Right next to a figure clad in a blue-and-green kilt.
He was hunched over something in his lap. Something white. Paper. The man who’d told her he never wrote anything was outside scribbling up a storm.
She hurried downstairs, huffing and puffing by the time she reached the bottom, and headed for the door.
Niall caught her on her way out. “Why such a rush, lass? Is something amiss?”
“N-no.” Of course nothing was amiss—in the midst of catching her breath, Kendra wondered for a moment just exactly what she’d been rushing out to do. Yell at Trick for not taking a nap? Or for pouring his heart out on paper? He was a grown man, entitled to do as he pleased, especially on a disturbing day like this one.
She forced a smile for her brother-in-law. “Nothing is wrong. I thought I’d just go out and take some air.”
The bagpiper was warming up discordantly, and a fiddler was busy tuning. “The dancing is about to begin,” Niall told her.
She looked around, noticing the tables and chairs had been pushed against the walls. “There’s really going to be dancing?”
“Aye, there is. Mam would have expected us to celebrate her life rather than the death that ended it.” The musicians launched into a jaunty tune, and Niall made an incongruously solemn bow. “Are you dancin’?”
She could see that he was trying very hard to keep what he considered to be the properdraidgieoutlook, although she was sure he ached deep inside. Her heart went out to him. No matter that dancing today seemed wrong to her, she dropped a curtsy and gave him the answer he was expecting.
“Are you asking?”
With a low laugh that reminded her of Trick’s, he twirled her into the center of the room.
The dance was performed by four couples in a circle, and it took all of Kendra’s concentration to follow it. Halfway through the complicated pattern, she was already breathless and realized she had little time to think on her troubles, and neither did Niall.
Perhaps dancing on a day like this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
When the tune ended, he took her by the elbow to draw her from the floor. “My father wants to talk to you and your husband,” he said conversationally.
Surprised she hadn’t lost it, she resettled the shawl on her shoulders. “He’s sleeping.”
“Patrick?”
“No, Hamish. Trick is out in the garden.”
“Ah, then it was him you were rushing out to see.” The music started again, and couples began forming a double line down the middle of the chamber. “Why do you call him Trick?” Niall asked.
“A childhood name. His father called him that.”
“But Mam didn’t.” He sighed. “So much I don’t know about my brother.”
“He doesn’t know you, either. But he’d like to, I’m sure.”
He gave her a sad, gentle smile. “He won’t be staying long enough to get to know me.”
“Not this time. But he’ll be back. I’ll make certain of it.”
“Now, that I don’t doubt.” The low laugh rang out again. “I saw you two kissing earlier, and I’d wager you could make him do anything.”
She felt her face heat. She’d never thought of herself as a woman who could persuade with kisses. With words, yes—having been raised a Chase, she could argue with the best of them. But she’d never been much of a flirt, let alone a seductress.
Pleased at the thought, she grinned. “Thank you for the dance, Niall.”
“My pleasure.” The second dance was ending, but another would start soon. “Will you do me the honor again?”
“Maybe later. I’ve a man to meet in the garden.” And hopefully persuade to open up and share himself with her…with kisses, if necessary.
Forty-Three
