30. Edie #2
She turns to us with a sweet smile. “Donald’s prize Highland bull has a bit of a… performance problem.” She wiggles her pinkie finger with a meaningful look, making everyone except Donald laugh.
His colour rises in his already-ruddy cheeks, and he blusters wordlessly for a moment then shakes his head.
“I’m off to have a word with Jack Munro,” he says, stomping off in disgust.
“I could kiss you,” Rory says, putting an arm around Kate and squeezing her shoulder. “I thought I was going to be stuck with the old bastard all night.”
“ There you are,” says Anna indignantly as she taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see her standing there with a furious expression on her face. “I was looking everywhere. There are so many people in dresses like yours I couldn’t pick you out.”
Anna’s gone for red carpet glam. Her hair is glossy and pinned to fall over one shoulder, her dress and nails are matching scarlet.
But it’s clear that the dramatic last-minute entrance has fallen flat and she is not happy.
Everyone’s too busy drinking and dancing and laughing.
Janey’s been dragged into a wildly chaotic version of Strip the Willow.
Jamie’s in the corner behind a chocolate fountain, shirt sleeves rolled up, getting stuck in.
“I can’t see anyone in a dress as beautiful as Edie’s,” says Kate doing an over-exaggerated scan of the room. “And I’m not just saying that because I helped pick it out.”
Rory doesn’t say anything, but I feel his eyes on me and my skin prickles under his gaze. And then I feel Anna’s eyes on both of us.
“Anyway,” she says with a little pout of her freshly applied red lipstick. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”
Rory, of course, having impeccable manners, jumps into action. A moment later a boy in a white shirt and dark trousers appears with a tray of cocktails. Anna downs one, plonks it back on the tray and helps herself to another.
“I need to catch up,” she says breezily. I avoid Rory’s eye and pretend to be very interested in the band on their balcony above us. They’ve stopped for a moment, and everyone is taking the opportunity to take a breather to recover from the exertion of ceilidh dancing.
Kate turns around, putting her hand on my arm.
“Oh god, Fenella’s here.”
Rory’s back stiffens almost imperceptibly.
I follow her gaze to see a tall blonde sweeping into the room, dressed in jet black satin, dripping in diamonds, her hair swept back to show off her cheekbones. Anna’s eyes narrow instinctively because whoever this is has just made exactly the sort of entrance she was aiming for and missed.
She glides through the crowd, air-kissing a few guests, managing to sail through the melee without so much as a hair being knocked out of place. And I look at Rory to see his jaw is rigid.
She comes to a stop in front of the young boy holding a tray and picks up a canape as if she’s doing him a favour. I stand by the window trying not to stare, feeling myself starting to shrink. The band starts up again.
And then Rory takes my arm.
“Dance with me.” The words are almost a murmur but it’s not a question, it’s a command.
“What?” I take a sip of my cocktail and cough as it hits the back of my throat .
He holds out his hand, an inscrutable expression on his face.
I take it and follow him onto the dancefloor as the music starts. It’s the Gay Gordons , which is the only dance we learned in school that made any sense. As we pass Fenella, I feel her eyes boring into my back but I’m too busy concentrating to notice.
“Are you counting steps?” He cocks his head slightly.
Two three four , I think to myself as I nod. “I can’t keep up otherwise.”
He laughs and I’m reminded how handsome he looks when he’s smiling.
While the aristocracy around us twirls and flirts, I remember the cottages he renovated for women with nowhere to go.
Ginny from the coffeeshop whizzes past with a wave and a huge smile, and we pass Fenella, who manages to glare at me and eye up Rory at the same time. It’s almost impressive.
“Am I dancing with you so you don’t have to talk to her?” If he can ask questions – two three four – so can I.
“You’re dancing with me because I wanted to dance with you.”
Something inside my stomach does a very definite swoop.
“If I have to put on this ridiculous ball there has to be some benefit.”
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Rory’s hand is on my waist as he spins me around, and it feels like it’s burning through the fabric of my dress. I look up, surprised by how dark his green eyes look in this light.
“You don’t like any of it?”
“I like this part.” His brow raises slightly, and he smirks.
The music slows at just the wrong time, and we end up pausing right in front of Fenella, who is in full on toxic ex mode.
