A deep and abiding affection filled Arran’s chest. It was more powerful than attraction or desire and gave him a longing he’d never known before.
“Eleanor.” Mrs. Ferguson approached with a hearty smile. She’d been to their home just after supper, when she’d fed Miriam. “I wondered if you’d come tonight.”
Arran was both relieved and disappointed at the interruption.
The country dance ended, and the couples clapped their hearty approval. Many of them spoke in Gaelic tonight, their love of the old country flowing freely.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Eleanor smiled up at Arran, her brown eyes filled with appreciation.
His heart made a funny leap, and he knew, if he wasn’t careful, his well-guarded feelings would start to grow again under the light of her attention.
“Do you like to dance?” Mrs. Ferguson asked Eleanor.
“Very much.”
“Good.” Mrs. Ferguson turned and caught her husband’s eye. She motioned him over.
Angus Ferguson was a giant of a man, but he was jolly and always had a smile on his face. He approached with laughter in his eyes.
“Angus, my love.” Mrs. Ferguson wrapped her arm around her husband’s elbow. “Ask Miss Eleanor to dance, will you?”
The next song, a Scottish reel, began to play.
“Of course I will.” Angus grinned and extended a meaty hand to Eleanor. “Will you dance a reel with me, lass?”
With shining eyes, Eleanor let Arran go and took Mr. Ferguson’s hand. “I would be honored.”
“Good!” Angus said and led her onto the dance floor.
Though Arran was pleased that Eleanor had been taken away by one of the Highlanders, he couldn’t ignore his disappointment that she was in another man’s arms. He turned to Mrs. Ferguson, wanting to distract himself. “Will you dance with me?”
“Aye. But only if you’re a good dancer.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He led her to the middle of the room, and they joined Eleanor and Mr. Ferguson in a reel-of-four. They would stay in the same group of four throughoutthe dance, weaving around one another, crossing partners, and dancing in time to the music.
As the bagpipes played, they began to dance. Arran bowed to Mrs. Ferguson, while she curtsied. Behind Arran, Eleanor stood facing Mr. Ferguson and they bowed and curtsied, as well. Arran noticed the others watching Eleanor dance with Mr. Ferguson. He hoped their respect for the gregarious Highlander would sway their opinion of her.
Eleanor’s eyes sparkled and her mouth curved up in a smile as they danced the reel. Though she didn’t know the dance, she did her best to keep up with Angus. When she made a mistake, she laughed and tried again. It was hard to take his eyes off her, so Arran didn’t even try. Most of the single men in the room were having the same problem.
When the reel was over, Sean Campbell approached and asked Eleanor for the next dance. She willingly obliged, and soon, she was whisked away. Smiling an apology at Arran as she went.
He could only admire her from a distance as she was passed from one dance partner to the other, smiling and breathless as she moved around the hall.
Finally, an hour later, he found himself beside her once again.
Her eyes glowed and her cheeks were filled with color.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
The musicians began a waltz, and Arran was afraid if he didn’t act soon, he’d miss the chance to dance with her.
“May I have this dance?” he asked her above the noise of the bagpipes.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned and took the hand he offered.
He led her onto the dance floor, his heart pounding a little faster at the idea of holding her in his arms again. Slowly, he slipped his right hand around her tiny waist, drawing her close as he captured her right hand in his left. It was just as much anhonor to dance with Eleanor tonight as it had been at St. Mary’s Isle. And just like before, every nerve in his body thrummed with awareness of her. For a heartbeat, he could do nothing but look into her eyes.
In moments like this, he almost felt as if he was dreaming. All those years of yearning for her across the ocean. It didn’t feel real that she was with him in the wilds of North America, in his arms again.
