Page 78 of Duke It Out
“Oh,” says Kate airily. “Bush telegraph. You know what it’slike up here, you can’t sneeze without the whole village knowing about it.”
She turns to us with a sweet smile. “Donald’s prize Highland bull has a bit of a… performance problem.” She wiggles her pinkie finger with a meaningful look, making everyone except Donald laugh.
His colour rises in his already-ruddy cheeks, and he blusters wordlessly for a moment then shakes his head.
“I’m off to have a word with Jack Munro,” he says, stomping off in disgust.
“I could kiss you,” Rory says, putting an arm around Kate and squeezing her shoulder. “I thought I was going to be stuck with the old bastard all night.”
“Thereyou are,” says Anna indignantly as she taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see her standing there with a furious expression on her face. “I was looking everywhere. There are so many people in dresses like yours I couldn’t pick you out.”
Anna’s gone for red carpet glam. Her hair is glossy and pinned to fall over one shoulder, her dress and nails are matching scarlet. But it’s clear that the dramatic last-minute entrance has fallen flat and she is not happy. Everyone’s too busy drinking and dancing and laughing. Janey’s been dragged into a wildly chaotic version of Strip the Willow. Jamie’s in the corner behind a chocolate fountain, shirt sleeves rolled up, getting stuck in.
“I can’t see anyone in a dress as beautiful as Edie’s,” says Kate doing an over-exaggerated scan of the room. “And I’m not just saying that because I helped pick it out.”
Rory doesn’t say anything, but I feel his eyes on me and my skin prickles under his gaze. And then I feel Anna’s eyes on both of us.
“Anyway,” she says with a little pout of her freshly appliedred lipstick. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”
Rory, of course, having impeccable manners, jumps into action. A moment later a boy in a white shirt and dark trousers appears with a tray of cocktails. Anna downs one, plonks it back on the tray and helps herself to another.
“I need to catch up,” she says breezily. I avoid Rory’s eye and pretend to be very interested in the band on their balcony above us. They’ve stopped for a moment, and everyone is taking the opportunity to take a breather to recover from the exertion of ceilidh dancing.
Kate turns around, putting her hand on my arm.
“Oh god, Fenella’s here.”
Rory’s back stiffens almost imperceptibly.
I follow her gaze to see a tall blonde sweeping into the room, dressed in jet black satin, dripping in diamonds, her hair swept back to show off her cheekbones. Anna’s eyes narrow instinctively because whoever this is has just made exactly the sort of entrance she was aiming for and missed.
She glides through the crowd, air-kissing a few guests, managing to sail through the melee without so much as a hair being knocked out of place. And I look at Rory to see his jaw is rigid.
She comes to a stop in front of the young boy holding a tray and picks up a canape as if she’s doing him a favour. I stand by the window trying not to stare, feeling myself starting to shrink. The band starts up again.
And then Rory takes my arm.
“Dance with me.” The words are almost a murmur but it’s not a question, it’s a command.
“What?” I take a sip of my cocktail and cough as it hits the back of my throat.
He holds out his hand, an inscrutable expression on his face.
I take it and follow him onto the dancefloor as the music starts. It’s theGay Gordons, which is the only dance we learned in school that made any sense. As we pass Fenella, I feel her eyes boring into my back but I’m too busy concentrating to notice.
“Are you counting steps?” He cocks his head slightly.
Two three four,I think to myself as I nod. “I can’t keep up otherwise.”
He laughs and I’m reminded how handsome he looks when he’s smiling. While the aristocracy around us twirls and flirts, I remember the cottages he renovated for women with nowhere to go. Ginny from the coffeeshop whizzes past with a wave and a huge smile, and we pass Fenella, who manages to glare at me and eye up Rory at the same time. It’s almost impressive.
“Am I dancing with you so you don’t have to talk to her?” If he can ask questions –two three four– so can I.
“You’re dancing with me because I wanted to dance with you.”
Something inside my stomach does a very definite swoop.
“If I have to put on this ridiculous ball there has to be some benefit.”