“Well, let him have his dalliance with the commoner,” I hear, very clearly. “He’ll need someone better bred in the future…”
The voice is cool and amused. I feel myself stiffen in Rory’s arms. My feet keep moving but I feel like I’m detached from my body, like I’ve stepped out of myself and I’m watching myself from a distance.
“Edie?”
“I’m fine,” I say, puffing a breath upwards to demonstrate. “Just a bit warm.”
He doesn’t press me. I dance with him as though nothing has changed, even though everything has. One cutting sentence reminds me that this isn’t my place – that I’m only a temporary fixture.
A moment later another voice – this time warm, melodic and husky – makes me turn in surprise. Annabel’s standing on the side of the dance floor in a dark gold dress which makes her look like a goddess from ancient Greece, her honey-coloured highlights warm in the glow of the candlelight.
“Annabel,” Rory says as she reaches out to embrace him. “You made it.”
She puts a hand on my arm and one on Rory’s, drawing us both close to her. He looks delighted to see her – she’s the closest thing she has to family now, only without any of the toxic ties of the past.
Her memoir was the one serious project I’ve done, the only job that ever made me think I could be more than background noise .
“Darlings.” She beams. “Couldn’t be happier to walk in and find you two dancing in each other’s arms.”
“Oh, I’m not—” I protest, blushing. “I mean we’re not?—”
I take an awkward step backward and almost stand on an unsuspecting kilted man. He hops deftly out of the way and gives me a knowing grin. “Take more water with it, hen,” he says as he twirls his partner away from us.
“Sorry I’m so late.” Annabel fluffs up her hair and takes out a gold compact from her bag, checking her lipstick. “Had to catch a lift with Freddie James in his chopper and it plays havoc with your hair.”
I nod in what I hope is a suitably sympathetic manner. Sometimes if I have to stand on the tube and I’m next to a window it’s a bit blowy, which is basically the same thing. Ish.
Kate approaches as Rory’s cornered by a red-cheeked farmer in a too-short red kilt and dragged into a conversation about cows and fencing.
“Hello sweetie,” says Annabel, kissing her on both cheeks. “You look beautiful. Where’s Jamie?”
Kate shrugs. “No idea.”
“Ah,” says Annabel, casting a glance around the room. “I thought you might—never mind.”
The farmer has brought in reinforcements and now there are two of them pointing and gesticulating at Rory, who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
“I’m going to rescue that poor boy,” says Annabel.
The music changes and there’s a collective whoop of delight as I hear a familiar tune.
“Oh no,” I say, already backing away.
“Oh yes,” says Kate, grinning like a lunatic as she grabs Gregor and drags him – still in his apron – onto the dance floor. “Nobody escapes the Willow. ”
Annabel returns, having caught Rory by the arm and charmed him away from the farmers. He downs his drink and puts the glass down on the windowsill beside a candelabra.
“Come on then,” she says, pulling me into the line. Rory’s standing opposite me with a challenging look on his face.
“I can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head and laughing.
“What’s the matter, Jones?” Rory says teasing. “You’re not afraid of a dance, are you?”
It must be the whisky talking. He sounds like the dry, amused Rory I met in New York. His mouth curves in a sexy half-smile.
“I failed Scottish dancing in school,” I protest weakly as he takes both my hands.
“Follow me,” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard, I promise.”
“It is if you have two left feet,” I mutter, but I can’t help laughing as he tows me to the top of the two lines of people facing each other.
And then the music starts and we’re off.
I’m whirled around in Rory’s firm grip, then twirled by Annabel then tossed like a cork back into the melee before it starts all over again.
By the end of the dance I’m sweating, tendrils of hair are hanging loose around my face, and I feel like I’ve done an hour-long spin class.
We tumble off the dance floor, laughing and gasping for breath. I’m clutching my sides, laughing so hard I can hardly breathe.
“That was possibly the worst Strip the Willow that has ever been danced.”
“That’s slander,” Rory replies. “I was excellent. You were deeply suspect.”
“I can’t feel my ribs.” I put my hands on my sides.
“You have to respect the rhythm. ”
“I could go off you, you know.”
Rory grins.
“Could I change your mind with a drink?”
I nod, still breathless. “I could be persuaded.” My heart is hammering against my ribs and it’s not just because I’m out of breath. Something feels like it’s shifted, like for tonight Rory’s off duty and he’s more like the man I first met.