“So, you have never danced?”
“Emma—”
“Never ever?”
He shrugged. “Nae many chances to dance when ye are on a ship, lassie.”
Her expression softened. “And ye have been on land for a month or two. Ye have yet to try?”
He cleared his throat, fighting back a blush. “I ken how seriously ye English take yer dances.”
“Yes. We do take them seriously,” she responded, the mischievous edge to her voice more present than ever.
He made a small sound in answer and took the chair that offered the best line to the dance floor. He liked to see the room from angles. Tonight, his eyes kept returning to the one point that mattered.
“Well, Iwantto dance, Logan. What do we do?” she asked, her hands resting on her hips.
Logan opened his mouth to speak, but David approached at that moment and bowed.
“Me Laird.” He kept his eyes on Logan for the courtesy, then on Emma for the ask.“If I may, Lady MacLellan.”
“Wait, you can dance, David?” she asked, curious.
“I am decent,” David responded, his voice clear.
Emma glanced at Logan, as if waiting for his approval. However, the determined look on her flushed face told him that she would not take no for an answer.
He hesitated a second too long before eventually giving a nod.“Fine.”
Emma accepted David’s hand at once, already moving closer. The pipes swelled, and he led her to the open space and spoke low as he set her hands, left to right, right to left, the simple pattern that would make a stranger feel welcome on a Highland floor.
Logan watched as she watched David’s feet and hands. David spun her once, and the hem of her skirt flared and caught the distant firelight. Her hair escaped its pins and fell around her face. She laughed when she caught the step without looking down.
Logan stayed seated. This was harmless. A man would usually offer his lady to a hall, so the hall would claim her too. David’s hand guided at the waist, then the palm, then the turn. It lingered a breath and lifted.
Perhaps it lingered.
Perhaps Logan imagined it.
Whatever it was, he hated the feeling it stirred in the pit of his stomach.
The music climbed, and she rose to meet it. She moved like she had been born into the measures. Pride shifted into something with more edge. Logan leaned forward without realizing it. A man at the next table glanced up, saw the look on his face, and turned away almost immediately.
Logan returned his gaze to the dance floor.
That is me wife.
The thought came clean and fast.
The clan saw her and saw how easily she fitted. That should have pleased him. So why did something in his chest tighten?
David positioned her for the next figure, and she went with him, light on her feet, her breath quick and her cheeks warm. She tilted her head up when he spoke and answered with a laugh.
The room felt larger and smaller at the same time.
Isobel slid into the seat beside Logan, her eyes following the dance.
“She is great,” she noted with satisfaction. “Ye could have done much worse.”
