The dance was a simple one, thank the saints, more walking than anything complex. But it required them to move together, her hand in his, his other hand resting lightly at her waist. She was graceful, following his movements with the natural elegance of someone trained in London ballrooms, though this was earthier, more primal than anything she would have experienced in England.
“Ye’re a natural,” he found himself saying as they turned together, and the smile that lit her face was worth every curious stare from his clansmen.
“And you’re surprisingly graceful for such a large man,” she replied, a hint of mischief in her voice. “I had expected you to stomp about like a warhorse.”
“Disappointed, are ye?”
“More like curious about where a brutish Highland warrior learned such refined steps.”
His lips twitched despite himself. “Brutish, am I?”
“Well, you did threaten to send me back to England not three days ago,” she pointed out as they moved through the figures. “That hardly qualifies as refined behavior.”
“I never threatened to throw ye anywhere. I said Ishouldsend ye back. There’s a difference.”
“Ah, yes, the distinction between wanting to be rid of me and actually doing it. How foolish of me to confuse the two.”
Her dry tone made several nearby dancers smile, and Declan found himself fighting back a grin. “Ye have a sharp tongue, lass.”
“Only when provoked by stubborn Highland lairds who think they can manage people like chess pieces.”
“And what would ye ken about chess?”
“Enough to recognize when I’m being maneuvered,” she replied smoothly as he spun her. “Though I must admit, you’re rather more skilled at it than I anticipated.”
“At chess?”
“At dancing. At conversation. At pretending you don’t find this entire evening as overwhelming as I do.”
The honesty in her voice caught him off guard. “What makes ye think I’m overwhelmed by anythin’, lass?”
“Because your jaw has been clenched since we started, and you keep glancing toward the exit as if planning an escape route.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Well then, it’s fortunate for both of us that Highland honor prevents you from abandoning your betrothed mid-dance.”
Declan shouldn’t have enjoyed the sound of the word ‘betrothed’ from her lips so much, so he thought this was a good time to change the topic. “How do ye like the dance?”
“It’s wonderful,” she breathed, her earlier nervousness forgotten in the joy of movement and music. “So much more alive than English country dances. Though considerably more dangerous, given my partner’s reputation for unpredictability.”
“Unpredictable, now?”
“One moment you say youshouldship me back to London, the next you’re proving you can be quite charming when you set your mind to it. Yes, I’d call that unpredictable.”
The music swelled around them, and for a moment, Declan forgot about clan politics and marriage alliances. “Maybe ye bring out the worst in me, lass.”
“Or perhaps the best,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. “The question is, which one am I going to marry?”
Thankfully, he didn’t have to reply. The music ended, and scattered applause broke the spell. Francesca curtsied gracefully while Declan bowed, but he was acutely aware that something had shifted between them. The way she looked at him now, breathless and smiling, made his chest tight with feelings he couldn’t name.
“That was magical,” Eloise declared as they returned to the table, clapping her hands together. “You looked like you belonged together.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
Declan tried to ignore the way Francesca’s blush deepened at the child’s innocent observation. Perhaps they did look like they belonged together. The question was whether that was a blessing or a curse.
“Did we now?” Declan remarked dryly.
