He angles close again, and this time, I meet him halfway. Our faces are so close. And his hand—it’s still on my chin.
“I…um.” I forget what I was saying.
I lock my eyes with his. His steady, gray gaze is an anchor, hauling me back into the moment.
Finally, I manage, “I mean, that wasHamish.”
Callum’s mouth quirks. “Forget Hamish. He’s naught but wind and noise.”
“But not much in the way of hair, right?”
Callum staggers back as a laugh cracks from him.
My chest expands, stupidly pleased to be the source of that sound, and for a second, I’m bummed at the space between us.
But then he’s facing me. His palm cups my arm. He strokes up and down as he leans down again to whisper in my ear. “The next dance is ‘Strip the Willow.’ ’Tis always the last dance at a cèilidh.”
Nerves shoot through me, but he just grins. From across the clearing, the piper lets out a bright, keening note. Callum takes both my hands and walks backward a few steps, pulling me with him.
Pulling me closer.
His eyes say,You’ve got this…I’ve got you.
As the song kicks to life, led by the trill of fiddles and the deep thump of a drum, Callum arranges me into place. Stillfacing me, he takes my hands, crossing them one over the other, forming an X between us.
Then he starts to spin us.
The music picks up, and we spin faster. Around and around, keeping time. I laugh, giddy, like I’m being tickled from the inside.
Callum looks so pleased with himself. Like he’s been worried about me, worried about this, and now he can finally grin with relief. He might be an indomitable young warrior, but his feelings aren’t quite as invincible.
His fingers squeeze mine in quick warning. The steps are about to change. Another quick squeeze, then he lets go.
I barely have time to register what’s happening before another dancer snatches my elbow. A man grinning so wildly I can count all the gaps in his teeth. He hooks his arm with mine, skipping in a circle.
Then he’s gone, and my elbow is hooked by another dancer. And another. And another. Like a drunken square dance with no time to think.
Then it’s Callum again. He catches me, hands firm, eyes bright with laughter.
I’m flung back into the crowd, again and again. Every time, I barely have a second to orient myself before someone spins me, but there’s never a chance to worry, because whenever I’m let go, another dancer catches me.
And each time the pattern circles back, it’s always Callum waiting for me. Until suddenly, something shifts. The song must be nearing its end. There’s such quiet intent in his expression now.
The way he looks down at me, it feels like it’s just the two of us out here.
Hamish smiled with his teeth and not his eyes. ButCallum is the opposite—his eyes are smiling, even as his mouth stays strangely serious.
Then the moment is gone, and the music kicks into a faster beat. Callum quirks his lips like he’s about to spring an epic surprise.
The faster the song gets, the faster he spins me, until my belly aches from laughing and my feet barely touch the ground.
Momentum pulls us closer. We’re spinning, but touching too. His chest, solid and warm, brushes mine with every rotation. The heat of his body radiates along the front of mine. It makes me feel like I might never be cold again.
The music stops, and joyful chaos erupts. Everyone claps, cheering, but…I can’t. I can’t let go of Callum.
His chest heaves with panting laughter, his breath warm against my temple. I pretend to be dizzy, like I need him to steady me, but really, I just don’t want to untangle our hands. Or our arms. Oranything.
I don’t want to move, and he doesn’t either. But finally, reluctantly, he steps back. He looks proud as he strides off the lawn, his arm still looped through mine. I’m not the only one who notices. A man shouts something good-natured but unintelligible as we pass.
