They joined the circle, and soon Fiona was flying across the trampled grass, the heat of the fire kissing her cheeks, the pounding of the drums and the trill of pipes pulsing through her veins.
The song ended shortly after, yet another, even more rousing, struck up, and for a short while, Fiona forgot herself.
All her life, she’d exercised control. It was why she’d taken a different path from the other lasses she grew up with. They were all wedded with bairns clinging to their skirts, but not her.She was a woman with ambition. She had talent and wanted the world to know it. What if, one day, the King of Scotland called upon her services?
However, ambition and self-control had their downsides. Sometimes, she felt as if she stood on the sidelines, watching everyone else enjoy themselves, while she slaved over a loom.
But not tonight. Right now, she was free, just a lass with flowers in her hair.
The song eventually ended, and breathing hard, Fiona slowed to a halt.
The piper halted briefly and then struck up another tune, this one even faster than the last two. Cheering and clapping ensued, and Rowan grinned. “Come on,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Let’s—”
“Give the rest of us a chance.” Ailean stepped in then, moving between them so that Rowan let go of Fiona’s hand. He then gestured to the fringes of the crowd, where Carrie stood alone, watching them. “There’s a lass over there that wishes for a dance.”
“Why don’t ye dance with her then?” Rowan replied, scowling.
Ailean bumped him with his elbow. “It’syeshe wishes to dance with, clod-head.” Not waiting for his friend’s response, he took Fiona’s hand.
When Rowan had touched her, she’d felt nothing, yet the moment Ailean’s fingers slid through hers, her pulse leaped.
Hades, this wasn’t good.
His gaze then met hers. “Ready?” A challenge glinted in his eyes, and despite that she knew better, something in Fiona made her want to answer it.
Lifting her chin, she gave him an arch look. “Are ye sure ye can keep up with me?”
His lips quirked. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
He drew her with him into the throng, and an instant later, they were caught up in the tide of dancers.
She shouldn’t be dancing with the laird’s son, shouldn’t be clinging to his hand as if her life depended on it, and yet she was doing both. Right now, there was no place she’d rather be.
Although Rowan had danced well, Ailean moved with the confidence his friend lacked. She’d never felt so safe with a man, and yet danger pulsed in her blood with every step.
Keep yer distance.
He’ll only ruin ye.
Stay away!
But she just outran each voice. Each warning.
It was just a dance. Couldn’t she, for once, just let herself go?
She was only enjoying the company of a handsome man. There was no harm in that.
Even so, when the music finally changed, and she and Ailean slipped away to the fringes of the crowd once more, she noted that he didn’t release her hand.
And she didn’t let go either.
She looked for Carrie then and eventually found her.
She and Rowan had joined the dancing. The lass’s face was flushed, her long brown hair flying like a flag as she leaped and bounced around the fire, clinging to Rowan’s hand.
“Finally,” she said, still breathing hard from the dancing. She glanced over at Ailean. His chest also rose and fell sharply. “I was hoping Rowan would ask her to dance.”
“Aye, but the lad needed a push all the same.”
