The caller talked the dancers through the set moves once more and then the music began.
With an outrageously loud whoop Xanthe set off, immediately turning the wrong way and barging into another couple. She gave a riotous laugh, grinned at her partner and danced a few steps on the spot, humming to herself. With a slightly bewildered grin back, her partner steered her in the right direction. The couples separated then, each going in the opposite direction in a circle so that they passed their partners. It was a simple skipping step but Xanthe was throwing her arms up in the air as if she were doing the Highland Fling again.
Izzy rolled her eyes to herself and muttered, ‘Oh dear God.’
‘She certainly knows how to enjoy herself,’ said Ross, surprising her. He generally went out of his way to avoid Xanthe.
‘Do you know how to enjoy yourself?’ she asked, suddenly feeling mischievous.
He looked a little taken aback. ‘Of course, I do.’
‘Have you done much ceilidh dancing?’ She shot him a quick grin. ‘Or are you the sort that has to look down at their feet all the time?’
‘Are you implying I need to concentrate on the steps?’ There was a hint of teasing amusement in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Do you?’
She raised imperious eyebrows. ‘You’re looking at the winner of the Bute and Argyll Country Dance Championships under sixteens, seventeens and eighteens in 2007, 2008 and 2009.’
‘Impressive.’ The music stopped.
‘Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Take your partners.’
‘That’s our cue,’ said Ross, nudging her and stepping onto the dance floor, murmuring in her ear, ‘I was voted most likely to break my partner’s ankle at a ceilidh when I left school.’
Izzy spat out a laugh. ‘Now you tell me.’
‘You didn’t ask,’ he said, his eyes crinkling in that way that made butterflies stir in the bottom of her stomach.
‘Okay folks, it’s the Gay Gordons. And I warn ye, it’s going to be a fast one. You’ll be earning your drinks.’
Everyone around the room laughed as the music began and the dancers all took up their positions.
‘Ready?’ asked Ross, linking one hand with hers over one shoulder and the other in front. She straightened in readiness, trying not to dwell on the warmth of his hand holding hers or the closeness of his big, broad body.
‘Aye,’ she said. She knew the moves well but with the frequent turns and changes of direction, there were invariably collisions when people forgot to turn in time. The first set of steps was fairly decorous and Ross was much better than he’d claimed; surprisingly light on his feet and well-versed in the moves.
‘You’ve done this before,’ teased Izzy as they turned in perfect synchronicity, dancing forward for four steps before turning again.
‘I’ve had a wee bit of practice since I left school and I’m not so tongue-tied with the lassies anymore.’ His eyes twinkled as he said it. Izzy found it difficult to believe he’d ever been shy; he had such a commanding air of confidence and self-assurance about him. In her teens she’d been staunchly independent and something of a novelty among her peers as she had far more freedom than any of them. They were all impressed that she called her mum by her name and they liked coming to her home because of the lack of rules and routine. To them, it seemed perfect parenting, but Izzy knew otherwise, not that she ever let on. She’d quite enjoyed the notoriety of being the girl who could do whatever she wanted.
She twirled under his arm, suddenly nervous about the next step when they’d be face to face in a close hold. Her heart skipped when they moved smoothly into the move, Ross’s hand around her waist, the other holding her hand, and she tried hard not to stiffen and to maintain eye contact with a pleasant smile. It was ridiculously difficult to be this close when all her senses were clamouring at the touch of his fingers, the slight smell of musky man, the sight of the smooth skin over his jawline and the need to let her gaze rove over his face at will.Don’t look at his lips.Don’t look at his lips, she chanted in her head. And then, mercifully, they were back to being side by side and starting the cycle of steps over again. She eased out a breath. She could do this. It was just dancing. She loved dancing.
They skipped through another circuit of the dance floor and then the pace of the fiddle increased. The fingers of the accordion player flew over the keys as footsteps thumped on the worn, wooden floorboards. The dance steps grew faster and faster and Izzy skipped, almost breathless, her hand clutched in Ross’s. He swung her round, the heavy weight of the folds of his kilt brushing her legs, and they moved into a hold again. Dancing at a furious pace their eyes met, and suddenly it was just the two of them whirling around the floor. Everything else blurred until there was just Ross. Those blue eyes holding hers. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest and her cheeks flushed as she looked at his lips. His quirked in response and his hold on her back tightened. Neither of them spoke. Then they separated again and Izzy didn’t dare look at him. The thump, thump of her heart resounded in her chest as she tried to catch her breath, and it was almost a relief when she was back in his arms and his blue eyes settled on hers again, solemn and watchful but with that slight smile. She wasn’t imagining the spark between them. Despite the speed of the dance, their gaze held slow and steady and it was the most erotic thing Izzy had ever felt. His fingers squeezed hers, his hand flat and firm against the small of her back, as if anchoring her to him.
It was a shock when the music finally stopped and the rest of the world intruded.
She opened her mouth but the words deserted her. He seemed equally lost for words and for a moment the two of them stood there looking at each other.
‘What fun! And what a gorgeous pair you make,’ shrieked Xanthe, coming up and throwing her arms around both of them. ‘You’re both such good dancers. Especially you, Ross. A big fella like you. Who’d have thought you’d be so light on your feet? And did you see Gregory? My, he’s some dancer. I’m quite worn out. I think I need refreshment.’
Ross tightened his jaw and turned to her. ‘Would you like a drink, Xanthe?’
She beamed up at him. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
Izzy shook her head at her mother’s blithe assumption that Ross should pay for her drink and the sudden frostiness on his face. ‘You do know it’s the twenty-first century and women are quite capable of buying their own drinks,’ she said sternly to her mother. She touched Ross’s arm. ‘I’ll get them.’
With a charming smile completely at odds with his earlier expression, he said, ‘It would be my pleasure. I’m in need of a drink myself after all that’ – there was the most infinitesimal pause – ‘excitement.’ His eyes met Izzy’s again and his gaze softened.
‘I’ll have a G&T and don’t let them drown it with the tonic,’ Xanthe said, oblivious to the tension between them.
