Mhairi entered, looking nervous but determined. She'd changed into one of her new dresses, the deep blue one that made hereyes look like storm clouds. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and Alpin had to force himself to focus.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be." She looked around at the rearranged furniture. "Where's the music?"
"We dinnae need music yet. First, I need tae teach ye the basic steps." He moved to the center of the cleared space and held out his hand. "Come here."
Mhairi crossed to him slowly, placing her hand in his. The contact sent warmth spreading up his arm.
"Now," Alpin said, keeping his voice steady with effort. "Put yer other hand on me shoulder."
She did, and he settled his free hand at her waist. The position brought them close—closer than they'd been since that night on the battlements.
"The first thing ye need tae ken," Alpin said, "is that a good dance is all about the man makin’ the woman look good. That means I lead, ye follow, and if either of us makes a mistake, I take the blame."
"That daesnae seem fair."
"That's the rule. Which means all ye have tae dae is relax and trust me." He smiled down at her. "And honestly, that shouldnae be much trouble considerin’ how beautiful ye are. Ye could trip over me feet the entire time and everyone would still be lookine at ye instead of the steps."
Mhairi's cheeks flushed. "Ye cannae just say things like that."
"Why nae? It's true." He began moving slowly, guiding her through the basic pattern. "Step back with yer right foot... good... now tae the side... and taegether. See? Ye're already daein’ it."
"Because ye're leadin’."
"Exactly. That's the point." He continued the pattern, gradually building speed. "Dancin’ is a conversation. I suggest movement, ye respond. Back and forth, like we're tellin’ a story without words."
"What kind of story?"
"Any kind ye want." Alpin spun her gently, then brought her back against him. "A story about a brave lass who survived something terrible. About a laird who found her when she needed savin’. About two people learnin’ tae trust each other."
Mhairi's eyes had gone soft. "That's a good story."
"It's the best one I ken."
They danced in silence for a few moments, and Alpin was pleased to see that Mhairi was relaxing into the movement, letting him guide her without overthinking each step.
"Can I ask ye somethin’?" she said quietly.
"Anythin’."
Her hand moved from his shoulder to his face, fingers tracing the jagged scar that ran from temple to cheek. "How did ye get this?"
Alpin's steps faltered slightly. "A raid. When I was nineteen."
"The same one that..." She didn't finish, but he knew what she was asking.
"Nay. Different raid. Different enemy." His jaw tightened at the memory. "A rival clan thought we were weak after me faither died. They were wrong, but didnae find out before they got close enough tae leave their mark."
"Daes it hurt?"
"Nae anymore. Just reminds me tae be more careful."
Mhairi's fingers were still on his face, gentle and curious. "I think it makes ye look dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Alpin's voice had gone lower, rougher.
"Aye. Like someone who's fought and survived. Like someone strong enough tae protect the people he cares about."
