Maddie stood close to the bonfire, hugging her shawl tight about her shoulders and watching -couples dance to the music Grant supplied. Judging by the way the men and ladies queued up, the reel didn’t seem too different from a traditional English country dance.
As the dancers queued up for a new dance, Callum appeared at her side. “Would you like to join in?”
“Oh, no,” she said without thinking.
“Ah. I see. Very well, then.”
Something in his disappointed demeanor sparked a realization. She’d been so caught in worrying about herself, she’d misunderstood. Callum hadn’t been asking whether or not she enjoyed dancing. He’d been asking her to dance.
With him.
And she’d refused him with one word and a shudder.
Really, Maddie.
“Callum, wait!” She reached out to catch him before he could disappear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were asking me to dance.”
“No matter. You dinna need to explain.”
“No, I want to explain. The truth is, I’m honored to be invited to dance. It means a great deal to me. More than you could know.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
His eyes warmed with a smile, and the knot in her stomach began to loosen up. As difficult as it was going to be to walk away from Logan, leaving Lannair Castle was going to break what remained of her heart. She would miss her new friends here. So very much.
“The problem is,” she told him, “I don’t know how to dance.”
“ ’Tis nothing. The steps are not difficult.”
“Perhaps not for most, but I’ve never danced. I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at it.”
He held up his pinned, shortened sleeve. “I’m at a disadvantage myself. So if you are terrible, at least we’ll be equally matched. Shall we have a go at it anyway? ’Tis only for laughs.”
Perhaps it was the heat of the bonfire. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to disappoint the enthusiastic look in Callum’s eyes. It was possible a small part of her hoped Logan might see them and be jealous.
But most likely . . . it was just time to stop standing in the cold. Rabbie had said she’d live to see the next Beltane. But she wouldn’t be here in the Highlands. She might only have this one chance to dance a Scottish reel, and it would be a pity to waste the night on nerves and fretting.
Perhaps this was a moment to be seized.
A moment to simply be.
For whatever reason, Maddie found herself saying yes. To dancing. For the first time in her life.
And it made her immediately wonder why she hadn’t done the same years ago.
Which is not to say that it went especially well.
The dance itself was rather a disaster—-but an amusing one. The particular reel they’d joined involved a great deal of twirling, and once Maddie started spinning, she had a hard time ceasing. Add in the fact that Callum wasn’t in the best position to reach out and catch her, they resembled nothing so much as two billiard balls colliding and spinning away from each other, repeatedly.
Before long Maddie was laughing so hard that she could scarcely catch her breath. At the end of the reel, they were supposed to grab hands—-but they missed one another entirely.
She lost her balance and careened away, still twirling and laughing.
Until she collided with someone. Someone helpfully big and solid and impossible to knock over.
“Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry, truly. I—-” She looked up. Her stomach sank. “Oh. It’s you.”
Logan.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am, quite. Thank you for asking.”
Suddenly she was every bit as nervous with him as she would have been at sixteen. Who could help it?
Tonight he carried with him a new air of . . . not swagger. Swagger was nothing more than bluster arranged to mask uncertainty. Tonight, he looked confident. Protective. Ready to lead.
Lairdly, in the truest sense of the word.
Dressed in his full great kilt and a crisp ivory shirt, he also looked ready to pose for an illustration in Sir Walter Scott’s next novel.
The dance ended, and Callum came to find her. He gave Maddie a grin. “Sorry to have stolen you from her, Captain.”
“No need to apologize,” Logan replied. “Madeline belongs to herself.”
“We were just dancing,” she said.
“I saw.”
“Not very well.”
His mouth quirked. “I saw that, too.”
“Yes. Well. I’m sorry to have collided with you. It’s just so dark.”
She looked around, desperate to avoid the confusing look in his eyes. There were no other lights, anywhere. Not at the castle, not at the baile on the riverbank.
The world had collapsed to the orange--red glow of the bonfire and the vast, starry sky above.
“ ’Tis the tradition,” Callum said helpfully. “On Beltane, we douse all the fires in every home. At the end of the night, each family will take coals or a torch and relight their hearth from this bonfire. ’Tis a fresh start.”
“A fresh start. What a lovely thought.”
It helped her understand why Logan had been so determined to have the land in his ownership before Beltane—-he wanted his men and the tenants to know this was a fresh start.