Page 88 of An Enchanted Spring
“How can I get Shane to understand that I’m not interested?” Emma asked.
Brianagh smiled blandly at a laird who passed by their table, then replied, “Well, you gave him the obligatory dance that his father secured. So, the next dance he asks of you, kindly inform him you’re waiting for Aidan. Then ask him how his dance with Brigit went. That ought to give him an idea that your heart isn’t with him.”
Emma nodded her assent, and when he approached her again, she did exactly that. His enthusiasm dimmed, but he remained cordial and pleasant before excusing himself.
“Works like a charm every time,” Bri noted with satisfaction. “The language of love is the same no matter the century. Though I’m not sure it’ll be enough to put him off you completely.”
Emma snorted. “At least I’m learning a lot about medieval matchmaking.”
“There is that,” Bri agreed, and they dissolved into giggles.
“I wonder what you ladies find so humorous,” a deep voice asked from behind them.
Brianagh dropped her head back and gazed adoringly at her husband. “Girl talk. Where did you go for so long? Lairds have been asking for you.”
“We went to his solar, to weep over the expense of your little event,” Aidan said as he approached them.
Emma gave him her back.
“Saints, Bri, there must be at least a hundred people here, eating through your larder!”
“I’m not worried,” Bri replied. “They’re here to see a wedding, Aidan. I plan to give them just that. Speaking of, how was your dance with Monaghan?” Brianagh asked Emma.
Emma shot her a murderous glare, but Bri kept her expression serene.
“Perhaps I could have the next dance, Lady Emma?”
Her answer was immediate. “No.”
“Emma,” Bri said quietly, “you just told Monaghan you were waiting for Aidan.”
Emma grit her teeth and shot an accusatory glare at Brianagh. “Whose side are you on?”
“Love’s side. Always love.”
Aidan came around to her front and kneeled in front of her. “I beg of you, a single dance. Let me apologize for my harsh words at supper. I was out of line.”
He waited patiently for her answer, and despite her anger, her heart began to thump in triple overtime. She nodded her head wordlessly. He slowly brought her hand up from her lap, turned it over, and kissed the inside of her wrist. She gasped softly, and felt his smile against her skin.
Carefully, he placed her hand back in her lap. “You won’t regret it.”
“Oh, I think I will,” she disagreed.
The current dance ended and the musicians placed their instruments aside.
“I’ll find you when the musicians strike up another chord, then.” Aidan turned to his brother and murmured in Gaelic, “Susceptibility.”
Nioclas tipped his head, and Aidan left the three of them staring after him, Bri and Nioclas in amusement, Emma in angry confusion.
Again.
When the musicdid start up again, Nioclas offered Emma his hand before Aidan could make his way across the great hall.
Emma took it, suspicious. Instead of leading her to the line of people forming for the next dance, he walked with her slowly around the room. He greeted various people as they circled the tables and introduced her to almost everyone. Emma knew better than to question what he was doing in front of others. He was the laird, and if he wanted to walk her around the room, he would walk her around the room.
That was Medieval Culture 101.
After awhile, Nioclas leaned down and said quietly, “If I might ask you a few questions, Lady Emma?”
