Chapter 23 #2
He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to her lips, then to her eyes. Leaning against the rail, he motioned to the floor. “Doesn’t it feel like some sort of romantic mating dance?”
Scottie rested in the husky tone of Michael’s voice. “Everywhere I look, couples are kissing.”
“Each stomp of the dance is as if the man, then the woman, are demanding their individual rights, yet their hands never let go.” He propped one arm on the rail and lightly laced his fingers with hers.
“They come back together, moving in rhythm to the next station. Just like life.” He peered at her.
“I want to be down there with you, holding you in my arms.”
She accepted everything she saw in his eyes, heard in his tone, felt in his feathery touch. If this was love… “Maybe toward the end of the night?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I am on duty.”
“For me. And I say we will dance.” She cupped his clean-shaven jaw. “I’m falling fast, Michael. What are we going to do?”
He covered her hand with his, then kissed her palm. “I’m sinking deeper and deeper as well, love,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. We will.”
He hooked his arm around her waist, glanced about, then tugged her backward into a dark, cozy alcove. Propped against a hidden door, he held her flush against him and brushed a kiss against her cheek, then found her lips.
Scottie relaxed into his chest and let the kiss drift from one river of love to another as the orchestra began a waltz, the violins drawing rich bass notes from the strings.
She didn’t want to let go when he exhaled and raised his head. Propping his forehead against hers, he laughed gently, lifting her up to spin her around.
“You’re changing my world, Lady Royal.” He set her down and peered into her face.
“Michael,” she said, rising to kiss him, sensing he was hers in a way Cap never was. “Before we lose ourselves in blood-boiling passion, can we do this? Are we being realistic? Remember I promised Dad I’d return the girl who left.”
“Is that realistic? We can’t stay stuck in one place, Scottie.
In a plan we made before we knew all the world had for us.
I don’t know how we shall maneuver our situation, but we’re here now, love.
We’ve made it this far. Tonight, let’s simply be swept away in the magic and mystery of a royal ball.
Who knows, perhaps the Eye of God is watching. ”
His arm tightened about her, inviting her to curl into him. Closing her eyes, Scottie rested her head against his arm as they emerged from the cover of the alcove.
“Lady Royal?” Scottie jerked up, away from Michael, who disappeared into the space between the crystal lighting.
Hamish Fickle approached, surprisingly splendid in his tuxedo and parliament member sash.
He stopped in front of her, gave a curt bow, and smiled.
When not fighting the world, he was handsome and somehow, a little bit taller.
“We didn’t speak much at dinner last night, but I must convey the gratitude my family and I feel for what you’ve done for us. ”
“I hope you will be more kind to the Family now.”
His laugh was robust. “It does seem rather ironic, doesn’t it? I was engaging in a one-sided family feud.” A slight blush ran over his high, slightly freckled cheeks. “You heard about my conversation with Her Majesty.”
“Yes, and congratulations, Duke of Midlands. I hear she’s announcing your title and the restoration of some lands at midnight.”
“Yes, we agreed it was the perfect hour to symbolize the start of a new day, a new era, between the Blues and the Fickles,” he said.
“I woke up this morning with so many questions settled. Questions I didn’t know to ask.
Our whole family has changed. We’re gathering next weekend, and family members who have not spoken in decades are traveling from across Europe to be there.
” The duke looked away as he cleared his voice.
“The truth brought us salvation. I need to thank the Cross contingent as well. I’ve been humbled greatly by all of this. ”
“I wish you the best, Lord Midlands.” He smiled when she used his title. “Good luck to you, and I mean it.”
“One more thing, Lady Royal. I want to apologize. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused, even putting you in danger.
I’ve been boorish and unkind since you arrived on our shores, and all you wanted was to know your mum.
None of us ask for our birth rank and right, and while I was going about trying to destroy yours, you were restoring mine.
” Slowly but with ease, Hamish Fickle bent to one knee, then two.
“I am your humble servant, Lady Royal.” An honest smile lit his face.
“I’ve never understood true mercy until you. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Scottie drew Hamish into a southern gal embrace. “Grudges cost more than any of us can pay. Now use your powers for good.”
He laughed. “Understood, miss.”
“Also, buy me a pint tomorrow night at the Belly of the Beast. It’s my last night here. I fly home the day after.”
“It will be my honor. Eight o’clock?”
“Eight o’clock.”
As Hamish disappeared toward the stairs and into a swirl of dancers, Scottie searched for Michael, but Lennox guarded her back. Michael was off, swallowed up by duty somewhere in the glittering crowd.
She inhaled and pressed her hand to the bodice of her gown, the reality of the last eight weeks settling on her. Being here for Kate. Uncovering a long-buried House of Blue secret. And surprise of surprises, falling in love.
“Hey, sister of mine.” Her prince of a brother Gus strode her way, wearing his white and winning smile, a replica of Kate’s. “Come dance.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the stairs. “I just got home and you’re leaving. Should I take it personal?”
“Should I take it personal you left before I arrived?”
Laughing, he spun her onto the dance floor where one dance turned into another and another. She’d never danced nor laughed so much—even during the Scott farm’s Fourth of July square dance—in one evening.
She waltzed with her brothers, reeled with her stepfather, the kings of Brighton Kingdom and Luxembourg, and the Grand Duke from the Grand Duchy of Hessenberg—Tanner, who was married to the Grand Duchess, Regina.
At the punch table, she accepted a crystal cup of lemonade, then spying the opened doors to the portico, she rushed out, craving a gulp of fresh air.
Sneaking around the ballroom and ducking behind a gathering of men and women with port and cigars, she then kicked off her heels and skipped down the ballroom steps and raced across the soft grass and purple heather toward the original ancient pillars that once fortified a fort watching over the cliffs.
The lights and music from the ballroom chased her into the moon’s glow and the symphony of the North Sea. She leapt onto the stone base and leaned into a thick, scarred column.
With a sigh, head back, eyes closed, she tried to memorize every detail of the evening and how she truly felt like a princess. Was any of this real? Was she truly in love?
Please, don’t let me wake up six months from now, or maybe a year, straightening up from my drawing table, back aching, and wondering if all of this had only been a dream.
“Beg pardon, miss, would you care to dance?” Michael stepped onto the portico, his arms open, the moonlight in his eyes.
“What have you been doing since our alcove kiss?” Scottie moved past his hands and into his arms, locking against him and brushing her lips against his.
“Watching over you. What a jolly time you were having on the dance floor.” Michael clasped his arms about her, deepening their kiss with a breath, gently swaying to their own music. “I fell for you all over again.”
“I love you, Michael Cross.”
“Yes, well saying such a thing won’t do when I want to scold you for wandering off alone. Again.”
“It’s our thing, you know?” She roped her arms about his neck. “I run off. You come find me.”
“Do you know Lauchtenland’s legend of love?” he asked, still swaying to their private lullaby.
“I do. Why do you ask?”
“I overheard someone say that tonight, the legend of love is alive in all of Lauchtenland. The atmosphere has changed. Call me crazy, but I think it’s because the queen settled a debt with MP Fickle.”
“Tell me the legend,” she said, resting her head on his chest, never wanting to leave.
“It’s said in the north country of Lauchtenland”—he began the story with his lips against her ear—“that the sea has a song and love blooms from the earth the same as flora and fauna. It perfumes the air and touches lives in ways no one quite understands. So beware then, if you travel north to County Northton, where the wind sings through the Highcrest Mountains. Expect a bit of fairy dust on your heart. Expect to fall in love. Yes, even you, Lady Royal, Scottie O’Shay. ”
“Even you, Michael Cross.”