Chapter 2 #2
“We should dance,” Evander said firmly.
Now that was a surprise.
Her head snapped up. “We should what?”
He shrugged. “Ye often dance when ye are unsettled. I’ve seen it.
Ye dance when ye are afraid or sad. Or when ye are angry, most often.
Nae that I paid much attention to yer dancing,” he added, a little too hastily.
“But it’s a wee bit hard to miss a lassie dancing like a lunatic after I forbade her to—” He stopped, clearing his throat.
She narrowed her eyes. “Forbade me to do what?”
“Nothing.”
“Nay, daenae nothing me, man. What did ye forbid me to do?”
He heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “I forbade ye to visit the village on yer own. Ye werenae happy.”
“Well, that does sound like me.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I daenae want to dance out there, where everybody can see me and stare.”
“Of course nae. I thought we could dance here. We can hear the music, and there’s privacy. What do ye say?”
He rose to his feet, lifting his eyebrows, and extended a hand.
Skye gave a tentative smile. Clambering to her feet, she placed her palm in his. “Aye,” she murmured.
He drew her close, the two of them poised to begin.
Why do I nae feel ill at ease or uncomfortable? Why do I feel… safe?
Her mind blurred, dizziness taking over, making the interior of the tent spin. Images flashed behind her eyes—something that wasn’t really there, not now, but had been there.
A memory.
One Year Ago
Creighton made the introductions, gesturing to Skye. She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Laird Bryden.
“Me cousin, Skye. She’s the sister of Laird MacCrimmon, as I’m sure ye ken,” Creighton said briskly.
His gaze kept wandering to the woman Laird Bryden had brought for the bride swap, a tall redhead. The woman was not particularly pretty, in Skye’s opinion, but she had an even, clear stare that spoke of a strong character. She’d have to be a strong character to manage Creighton, certainly.
“She’s agreed to enter into a betrothal with ye,” her cousin continued, focusing on the task at hand, “but the choice will be hers as to whether she’ll wed ye or nae.”
“Understood,” Laird Bryden answered. He glanced at her, his gaze inquisitive, and she returned his stare steadily. She did not smile or nod back.
Did he ken that his faither wanted to kill mine? Did he ken about his faither’s treason? The man worked with the English and nearly crippled the other clans!
She could think about that later. For now, Creighton busied himself with his fake-betrothed. Her name was Nora Lane, apparently, and she wasn’t related to Laird Bryden in any way. She wasn’t even a lady. She was a healer.
If I were Creighton, I’d be offended.
Her cousin didn’t seem offended. He was staring hungrily at the woman, and she stared right back, wide-eyed and fascinated.
Skye turned her attention back to her own problem and found Laird Bryden already staring at her. She flashed a wide smile and hoped that he could not tell it was insincere.
“I hope we willnae leave before we’ve enjoyed the festivities. Do ye care to dance? I love dancing.”
He blinked. “I daenae love it, but I can dance if ye would like.”
Well, that was a surprising start. She hadn’t imagined that he would give up his preferences so easily.
She gave a more sincere smile. “Aye, I’d like that very much.”
It soon became clear that Creighton was not staying and that he planned to hustle his lass away as soon as possible.
This is it, then, Skye thought, her heart pounding. The year begins.
She forced herself to turn away from Creighton to avoid something humiliating, like bursting into tears and running after him. She caught Laird Bryden staring down at her, his dark eyebrows drawn together.
“Nervous?” he asked.
She forced a laugh. “Of course nae.”
He extended a hand. “Are we dancing, then?”
Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. “Aye. Let’s dance.”
The two of them paused to tie their masks over their eyes before moving to the dance floor. It would be easier to go unrecognized.
He still held her hand, their palms pressed together, his fingers laced through hers. She had expected it to feel unpleasant, had braced herself to endure it.
But it wasn’t unpleasant. His grip remained gentle but not weak, and really, it was convenient to have him pulling her gently through the crowd.
They reached the dance floor and turned to face each other.
“I really am terrible at this,” he confessed. “What dance is this? A jig?”
“Aye,” she laughed. “Ye ken how to dance a jig, do ye nae?”
“Daenae count on it. And I’ll tell ye now, I willnae be responsible for how many times I tread on yer toes.”
“Tell ye what,” she responded sweetly. “Every time ye tread on me toes, I’ll kick ye in the shin. Ye’ll learn to pick up yer feet, I’m sure.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Goodness, ye are sharp. Careful ye daenae cut yerself on that blade of a tongue.”
“Oh, I prefer to cut others.”
A slow smile crept onto his face, only to be hastily banished, as if he remembered that this was a serious occasion.
The music blared, and the dancers began to spin.
He really was not a good dancer, stumbling through the steps and making her laugh. His stamina, however, was unmatched. He danced reel after reel with her, laughing when she trod on her own hem and stumbled right off the dance floor.
“Careful, careful!” he cried, hurrying after her. She righted herself, breathless with laughter.
“I am sorry,” she gasped. “I’m usually more graceful.”
“And I’m usually more serious. Me men will be laughing at me, capering around on a dance floor.” He grimaced. “Shall we take a break? I’m gagging for a wee sip of cider.”
She smiled up at him, still breathless.
Maybe he’s nae as bad as I thought.
“I could fetch some for us,” she offered.
His gaze locked onto hers and held, intensifying. It became harder to breathe. Had he moved closer to her, or had she moved closer to him? Perhaps—
Skye blinked, frowning. “Wait. Do ye hear that?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Hear what?”
“A wee meow. Like a cat or a kitten.”
“I didnae hear anything.”
She turned, peering into the dark undergrowth.
Dark? When did it get dark? Have we been here for hours already?
“There’s something in there,” she decided. “I’m going to look.”
Evander heaved a long-suffering sigh and stepped beside her. “Nae alone, ye arenae. Come on, lass. Lead the way.”
Pausing to smile up at him, she stepped off the path.