The tension in the air eased; Neil felt it in the way shoulders relaxed and lips curled into small, tentative smiles.
Kristen lifted her chin. “So I ask ye, let us celebrate, nae question. This is a new start for the clan.” She turned to him, her eyes twinkling. “Will ye dance with me, me Laird?”
For a heartbeat, Neil did not move. He looked at her hand, the open offer, the blue of her dress that made her seem like a calm stretch of the lake, the steadiness on her face after days that had not been steady at all.
Around them, the hall held its breath.
He took her hand, and the musicians struck a slow tune, bows drawing a gentle line into the air, drums answering with a pulse the hall could breathe with.
Laughter crept back to the edges. A child clapped in the wrong place and made three elders smile. Two old men tapped their feet and nodded in time, relieved to be told how to feel.
Neil led Kristen onto the dance floor. Her palm warmed under his. His hand settled on her waist and found the shape it had already learned. They turned once.
The torches threw soft light on her hair, and she moved as if the space had always been hers, light and certain. Her skirt brushed his knees, her breath steadying where his own had grown uneven.
The guests watched, but their stares did not prick the way they usually did.
Neil heard the slide of leather soles, the low thrum of the drum, and the contented note a piper hummed as he waited for his entry. More importantly, he heard Kristen’s breathing blend with the music.
They passed the fireplace and turned again. Her fingers slid a fraction up his shoulder. He felt the press, and felt inside it the message she had given the hall.
Celebrate.Begin again.
He let his hand span her back, respectful and firm, and guided her through the dance with a care that told a different truth than his words had. Near the far wall, a woman dabbed at her eyes, and near the door, two guards stood straighter, relieved to see a pattern they knew.
The clan’s heart loosened by degrees, one breath at a time. He could feel it in the air, in the music, in the scent of woodsmoke and honey.
He bent to Kristen’s ear again, close enough that the world narrowed to torchlight and skin and the clean scent of lavender that clung to her hair.
“I have missed ye,” he whispered. It took him this particular moment to realize it, and he wanted her to know.
Her breath caught, quick and small, just enough for him to notice, and the slow tune carried them while the cèilidh gathered itself again, brighter for it.
The music swirled through the hall, a steady ribbon of fiddles and drums, and Kristen let him guide her into the turn. His palm rested warm and certain on her back, and his other hand held hers, rough from training but still tender. The crowd parted for them and closed again.
She forced herself to look at him and not at the eyes drinking them in.
“So ye’re done avoiding me?” she asked as lightly as she could manage. Her face was calm, but her heart was not.
A crease touched his brow. “Nay,” he said in a voice so quiet she felt it more than heard it. “Because ye’re nae done confusing me.”
His fingers slid a fraction down her back, not enough for the crowd to notice but enough for her breath to catch.
It should have stung.
It did not.
The ache it woke was far more dangerous, a pull that wanted to melt her into him and forget the few days he had stayed away. She had always thought he was the confusing one, and now, she started to wonder if he felt the same way about her.
They turned again, the slow music asking for little more than balance and nearness. His body knew the pattern, and so did hers. Her skirt swished, brushing his knee with every pass.
She tried to focus on the steps but failed. She was aware only of the heat of his body and the steady weight of his gaze. Laughter rose near the fireplace as the piper tested a brighter run and let it fall back into the tune.
“So, tell me something,” Neil said.
Her eyes locked on his. “What?”
He tilted his head toward the hall. “How did ye do that?” he murmured. “Turn them in a breath?”
