Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
As music swelled, filling the hall with undeniable merriment, Margo’s fingers brushed against the pendant tucked into her bodice.
“I should have had someone teach me how to dance,” Eleanor sighed dramatically, though she did not seem at all upset. “I keep stepping on everyone’s toes. They dance so differently here than they do back in England.”
“I feel the same. It is a shame I did not think to ask Mother to teach me Highland dances. Perhaps I believed they would be the same everywhere,” Margo said as she offered her sister her hand.
While she was enjoying meeting everyone, Margo was growing restless watching the rest of the guests enjoying the music on the dance floor.
“And my dance partner seems incredibly averse to the idea.”
Laughing, Eleanor followed Margo’s gaze to where Cameron lingered beside the drinks table talking to Lachlan and Hugh.
Now that the other women had pointed it out, Margo realized his eyes seemed to always seek her out.
More than once, she had caught him looking, and each time, she had averted her own eyes, her face burning, her breathing stuttering.
Or perhaps he’s only staring now because of what we did before joining the party.
“I am not surprised,” Eleanor said, accepting Margo’s wordless invitation. “Marian did say that he glared at couples dancing at her own wedding ceilidh.”
“You’re right, it is to be expected,” Margo admitted as she pulled her sister into the midst of the dancing couples.
While she did not know the style in which everyone else was moving, it followed counts of four.
Taking the lead position, Margo said, “To his credit, I could be dancing with anyone else. There are no rules stipulating I am only allowed to dance with my husband now that I am married.”
“And if he were displeased with you dancing with someone else, he is fully capable of interrupting the dance himself,” Eleanor said, her hands effortlessly falling into place due to the hours of practice in their bedrooms when they still lived at Abbott Manor. “He is your husband. It is his right.”
A sharp, barbed thrill ran through Margo. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest at the mere thought of it. Would Cameron truly come and demand a dance simply because he did not like that everyone’s attention was on her?
He would nott come and sweep her away, forbidding her to dance. She was sure of that now. No. If he were upset that others were watching, he would come and stake his claim on her. And she thought that she would very much like that kind of display.
“You say that as though he would be some sort of beast about it,” Margo said, spinning Eleanor to distract her from how flushed her face was. “He would be very polite. And perhaps a bit awkward.”
The subtle redirection away from herself worked, sending Eleanor into a fit of giggles.
Margo’s eyes darted to where Cameron was still speaking with the other men.
This time, when he met her gaze, she did not look away.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.
Though it was subtle, easy to miss, she had been memorizing and cataloguing his reactions long before she even realized what she was doing.
“Oh, I would love to see that,” Eleanor said gleefully, leaning in closer and lowering her voice as if she did not want anyone else to hear. “I am more interested in seeing him dance. Does he even know how?”
“I imagine he does,” Margo said, letting the music fill the silence between them as she thought. “He is a Laird. Surely, someone must have taught him.”
“The basics at least,” Marian said, leading Anna over to the sisters. “Lachlan told me that they had to learn when they were boys. My husband’s not a very good dancer most of the time. I imagine Cameron is the same.”
“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Anna said politely, though she did not look truly sorry.
Both of them were grinning, their cheeks a bit pink from exertion.
For most of the evening, both of them had been dancing with their husbands and socializing with the other guests.
They were at ease, exhilarated. Margo hoped that one day she would be able to keep names and faces of her guests in order, too.
Already, everyone was making her feel as though she were one of them.
“As long as it’s the two of you, I think it’s quite alright,” Margo said conspiratorially. “You would not run around telling everyone that we are theorizing about Laird MacLeod’s dancing abilities.”
“I do not know,” Anna said, her voice taking on the tone that Margo was coming to learn meant she was teasing. “This is quite riveting. Others might be dying to know whether or not you think your husband is a good dancer. This is a valuable piece of social currency.”
“You’re speaking as though this is English society,” Marian tutted, seeming to purposely make her movements harder to follow. “We all know that this is just everyday gossip. It would not get you anything but a polite chuckle from the maids.”
