“Nervous?” he asked.
She forced a laugh. “Of course nae.”
He extended a hand. “Are we dancing, then?”
Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. “Aye. Let’s dance.”
The two of them paused to tie their masks over their eyes before moving to the dance floor. It would be easier to go unrecognized.
He still held her hand, their palms pressed together, his fingers laced through hers. She had expected it to feel unpleasant, had braced herself to endure it.
But it wasn’t unpleasant. His grip remained gentle but not weak, and really, it was convenient to have him pulling her gently through the crowd.
They reached the dance floor and turned to face each other.
“I really am terrible at this,” he confessed. “What dance is this? A jig?”
“Aye,” she laughed. “Ye ken how to dance a jig, do ye nae?”
“Daenae count on it. And I’ll tell ye now, I willnae be responsible for how many times I tread on yer toes.”
“Tell ye what,” she responded sweetly. “Every time ye tread on me toes, I’ll kick ye in the shin. Ye’ll learn to pick up yer feet, I’m sure.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Goodness, ye are sharp. Careful ye daenae cut yerself on that blade of a tongue.”
“Oh, I prefer to cut others.”
A slow smile crept onto his face, only to be hastily banished, as if he remembered that this was a serious occasion.
The music blared, and the dancers began to spin.
He really wasnota good dancer, stumbling through the steps and making her laugh. His stamina, however, was unmatched. He danced reel after reel with her, laughing when she trod on her own hem and stumbled right off the dance floor.
“Careful, careful!” he cried, hurrying after her. She righted herself, breathless with laughter.
“I am sorry,” she gasped. “I’m usually more graceful.”
“And I’m usually more serious. Me men will be laughing at me, capering around on a dance floor.” He grimaced. “Shall we take a break? I’m gagging for a wee sip of cider.”
She smiled up at him, still breathless.
Maybe he’s nae as bad as I thought.
“I could fetch some for us,” she offered.
His gaze locked onto hers and held, intensifying. It became harder to breathe. Had he moved closer to her, or had she moved closer to him? Perhaps?—
Skye blinked, frowning. “Wait. Do ye hear that?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Hear what?”
“A wee meow. Like a cat or a kitten.”
“I didnae hear anything.”
She turned, peering into the dark undergrowth.
Dark? When did it get dark? Have we been here for hours already?
“There’s something in there,” she decided. “I’m going to look.”
Evander heaved a long-suffering sigh and stepped beside her. “Nae alone, ye arenae. Come on, lass. Lead the way.”
Pausing to smile up at him, she stepped off the path.
