The lass with the red-gold braid turned around. As their gazes met, Connor had the oddest sensation that he was seeing her through a swirling fog. The hall and all the sounds and people in it faded into the mist, and he saw only her.
The lass's eyes widened and her lips parted as if she recognized him before she turned away. Connor's heart lurched, and a terrible longing filled him, just as it had that night in the faery glen. An instant later, disappointment hit him like a fist to his chest because he knew this could not be his faery lass. He had long since realized that the loss of blood from his wounds that night had caused him to imagine her.
How strange that someone in the midst of this noisy, crowded hall had made him think of the faery glen and the ethereal lass who danced with such abandon in his imagination. He was never given to flights of fancy or romantic notions. Yet the fragility of her slender frame engendered an unexpected and powerful urge to protect her.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"Come, let's find out," Moira said and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.
As they approached, the men surrounding the lass made room for Connor next to her. There were some advantages to being a chieftain.
"Take a stroll with me tomorrow and show me where ye found those wee blue flowers in your hair," one of the men said, which caused her cheeks to blush a pretty pink. "Say ye will, Ilysa."
"Ilysa?" Connor did not realize he had spoken the question aloud until the lass spun toward him.
Connor's mouth fell open. This close, he could see that this was indeed Ilysa, but she was so changed - wonderfully so - that his mind was slow to grasp it.
How had he failed to notice how truly lovely her brown eyes were? A man could get lost in them. His gaze dropped to her gown, and his throat tightened. All this time, she had hidden a lithe body beneath oversize gowns.
"I don't recall seeing your hair before," he said and reached out to touch a shining, red-gold strand that had come loose.
She stepped back from him. "Good evening to ye, Connor."
Connor started at the sound of her familiar, calm voice and dropped his hand. What was he thinking, touching her hair in front of a room full of people, as if he were a lover who could not keep his hands off her. How could Ilysa sound so serene when his pulse was pounding at his temples?
"What happened to ye?" he blurted out.
"Your sister and S
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