But under it all, Kieran felt the unmistakable thrum of danger.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kieran was still watching the shadows where Michael had disappeared when Lydia tugged lightly on his sleeve. Her touch startled him, just for a moment, and he looked down to find her gazing up at him with a small, careful smile.
“Would ye dance with me, Kieran?”
He blinked, confusion settling around him as she stared up at him expectantly, saying nothing more.
Dance. Of all the bloody times?—
The musicians had shifted into a lively Strip the Willow, the dance quick, spinning, energetic, requiring not only trust and coordination but also the willingness to look like an absolute fool if one missed a step.
“I’m nae exactly in the mood for?—”
“Then I’ll find Michael,” she said sweetly, folding her hands behind her back. “He enjoys dancin’, ye ken.”
Kieran felt his entire chest heat with a flare of jealousy that he had no right feeling. His best friend might be a rascal, chasing women left and right, but he wouldn’t touch his own wife.
Still, that didn’t mean he would give him the opportunity to even think about it.
“Och, he does, does he?” he asked, irritation tinting his tone.
“Aye,” Lydia said with infuriating innocence, as if she didn’t know precisely what she was doing.
Kieran narrowed his eyes at her. She was teasing him, comfortably and boldly, as though they hadn’t spent weeks trying not to look too long at each other.
And damn him, it was working.
“Ye’re manipulative,” he said.
“And yet,” she said, stepping backward toward the dance floor with a playful lift of her chin, “ye’re followin’.”
He was; of course, he was. He stood no chance against her.
Kieran knew he shouldn’t. Every instinct inside him screamed at him to stay alert, keep watch, keep Lydia close but not distracted. Danger still lurked in the hall; Sebastian’s smile still crawled under his skin.
But the sight of Lydia—her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her skirts swinging around her as she moved—pulled him forward like a rope around his ribs.
“Fine,” he said under his breath. “One dance.”
Her answering grin soaked into him like sunlight.
When they stepped into the cleared center of the hall, the clan erupted in cheers, some good-natured and some teasing. Couples lined up for the reel, and Kieran took Lydia’s hand, marveling at how perfectly her fingers fit against his. Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but think she was made just for him—he perfect temptation.
And when the music began, they moved as if they were one.
Kieran spun her beneath his arm, her golden hair catching the firelight in a halo. She laughed, and for a moment he forgot every worry. Her laughter had been rare, precious these days, and he wished he could somehow keep it with him forever, tucked away in a deep corner of his mind.
Every touch between them sent a new wave of want through Kieran. Every glance they shared forced his heart to beat faster,the blood rushing to his ears. Even as they were surrounded by other people, he had eyes only for her, his gaze never straying.
And his mind kept bringing back the memory of the intimate moments they had shared together—Lydia sprawled out underneath him, letting him pleasure her. Ever since, he had not touched her again, as they had been so careful, so tense with each other, even if he had promised her that he would give her plenty of practice. But now that she had laughed with him, now that they had shared cups of ale and wine, now that they were dancing as if nothing had happened, he couldn’t think of a better way for the night to end.
Desire coursed through him, sharp and warm. He had half a mind to cut the feast short for them, to let everyone else do as they pleased, to dance and eat and drink until dawn, while he and Lydia retired to their chambers early. He had half a mind to abandon all thoughts for a feast, but of course, that was far from wise. They still had guests to entertain; they still had to be the proper hosts, keeping everyone joyous.
It would have to wait, but Kieran could be patient. He could bide his time, tease Lydia throughout the night and have her eager and desperate for him, and when the time would come, she would beg for him to pleasure her again.
When she returned to him, breathless, her hands found his shoulders with surprising familiarity.
