A faint smile touched her mouth. “Me father thinks ye can do better.”
“Yer father thinks many dangerous things.”
“He thinks ye brood too much.”
“He iscorrect.”
“That is the first sensible thing ye have admitted all day.”
He almost smiled and checked it too late. Ava noticed, and her fingers shifted against his shoulder just enough to make him aware of every place they touched.
Around them, the room had gone still in that quiet way where people stopped speaking because they had found something more interesting to watch. Isobel continued humming, and Laird MacKenna watched over the rim of his cup.
Ciaran should have released Ava at the first turn that allowed it.
He did not.
The dance went on. Her body moved easily with his, familiar now in the ways that mattered most to him and least to anyone else in the room. He knew the shape of her waist under his hand and the scent at the side of her neck when he stood this close.
He knew how quickly memory could turn simple contact into desire, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Not here.
Not before everyone.
Ava’s gaze did not leave his. “Ye are holding me rather tightly, me Laird.”
His grip loosened a fraction and remained too firm. “Complain if ye mean it.”
“I am considering it.”
“Do so quickly.”
“And disturb yer focus? Nay, thanks.”
That drew a breath from him that was nearly a laugh and nearly something else.
Before he could fully take in the moment, a shrill voice burst from the doorway. “Get off me, ye wicked creature.”
The spell broke at once.
Bruce shot into the room in a blur of legs and delight, with Mrs. Patmore half stumbling behind him and trying to rescue the hem of her gown from his paws. He barked madly, circled once, and launched himself at the nearest person.
Ava dropped from Ciaran’s hold at once and sank to the floor just in time to catch him. “Bruce!”
The dog nearly climbed into her lap whole. He licked her chin, her hand, the front of her dress, then turned and barked at the housekeeper as though inviting her to join the game.
“He isnae aggressive,” Ava said through laughter. “He only likes people too much.”
“That is precisely the problem,” Mrs. Patmore sniffed, trying and failing to recover her dignity.
Isobel laughed openly, while MacKenna looked one breath from doing the same.
Ciaran crouched beside Ava without thinking. Bruce, delighted by more company, pushed his blunt head into Ciaran’s hand. Ciaran stroked the rough fur between the dog’s ears while Ava steadied the little beast against her dress.
For a moment, they all sat under MacKenna’s warm gaze, laughter at the table, Bruce on the floor, Ava at Ciaran’s side, the scent of supper permeating the air, and the memory of her body against his still fresh in his hands.
When the laughter faded and the evening began to settle again, Ciaran rose with the others and let the moment pass outwardly. However, it did not pass inhim.
