“Ye’ll have to hurry to catch up now I’ve started,” Arran fired back. Gregory flashed him a grin.
“Aye, I’ll get to it just as soon as I can.”
Gregory laughed with delight, and, soon enough, they had rung the bells in the Keep and the surrounding villages to call in all the townsfolk to celebrate. Over the next hour or so, the news spread through the land, starting with the villages closest, and soon reaching out to the towns that surrounded them, that there was an heir born to Arran and Amelia. People began to arrive at the Keep in small groups—a handful here, one or two making their way on horseback there—and soon, there were at least a hundred people filling out the great hall. Several of them had brought instruments, and, in no time, the place was filled with music.
“Oh, I’ll have to get to cooking something,” Mairead fretted to Mary. “Could you check on yer sister? Make sure there’s nothing she needs?”
“Of course,” Mary assured her.
Mary went upstairs to check on Amelia again, only to find her slumbering peacefully, her newborn in a small crib beside the bed. Mary stole a glance down at her nephew, now sleeping serenely where he was swaddled in cloth. She planted a gentle kiss against his impossibly small head, and then slipped downstairs again to join the gathering that was fast filling up the Keep.
Arran was already lively with excitement, telling anyone that he could find that he had a son—an heir, no less. It seemed as though he’d not be happy until everyone in the land knew of his newborn, and Mary couldn’t help but smile, seeing his joy. Her sister deserved someone like him, someone who’d share in the thrill of this as deeply as he did.
As she moved through the crowd, she tried to fight that feeling of loneliness that often arose when she wasn’t around hersister. Usually, she had Amelia to accompany her at these kinds of events, but her dear sister needed all the rest she could get after what she had just done. She could not blame her for leaving her alone, even if Mary herself knew nobody in this place.
She made her way to the large table at the end of the hall, which was already laden with food—most of it, it seemed, offerings from townsfolk who were glad to share in the happy tidings of a new heir. She poured herself a generous flagon of ale, and took a long sip, as she cast her gaze back to the crowd.
That, of course, was when she saw him.
At first, she blinked, thinking for a moment that she must have imagined him. After all this time, all those months, all those nights that she had spent tossing and turning and wondering if he even remembered her, it was almost as though the sheer intensity of her thought must have brought him to her, some mirage from her stress-addled mind.
Yet, after she blinked, he was still there.
The man she had seen that night. The man she had tried to forget. His blue eyes blazing into her, his dark hair reaching in curls to his sharp jaw, the rough cloak still wrapped around his shoulders, as though he could not imagine looking at anyone else at all. The room was full of people, but he was looking only at her.
And she was only looking at him. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she tore her gaze away from him.
Because staring at him seemed dangerous, in ways she couldn’t even imagine.
2
Kiernan noticed her the moment she stepped into the room. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on the floor, and her body was ridden with tension, almost as though she were waiting for something to happen. She dipped her head low, letting her long, blonde hair fall into her face, the simple brown dress she was wearing falling to her feet, as though it weren’t made for her. But those blue eyes, as deep as the ocean, they couldn’t have belonged to anyone else as she looked up at him.
As though she were waiting for him.
When she looked over at him, he grinned, and lifted his drink to her in greeting. She looked away at once, as though she could scarcely stand to look at him for too long.
Beside him, a small group of girls were chatting among themselves, and he noticed one shooting a look in his direction. After a few more words to her friends, she finally forced herself forward, gazing up at him, hopefully.
“May I… may I dance with you, my Laird?”
“Aye, of course you may,” he replied, flashing her a smile. If the blonde girl was going to keep her distance, then he would not pass up the chance to dance with someone else. Perhaps whenshe saw him dancing with another girl, she’d find the nerve to make her own move.
Kiernan took his new partner out on the floor, and, as they joined in a strip-the-willow line, he noticed the blonde girl had done the same. She was standing opposite a young man, who was staring at her with naked hope in his eyes. Kiernan pushed down a flush of jealousy as they came together to spin in the center, before they moved off down the line. The sight of his hand on her waist, even for the barest moment, raised his hackles.
But she had noticed him, too, and he made sure he gave her something to notice. He drew his dance partner closer than he needed to, allowing his hand to skim the small of her back, her hair to brush over his face as she moved, though, each time she did, he caught a snatch of sight of the blonde girl watching him, a slight furrow in her brow. Each time he caught her looking, she would tear her gaze away at once, as though she didn’t want to be caught paying him so much attention.
He grinned. It was working.
As she danced, it struck him that she seemed to be dancing for him; not for her partner, but to draw his attention back to her, even as he parsed out his steps with his new partner. Even when her gaze was not on him, she seemed to be drawn by him, her body shifting to make sure he could see her, her hair flying where he could catch sight of it out of the corner of his eye.
When the dance was done, she retreated to a table for something to eat. Her partner, the boy, tried to speak to her, but she seemed scarcely able to keep the conversation going. Kiernan turned his back on her to find a drink, and, as he moved, he was sure he could feel her gaze burning into the back of his head, doing everything she could to make him turn back to look at her. And he would, but first, he had to make her crave his closeness so eagerly that she’d do anything to taste it again.
But if she thought for a moment that he was going to pass up the chance to get close to her, after so long, she was wrong.
He moved through the crowd with ease. It parted before him, people giving him plenty of space to make his way across the room. He supposed, for once, his reputation had served him well; nobody here wanted to be the one to stand in his way when he had somewhere to go.
Finally, he reached her side. She couldn’t so much as look up at him, and he paused for a long moment.
