“Why don’t ye ask him to dance?” she suggested, relieved to focus on something else besides Ailean.
Carrie flushed. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Lasses ask lads to dance all the time … there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Carrie’s lips thinned as she shook her head. Despite her confidence and ease among friends, she seemed loath to let Rowan know she liked him.
“Go on,” Fiona urged gently. “He seems like a good-natured lad … I’m sure he won’t mind if a bonnie lass approaches him.”
Carrie’s blush deepened, and she shot another nervous glance across the crowd—past where Tay the rat-catcher helped himself to four honey cakes, one of which he fed to his terrier. “Maybe I won’t have to,” she murmured. “They’re coming this way.”
Fiona followed her gaze. There he was—Ailean, heading straight toward her, Rowan walking at his side.
Shite.Fiona hurriedly wiped at the honey on her cheek.
She knew, as nerves fluttered beneath her ribs, that this was not an evening when she should be anywhere near the laird’s son.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
8: FLOWERS IN HER HAIR
“YE ARE BOTH looking bonnie this eve,” Ailean called out as he drew near. “Nymphs with flowers in their hair.”
“Ever honey-tongued,” Carrie said under her breath.
Fiona harrumphed.Indeed. Even so, she resisted the urge to reach up and adjust the crown of creamy white hawthorn blossoms. Like her friend, she knew that compliments slid too easily from this man’s mouth. And yet, she couldn’t help but warm under them.
Her defenses were crumbling, and she couldn’t seem to shore them up.
“How is the tapestry coming along, Mistress Fiona?” Rowan asked, flashing her a warm smile.
“Very well, thank ye,” she replied, smiling back. Rowan was always so polite and attentive whenever their paths crossed. “I’m enjoying seeing it take shape.”
“Will we be able to have a sneak peek at it?”
“What’s this, Rowan?” Ailean jabbed him with his elbow. “Developing an interest in weaving, are we? Next, I’ll catch ye embroidering pillowcases.”
His friend blushed at this, cutting him a glower. “I’m just showing some interest. The tapestry is important.”
“Of course, it is.” Ailean grinned.
Flashing Ailean an irritated look, Fiona focused on Rowan. “No one besides the laird and his wife is allowed to see it yet …sorry. This project will take me a year or two to complete … even with Arabella’s help.”
“So, ye shall remain at Dounarwyse a while?” Ailean asked, sobering.
She nodded, even as warmth flushed across her chest.Christ’s rood.When he focused on her, it was hard not to break into a sweat. She hoped the heat wouldn’t spread up her neck to her face. If she turned red, he’d know he flustered her. “Aye, for as long as Lady Kylie needs me.”
“How about a dance?” Rowan cut in then, the words tumbling out as he stepped closer. The blush on his cheeks had deepened, yet his gaze was intent.
Fiona stiffened. She’d thought he’d ask Carrie, yet it wasn’t her he was looking at.
Cutting her friend a quick look, to find that Carrie’s expression had now shuttered, Fiona then noted that Ailean’s brow had furrowed. He didn’t appreciate his friend’s bold move.
Relief fluttered up then. It was an opportunity to escape Ailean’s inexorable pull, and she’d take it.
“Come on then,” she said brightly, putting her cup and half-eaten honey cake down on a tree stump behind her. “This song is one of my favorites.”
Grinning, Rowan took her by the hand and led her away, into the swirling melee of dancers.
