Her father was deep in conversation further down the table, paying her no mind. The music changed to a spirited reel, and a few of the soldiers stomped their boots in rhythm, calling for the laird to join.
Davina forced a smile, raising her voice before she could stop herself. “Well, it seems me husband is nae inclined tae fulfil his role taenight,” she said, her tone threaded with jest that sounded far too brittle to her own ears. “Nay dance fer his bride at their wedding feast?”
The words landed like a pebble in a still pond. Baird’s head turned slowly toward her. His expression didn’t change, but his storm-grey eyes found hers and held them. Then, he rose from his chair. The hall quieted without him needing to say a word. He crossed the short distance to her seat with deliberate calm. When he reached her side, he leaned down just enough that only she could hear him.
“Ye need nae fear, me lady,” he murmured, his voice low enough to raise the hairs at her neck. “I’m perfectly willing tae fulfil me role as husband.”
The warmth of his breath brushed her ear. Davina’s pulse leapt wildly, and there was a betraying flutter beneath her skin. She turned her face slightly, catching the faintest scent of leather and smoke clinging to him, and felt the flush rise hot to her cheeks.
When she found her voice again, it came as barely a whisper. “I… didnae mean?—”
“I ken well with what ye meant,” he said, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. Then, straighter now, in a voice meant for the hall, he said clearly. “Lady Kincaid, will ye honor me with a dance?”
The hall erupted in cheers. Before she could think to refuse or even to breathe, his hand was at her waist, guiding her up from her seat. Her palm found his, calloused and warm, and the laughter and chatter blurred around them as he led her toward the open floor.
For a moment, she could do nothing but look at him. The man she had thought carved from stone was looking at her as though she were the only one in the room. The fiddles struck up the next tune, and Baird drew her close.
If the clan wanted a show of unity, they would have it. But as he turned her in time to the music, Davina realized there was something in the way he held her, something not born of duty at all.
And that was what frightened her most.
CHAPTER FIVE
The hall roared with approval as Baird led his new wife onto the floor. The fiddles lifted their tune, bright and insistent, and for once the music seemed louder than the whispers.
Truth be told, he hadn’t planned to dance. In fact, he hadn’t plannedanyof this. He was distraught, although he was putting on a brave face, struggling with the loss of his brother and what a murder may mean to his clan. Yet, the presence of the woman who had just unexpectedly barged into his life was somehow comforting, soothing. When Davina’s voice had carried across the table, in jest, but sharp with something deeper, he’d felt the eyes of the clan turn, and pride––but not only––had refused to let him sit idle.
If his new wife meant to provoke him, she’d succeeded.
He took her hand in his, guiding her into position. Her fingers were smaller than he’d imagined, soft against his callousedpalm. Her other hand rested uncertainly against his shoulder, and there was the slightest tremor running through it.
“Ye’ve a bold tongue, me lady,” he said under his breath. “Ye ken that?”
Her eyes met his, dark and bright all at once. “I only said what everyone was thinking, me laird. Itiscustomary fer the groom tae dance with his bride.”
“Aye,” he murmured, drawing her a little closer, “but few brides issue the invitation as a challenge.”
She tilted her chin slightly. “Perhaps few grooms need tae be goaded intae it.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “Careful, lass. Keep talking like that and folk will start thinking ye’ve got spirit.”
“Would that trouble ye?”
“Nae at all,” he said, lowering his head closer to hers as the music rose. “Though it might trouble everyone else.”
Her lips curved into an unexpected smile. She followed his lead easily enough, though he could feel the tension still trembling through her.
“Ye’re nervous,” he pointed out. “Relax.”
“I’m nae nervous,” she lied, breath catching as he spun her beneath his arm.
“Aye, and I’m the king,” he muttered, earning a startled laugh from her. The sound warmed him more than the fire blazing in the hearth.
When she came back to face him again with her cheeks flushed, he allowed a small smile to break through his usual reserve.
“There now,” he said. “Better.”
“Ye command on the dance floor as ye dae everywhere else,” she said, her eyes glinting with challenge.