Eleanor snorted, then coughed to cover a laugh. Schooling her face into an acceptable level of excitement despite the almost manic joy dancing in her eyes, she said, “Sometimes a chuckle is valuable.”
“A chuckle is always valuable,” Margo said, the sound of Cameron’s rich, low laughter playing in her head and warming her bones. “So is a smile.”
“Any joy is worthwhile,” Marian said, her expression softening as she adjusted her step, following along with Margo’s dance. “But you’re right. We will not go and tell Cameron your opinions on his dancing.”
For a moment, the statement cushioned the air around them. She was thankful she had met the two women, regardless of how trepidatious the circumstances that brought her here were. Somehow, she was certain that things would be sorted.
“So,” Eleanor said, whispering once again, smiling so wide that her teeth showed, “what do you think, Margo? Is Cameron a good dancer?”
“Eleanor!” Margo hissed, pinching at her sister’s hip.
“I must say that I am curious as well,” Marian said, barely louder than the crescendo of the musicians and the laughter echoing off the walls of the Great Hall. “And we did just assure you that we would not go running off to tell Cameron what you think of him.”
“And even if we did, it would be quite easy for him to prove you wrong,” Anna pointed out, innocent on the surface, but just as caught up in the energy of the celebration. “All he would have to do is ask you to dance.”
“Are you implying that you believe I think Cameron would be a bad dancer?” Margo said, theatrically scandalized. “I would never.”
“You just said that you thought he’d be awkward,” Eleanor said unhelpfully.
Anna and Marian laughed, their heads moving closer together as they did. Margo sputtered, trying to conjure a way to defend herself. When it did not come, she laughed along with them, the lightness of the evening making it difficult to feel anything other than overwhelming joy.
“We won’t tell a soul,” Anna said as she straightened herself out. “Between the three of us, I do not think any of our husbands are any good at dancing.”
“I hope that my future husband is a competent dancer,” Eleanor said, a touch of her youth breaking through the veneer of adulthood she had been wearing since arriving at the Highlands.
“It might be wise to lower your expectations,” Marian said, giggling still. “We are not in England anymore. The men here are warriors. They do not concern themselves with things as frivolous as dancing.”
As their laughter was swallowed by the merriment of the crowd, Margo searched for Cameron once more. She was drawn to him as if he were a magnet. And, when she found him, she was not surprised to catch him already looking back at her.
I would like to dance with you. I do not think I’d care if you were good at it or not. As long as it’s you.
“I think ye should host the hunt if the deer are really givin’ ye that much trouble,” Lachlan said to Hugh.
The conversation was terribly boring to Cameron. He did not think he would ever be able to calm down after making Margo fall apart with nothing but his hands. It had taken him longer than he dared to admit to make himself presentable enough to join the ceilidh. Now, he was watching her from afar.
It was the only way to keep him from dragging her away once more. Now that he’d had a taste, he didn’t think he would be able to hold himself back. He wanted all of her.
“Send me an invitation when you set the date,” Cameron grunted, putting his drink on the table and stepping away from them when Margo spun Eleanor around once more.
Just standing to the side and watching her enjoy herself was killing him.
He longed to be a part of it, to be the reason she was smiling and laughing.
The test to his control was a risk he was willing to take.
The reward was far better than any consequences that may come from being in such proximity to her.
Cameron was crossing the dance floor before Hugh or Lachlan had the chance to say anything else. It was almost as if he was entranced by the way Margo’s dress flared around her ankles. If he looked closely, he got a glimpse of the bone-white stocking that clung to her calf.
His eyes met Margo’s, and it seemed as if the lights in his peripheral vision dimmed. She was the source of radiance in the room; the reason he could see anything at all. And then she gave him a smile that felt private, just for him; and it felt like gazing at the sun.
“I would like a dance with me wife if ye’d allow me to interrupt,” Cameron said, coming to a stop an arm’s length away from Eleanor’s elbow.
Margo was already letting go of Eleanor as she said, “Gladly. I would like a drink and perhaps something sweet.”