Ye ken it would be a big mistake tae dance with her, he silently warned himself.
“Och, is that so?” she asked archly as they halted by her chamber door. “Well, if I see ye dancin’ on the tables, I’ll nae worry too much about it then.”
They chuckled and stared at each other, the tension that was always between them instantly flooding the air around them. After the special day they had just shared, he did not really want to leave her at all, even though his sense of self-preservation was urging him to do so.
But his tongue once again forestalled his brain, and he found himself asking, “Shall I come and call fer ye later? We could go down tae the gathering together.”
She gave a bright smile. “That’s kind of ye, but I’m nae sure how long I’ll be gettin’ ready. ’Tis best if we meet there.” She opened her door and stepped inside. “I’ll see ye later then,” she added and shut the door.
“Aye, see ye later,” he murmured, shrugging off his disappointment as he turned and went into his own chamber next door, berating himself for feeling disappointed at all.
As he began stripping off his wet clothing, his concerns about the night ahead began to fill his mind. Even now, I can hardly keep me hands off her. How much harder is it gonnae be tonight, with the drinkin’ and music and dancin’?
When Ivy entered the hall, the high stone walls and the wooden floor were already reverberating with the sounds of music and merrymaking. The cèilidh was in full swing. The music was like a living thing, casting its powerful spell as it wound its merry way around the great hall, making feet and bodies move in time.
It thrilled her to see so many people on the dance floor. A column of couples was engaged in a lively country reel, the dancers giving their all to the relentless rhythmic beating of the drums, the melodic surge of the pipes, and soaring over them all, the beguiling song of the fiddle.
Ivy stood looking out at the other smiling guests filling the grand space, all clad in their finest apparel, talking, laughing, drinking, and dancing. The hall was bright with the warm light of myriad candles and the fires blazing in the two great hearths. The tables had been pushed back and were groaning with food and drink. The scene was a feast for the senses.
In the rush of excitement, Ivy allowed herself to be swept up by the convivial atmosphere. She had resolved to put aside her worries and enjoy herself for a few hours.
“Och, Ivy, there ye are,” said a familiar voice behind her. She turned to find Effie smiling at her, her bright blue eyes sparkling.
“Och, Effie, ye look beautiful!” Ivy burst out at once, taking in the healer’s transformation. Her long black hair, usually drawn back severely from her face during work hours, was now adorned with blue ribbons and flowed in a shining river of curls down her back. Her low-cut gown of heathery-blue tartan showed off her slender, statuesque figure.
“Thank ye, m’dear,” her friend replied, looking her up and down with obvious admiration. “Ye dinnae look too bad yersel’. In fact, I’d say the dress suits ye better than it does me. Ye’d best keep it.”
Ivy grinned. “That’s good of ye, Effie, thank ye. I’m very grateful fer the offer, but much as I love it, I couldnae deprive ye of such an expensive gown. Though I dinnae ken what I would have come in if ye hadnae been so kind as tae lend it tae me.” She smoothed the rich, crimson material that fell in graceful folds to the floor with girlish pleasure.
“I’m glad I could help. I could hardly let ye come dressed as a lad now, could I?” Effie replied, making them both laugh.
“I must admit, it makes a nice change tae dress up as a woman,” Ivy agreed.
“Well, ye look very lovely.” Effie linked her arm through hers and said, “Now, let’s go and find Magnus and get ye a drink.”
Effie steered her towards the laird’s party, where her husband was sitting talking and laughing with the laird and a group of his advisors and their families. She could not help looking around for Liam.
“If ye’re lookin’ fer Liam, he’s nae put in an appearance yet,” Effie said suddenly, as if reading her mind.
“Oh, I wasnae lookin’ fer him in particular,” Ivy fibbed, embarrassed at being caught out. But Effie’s laugh told her she need not have bothered. Am I really so easy tae see through?
She and Effie joined the party gathered around Laird Stewart. The charming,
good-looking laird was already so merry, there was no hint of his earlier disappointment over the hunt. Ivy thought he cut an impressive figure in his fine full kilt, frilled shirt, and dark velvet jacket.
His eyes lit up when he saw her. He came up to her, a goblet of wine in his hand, and bowed extravagantly before looking her up and down with frank appreciation. He let out a low whistle. “My, lass, if I dinnae ken it was ye, I’d nae have recognized ye. ’Tis hard tae believe ’tis the same woman who came out of the forest today soaked tae her skin and covered in mud. Ye scrub up awful nice, Ivy, if ye dinnae mind me sayin’.”
“Thank ye, I dinnae mind at all,” she replied, smiling at him. “I dinnae get enough compliments fer me tae take umbrage at them.”
He came a little closer, his vivid blue eyes shining down on her. “Well, is that so?” he said with pretended outrage. “That cannae be right. A beautiful young lassie like yersel’ should be complimented every day at least ten times.” He turned and canvassed the other men nearby for their opinions. “What d’ye think, lads?” The others were already laughing, as were many of the ladies of the group.”
“Ach, ten times a day? That’s just makin’ a rod fer yer own back, man!” one cried out, waving his tankard in mock protest.
“Aye, can ye keep it down so the ladies cannae hear ye, Knox?” Magnus called out. “Else Effie will be wantin’ me tae dae the same, and I just havenae the time.” That brought more loud laughter.
Ivy had to laugh when Effie batted at her husband playfully. “Ach, ye’re nae a proper gentleman like the laird. He kens how tae treat a lady, while ye’re sayin’ ye cannae be bothered tae find the time tae say somethin’ nice tae me each day, eh?” she pretended to scold him.
“Once or twice, maybe, but nae ten times,” Magnus argued reasonably, drawing shouts of agreement from the other men.
“Ye’ll pay fer that later, husband,” Effie told him archly before breaking into giggles and hugging his waist.
Magnus put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the lips. “Ye misunderstand me, me darlin’ lass. I only meant there are so many things tae compliment ye about that if I covered all of them every day, I’d never get any work done.”
Effie’s face softened and she gazed up at him adoringly. “Well, since ye lie so nicely, I’ll let ye off this time.”
Just to watch them together warmed Ivy’s heart. However, she could not help feeling a twinge of envy as well. The couple were obviously so much in love and happy being married to each other, it made her sad to think she would never have what they shared.
However, she did not have time to dwell on it, for the current dance was drawing to a close. Panting, red-faced couples were leaving the floor, and a new contingent was preparing to take over for the next set.
“Ivy, I’d be honored if ye’d dance this next one with me,” Laird Stewart said gallantly, proffering his arm.
Even though the man was still her captor, Ivy had grown to like him. She was genuinely happy to accept. “Aye, thank ye, melaird, I’d love tae.” He escorted her to the floor. They were closely followed by Effie and Magnus and a few other couples from their group. She and the laird took their positions along with everyone else, and the dance began.