Did she care for Simonbeyondthe sense of safety she felt when around him? Could she feel a similar spark of something with him?
“Shall we sit?” Simon motioned to a pair of nearby chairs, oblivious to Eilidh’s moment with Kieran. “I understand Mr. Campbell has prepared a surprise for this evening—”
“Actually, Simon, Iwouldlike to dance.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stem them. “It looks . . . invigorating.”
Simon paused and pasted a kindly smile on his face. “You know I will deny you nothing, Eilidh. Perhaps dancing with you will be all I need to enjoy the activity.”
‘Strip the Willow’ had ended and the small traditional orchestra struck up the first bars of the Circassian Circle. This particular dance was a good choice for Simon, Eilidh supposed, as each couple stayed together for the entirety of the dance and the steps were more staid.
Eilidh and Simon took their places, bowing and curtsying to one another before joining hands. As the name implied, the Circassian Circle was danced in one enormous circle, couples moving in and out, clapping and spinning in time with the music.
Simon said nothing more. For all his disdain of dancing, he did know the basic steps, easily following as Eilidh directed him where to go.
Throughout it all, he was quiet and calm, as usual.
But . . . the whole affair inspired no sparks for her. And judging by his staid expression, likely none for Simon either.
What was going on in his head? What was he thinking?
Was he upset that Eilidh had dragged him into the dance?
Was he enjoying himself regardless?
What do ye want?
She wanted toknowthe man she married.
She wanted him to knowher.
She wanted to feel thatzingof attraction. The thrill of nipping an orange from a lover’s hand or holding his gaze as his lips dipped down to hers . . .
She turned in a circle and clapped hands with the woman beside her. Simon did the same with the man beside him.
Then she turned and spun around Simon, his hand sliding into hers. His palm was warm and solid and altered her breathing not at all.
His smile appeared strained.
“Are you enjoying yourself then?” she asked.
Simon’s expression remained fixed in place. “For yourself, my dear, I would dance all night.”
They separated to clap hands with their neighbors again.
But his words left Eilidh frowning.
Simon hadn’t answered her question. He had masked how he felt and, instead, gave her the answer she wished to hear.
How was that a genuine rapport? The sort of relationship to compel people to laugh and argue and love and hold each other through a dark night of grieving a shared loss?
Truly living involves feeling. Ye cannae keep yourself numb forever. Do ye want Simon tae be the one to dry your tears and absorb the weight of your grief?
She blinked, Kieran’s words washing over her.
Briefly, she imagined it. Her memories returning, the weight of them towing her under, causing enormous upheaval . . .
Simon would . . .
Well, he would . . .
