Chapter 30 #2
“But Da says it should be a book,” Finn chirps. “Like, a real one!”
“And I stand by that comment,” I say.
“Wait, Lachlan’s heard the story?” Logan says, hands on his hips. “You said after Finn, we’d be the next to hear it. That’s not fair!”
“Aye!” Rosie chimes in, never one to let her twin fight alone. “We want to hear about the otter too.” She crosses her arms like a tiny lawyer.
Blair holds up her hands, laughing. “It’s not even finished yet.”
“You said that last time,” Isla points out. “Just read it to us already!”
Ellie chuckles. “Sounds like you’d better finish it soon, Blair. And maybe next year you can read it here, in the storytelling tent.” The kids erupt in noisy agreement.
“Talking of performing,” Struan says to Ellie, “you ready for tonight?”
“Yes! Though I’m not used to being the centre of attention this much. Normally it’s just me in my wee library. But today I’ve been telling stories to the young ones and I’ll be up on stage playing music tonight. That’s more spotlight in one day than I usually get in a month.”
“Ach, you’ll be great,” Struan assures her. “You always are.”
Douglas smirks. “Aye, besides, everyone will be too busy watching Struan flick his curls around, eh?”
The group laughs, Isla hardest of all. “It’s true, Daddy! You do flick them!”
Struan rolls his eyes then sighs and gives a dramatic toss of his hair, earning more laughter. Ellie laughs too, but more softly than the rest of us. She fidgets with her skirt. Must have jitters about tonight.
“Don’t worry, Ellie,” Blair cuts in, “we won’t be so distracted by Struan’s hair that we forget to cheer you on. Right, Douglas?”
“What? Oh, aye, right.” He flashes Ellie a smile. “You’ll be great.”
The sun’s slipping lower now, painting the harbour in peach and gold. As if on cue, fairy lights strung between the lampposts blink on, turning the whole festival into something out of a storybook.
Struan ruffles Isla’s hair. “Right then, princess, I’m off to make some music. You be good for Lachlan and Douglas, aye?”
“When am I not good?” she asks, perfectly serious, as if the idea she could misbehave is absurd.
He heads towards the temporary stage near the Fisherman’s Memorial, the sea glittering behind it. A few minutes later he’s up there with his guitar, joined by Ellie with her fiddle and Rab, a fifty-something fisherman, on accordion. The three of them look right at home together.
“Evening, Ardmara!” Struan’s voice booms through the mic, all easy confidence. “Who’s up for a wee bit of Highland music?”
The crowd cheers, and the band launches into a fast, rollicking reel that grabs everyone in its grip. Near the front, couples start swaying, then properly dancing, turning the whole thing into an impromptu ceilidh in the glow of the sinking sun.
Blair’s already shifting with the music, eyes bright, caught up in the rhythm. She lifts her chin, hopeful. “Want to give it a shot?”
My gut tightens. I’ve been putting myself out there more today, but this? Dancing? In front of half the town?
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I say.
Her smile falters, just for a second, but she recovers quickly. “No worries. I’ll just... uh, dance with Gus when we get back to the house. If I can wake him up. Poor pup was exhausted when we dropped him off.”
Christ, she’s always so upbeat, trying to make a joke out of things even when I let her down.
The song comes to an end, and Struan’s voice booms out again.
“Brilliant stuff! Good to see so many of you already dancing. But I couldn’t help noticing there’s a beautiful American among us who looks desperate for a dance.
” His gaze lands on Blair, and his grin turns devilish.
“And yet nobody’s invited her up? Do I have any volunteers?
Douglas, maybe? Go on, Douglas, ask her for a dance! ”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and heads turn towards Blair. She gives a small, helpless laugh of her own, her cheeks going pink.
That does it. I’m not standing here like a bloody statue while Douglas—or anyone else, for that matter—dances with Blair. No chance.
“Actually,” I say, taking her hand, “I can manage one dance.”
She turns to me, her face lighting up brighter than the bulbs strung overhead. “Really?”
“Aye. Really.”
I lead her to the makeshift dance floor as the band strikes up another tune. I can feel eyes on us—hell, I can hear the whispers —but the second Blair steps into my arms and we start to move, everything else fades away.
She’s right there with me, following my lead even when my feet get it wrong, laughing when I spin her a bit too enthusiastically. Her dress swirls around her legs, her hair glowing in the last of the sunlight, and Christ, she’s beautiful.
“See?” she says, grinning up at me. “You’re not so bad at this.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” I mutter, but I’m smiling too.
The music swells, Ellie’s fiddle soaring over the top, and I find myself relaxing into it. Into this. Into her. Some of the cheers feel aimed at us specifically, but instead of making me self-conscious, they push me to hold Blair closer.
Off to the side, Finn claps along, beaming at us, until Isla grabs his hands and pulls him into their own little jig beside us. The crowd lets out a collective “aww” at the sight of them, and Blair laughs, her eyes sparkling with joy.
When the song finally ends, I don’t let go. Not immediately. Not with the whole town applauding, not with Blair breathless in my arms, smiling up at me like she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.