A long, slow moment opened up between them, and at last Creighton dragged his stare away from his cousin and down toward Nora. He lifted his eyebrows, a silent question.
She nodded back, just once. That was the reply. He grunted and extended his hand. She placed hers into it, and thought brieflythat this was the first time since the bath incident that they had touched.
Best nae to think about that.
“Very well, then,” Creighton responded, a little tartly. “But just one reel.”
“Just one reel,” Helena answered innocently. She seemed to be holding back a laugh.
Wordlessly, Creighton led Nora over to the dance floor.
“Stay close to me,” he called, over the din of chatter, laughter, and roaring music. “I’ll nae let ye get jostled.”
Nora said nothing. Hands entwined, he pulled her toward him until she could feel the heat coming off his body. Drawing in a deep breath each, they plunged into the chaos.
At once, they were swept up by the dance. The couples already on the floor spun round and round. The precise steps of the dance didn’t matter as much as keeping up with the rhythm and movement of the other dancers. Nora held onto Creighton’s broad shoulders, and any hesitation she might have felt was replaced by necessity—she needed to cling to him to avoid being knocked off her feet.
“MacCrimmon ceilidhs are always like this, I’m afraid,” he said, leaning close to her ear to avoid being overheard. “Wild, terrifying, but plenty of fun.”
“So I see,” she responded, and found that she was laughing.
“I suggest ye lift yer hem a wee bit, or somebody’ll tread on it.”
She freed one hand from his shoulders, bunching it in the fabric of her dress—which still did not match Laurie’s, as there hadn’t been time—and hauled it up a few inches. Cool air swirled around her ankles.
“Where is Laurie?” she asked.
“Gone to bed. A few minutes here was all she needed after the excitement of travelin’ today. She’s exhausted.”
Nora allowed herself a quick smile. Behind her, somebody knocked hard against her back, pushing her bodily against Creighton. The blow even made him stagger back a step or two. He shot a glare over the top of her head, growling low in his throat.
The man and woman behind them paled, mumbling apologies, and staggered back.
“Drunk already,” he muttered disapprovingly. Almost as an afterthought, he curled an arm protectively around Nora’s waist, pulling her close to him. She swallowed, letting her eyes fluttershut. This close, he smelled of horse sweat, leather, and the sweet tang of ale. The smell dizzied her.
“So, tell me,” he continued, sweeping her around in a tight circle when all the other dancers did so. “What did me aunt say to ye?”
The question took Nora by surprise. She had been focused on staying balanced, holding tight to her skirts and Creighton’s shoulders, and on avoiding tilting her head back to look up at him. Somehow, that felt very risky.
“She talked about ye,” she said at last. “She said that ye daenae plan to marry.”
Creighton’s jaw tightened. “I love me aunt, but the concept of family loyalty certainly eludes her.”
“Well, I am family now, am I nae? Sort of, at least.”
He grunted, and she could not tell whether it was in agreement or not.
“She’s right, though,” he answered at last. “I daenae plan to marry.”
Nora’s gaze moved upward on its own. Creighton was already looking down at her, his eyes focused. That muscle in his jaw still twitched, and a frown line formed between his brows. Nora felt a sudden, strong urge to reach up and press her finger against that line, smoothing it away.
“Why nae?” she asked simply.
He pursed his lips, and for a moment she thought he might not answer at all.
“It’s a distraction,” he said at last. “Ordinary men can marry if they like. In fact, I encourage it. But in me case, distraction will only endanger those around me.”
“But daenae ye need an heir?”
