“Ack, it’s tradition, Graham,” his uncle interrupted as the harps, bagpipes, and flutes all began to play.
The laird joined Graham and Hope’s hands before him, as some sort of show or display. Graham reluctantly pulled her towards him, as his other hand went to her waist. Several other couples hurriedly joined them as they began a simple waltz-like dance that Hope had never seen before.
“I don’t know this dance,” she said worriedly.
“No one does, except the McTavish Clan,” he said, grasping her tight. “It’s a clan tradition. Just hold onto me and follow my lead. It’s fairly simple.”
“Oh,” Hope said. “Do all clans have a special betrothal dance?”
“No, but the McTavishes have always been a bit more willing to embarrass themselves than others.”
His words caught Hope’s attention.
“Embarrass? Are you embarrassed to dance?”
“I don’t like attention,” he said as they twirled out and came back together. “Dancing, announcements. All of it. I find it a bit ridiculous.”
“You’re rather a private sort of person, aren’t you?”
He gave her a searching glance.
“Aye. Are you?”
“I suppose I am, though I’ve never given it much thought before,” she said quietly. Hope glanced from side to side, watching the other dancers. When she looked back to meet Graham’s eyes, though, she seemed nervous. “Have we made a mistake?”
The worry in her voice set his nerves on edge. He didn’t want her to fear this partnership. He held her closer, ignoring the laws of propriety as they were betrothed now, giving them more leeway, especially since the rules of propriety were always relaxed during festival time. Graham leaned down, and his mouth found her ear.
“I don’t think so,” he said softly. “Do you think we have?”
She shook her head, and a tremor went through him as she smiled cautiously.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Good.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
To Hope’s amusement and Graham’s embarrassment, rumors began swirling overnight about the circumstances of their engagement. After escorting Hope and her sisters back to Lismore Hall the night before, Hope and her sisters had stayed up late into the night discussing all that had happened.
“How did he do it?” Grace asked, her legs curled beneath her as she sat across from Hope on her bed. Faith was pacing before the fireplace, arms behind her back. Usually, Grace was more pragmatic, but something about the bonfire seemed to have captured her imagination. “Was it romantic?”
“It was different, I suppose, from how I always assumed a proposal would be.”
“How so?”
“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “I guess I always assumed it would take place indoors. In a sitting room or parlor. And the gentleman would be on bended knee.”
“He stood?” Faith asked, her brow scrunching. “The whole time?”
“Yes, but there wasn’t really an opportunity to kneel,” she said defensively before turning back to Grace. “But it was rather lovely all the same.”
Grace smiled.
“It just seems rather sudden, doesn’t it?” Faith said, coming forward. “And serendipitous.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, Lismore Hall was his ancestral home once, wasn’t it? Perhaps he’s angling to get it back.”
