“How I’m going to die,” Dallan replied.
“What have we got so far?”
“Death by thorn whilst running in the woods,” Diarmid told him, “but I think he may actually just trip and fall.”
Finn took a swig of ale, letting himself enjoy a hard-earned moment of peace amongst friends. After the feast in the hall, the celebration had moved to the hilltop just outside the walls of the keep. Bonfires blazed, creating pockets of flickering light that illuminated much of the area. Of course, there were still shadows for folks who wished more privacy. The villagers from the settlement at the base of the hill had all been invited to share in the festivities, though Finn guessed in part it was to get more women attending as dance partners.
Tables with food and barrels of wine and ale sat waiting for guests. A fiddler and bodhrán player had come from the village. The steady drumbeat lent order to the wandering fiddle, delighting guests with lively, lilting melodies suited for dancing. The center of the field had become a sea of movement—swirling colorful skirts, ribbons, and flowers spun round and round as the dancers laughed and clapped.
A pang of regret struck Finn as he watched them. Lord, how he wanted to dance with Eva. He hadn’t seen her since they moved out to the field, though she’d certainly been at dinner. Wearing the cream dress again.
Forget a thorn, that woman was going to be what killed him. Did she not know how she tormented him?
“Do you dance, Ostman?” Diarmid asked.
Finn turned to him, pulling his gaze away from the revelry before him. “No.”
Dallan and Conan both looked at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
“Surely you must,” Conan challenged. “Everyone dances, and you clearly have a love of music.”
Conan sounded like Ethlinn. How many times had she said the same? Finn rounded on him. “I don’t like to dance and I’m not particularly gifted at it, either.”
Dallan smacked him on the back. “I do believe one may beget the other there, my friend.”
Finn grimaced. “Not all of us weretrainedto dance as part of our education. I had more important matters to tend to.”
“Like learning to play the harp and recite poetry?” Dallan countered. “Yes, I see where your rough upbringing in the back country wouldn’t allow for such noble endeavors as dancing.”
“Like tending the fields and minding the stable, more like,” Finn replied. Dallan wasn’t wrong, but Finn truly had never enjoyed dancing. He’d always preferred to play the music.
For Eva, though, he would have made an exception.
“Those village lads seem to be doing just fine,” Diarmid nodded toward the dancers.
Finn glanced casually in their direction, contemplating his next defense, when the flash of a cream gown in the firelight caught his eye.
Eva stood in the glow of one of the bonfires, halfway around the field from Finn. Her hair fell about her shoulders. A smile brighter than the fires lit her beautiful face. Just seeing her warmed Finn’s heart; her smile made it all the better.
Finn’s enjoyment proved short-lived, however.
Some tall, confident, golden-haired farmhand strolled over to Eva, making a show of bowing and offering his hand. He didn’t truly believe she would…
Gods, she was off to dance with the fool.
“Saints, Finn, we were only teasing.”
“What?” Finn looked back to his companions. He didn’t even know who’d spoken. All he knew was that Eva danced, this very moment, with some other man.
His attention returned to the field, where she twirled and laughed as the man swung her about. In the cream dress.
“You look ready to charge to battle.” Dallan chuckled, stepping in front of Finn to demand his attention.
And block his view of Eva.
Finn stepped to the right so that he could keep one eye on the bold fellow.
“Maybe he’s upset so many folk actually enjoy dancing,” Diarmid prodded far too happily.
