew Helen as Ian’s wife. And she had no earthly idea how they would get out of this scrape.

The scandal wouldn’t hurt Ian, she tried to convince herself. Hopefully, the news of their ‘matrimony’ wouldn’t reach London and as soon as they got back, everything would go back to normal.

Ian didn’t seem perplexed either as he conversed with people who approached them to congratulate them on their nuptials. And for the time being, Helen decided not to worry about it and instead just enjoy the ball.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and tomorrow everything would figure itself out.

So Helen embraced her role as a new bride as she walked proudly around the ballroom on the arm of the most handsome lord at the ball. And she had to admit that it felt good, to be close to him, and for people to refer to her as his wife.

Other than the nerve-wracking and equally exhilarating task of pretending to be Ian’s bride, once Helen relaxed, she came to enjoy the festivities. Scottish balls didn’t differ all that much from the English ones, Helen noted inwardly. The music was livelier, the sounds of a fiddle and pipes filled the air. And the general atmosphere was a lot more relaxed and joyful than that of a typical English ball.

The main difference was in the dress of the attendees, as a few of the men were proudly wearing kilts, and some women had sashes made out of tartan.

They stopped to greet yet another couple who congratulated them on their nuptials.

“Enjoyin’ yer newlywed days, eh?” The old, rotund lord laughed and punched Ian on his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Lovely tae see ye, Tavish. I am definitely enjoyin’ acquaintin’ my bride wi’ th’ Highlands. An’ how is Colum and Moire?” Ian replied.

Helen couldn’t avert her gaze from Ian when he spoke to his countrymen. His speech immediately slipped into his Scottish dialect, almost leaving no trace of his refined English accent. And Helen had to admit that she enjoyed listening to him speak like that.

“Colum is in London at th’ moment an’ Moire married intae th’ McKenzie clan. She is here somewhere wi’ her husband,” the man said proudly.

Helen wasn’t versed in Scottish titles and clans, but she assumed that the McKenzie clan was a powerful one if the man’s reaction was anything to go by. She tried to concentrate on the rest of the conversation, but the man’s accent was quite thick for her ears.

The amusing part was that as the conversation went along, Ian’s accent also took on a thicker lilt to the point of Helen barely understanding what he was saying as well. Or perhaps they jumped back and forth between English and Gaelic.

It didn’t matter. Helen loved the melody of the words flowing out of Ian’s mouth. It was as if he was singing. And she enjoyed every moment of it.

Ian turned toward her and raised a brow when he noticed her focused attention. Helen just smiled as they said goodbyes to the older couple.

“Is anything amiss?” Ian asked once they resumed their promenade around the ballroom.

“No, nothing,” Helen answered, still smiling.

“You were staring,” Ian supplied, in his usual English accent that she was used to.

“Very well, perhaps I was. It’s only because of your accent.”

He frowned and thought something over in his head. “What’s wrong with my accent?”