Page 51 of The Rogue's Bride
Caitrin both ate and drank sparingly.
She wanted her wits about her for the dancing, when she would have the opportunity to speak to each of her suitors in turn.
At the table, those surrounding Caitrin all paced themselves differently. Her father downed food and wine with abandon, while Una picked at her meal like a sparrow. MacNichol and Campbell ate and drank moderately, while MacKay drained tankard after tankard of ale. Next to Caitrin, Alasdair ate slowly and barely touched the goblet of wine before him. After downing that horn of mead so quickly, Caitrin wasn’t surprised. His face remained pale for some time afterward.
She and Alasdair didn’t speak during the feast, choosing instead to ignore each other. Yet she was aware of his presence next to her, even when she was talking to one of her suitors. All three of them worked hard for her attention during the feasting. They teased each other, flattered her, and plied Caitrin with questions.
When the last of the food was cleared away, Caitrin was exhausted. She could easily have slunk away to her bower, but there was the dancing still to come. She wouldn’t be able to leave for a long while yet.
The lutist and harpist changed their tune, instead shifting to a playful jig, while the tables were pushed back and the hall cleared.
A line of men and women then took to the floor.
“Lady Caitrin.” Fergus MacKay rose to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’d like to have the first dance with ye, if I may?”
Caitrin nodded. She got up and stepped down from the dais, joining the others at the end of the line. Fergus followed, taking her hand, and then they began. Two steps forward, two steps back, and then a twirl. Caitrin knew all the steps, for she and her sisters had done this one many times over the years. This was a dance that all high-born lasses knew, for it was popular at handfastings and other celebrations.
After the twirl Caitrin picked up her skirts and followed the other dancers around in a circle. She moved in short, gliding strides, while keeping her back ramrod straight.
The music grew more strident. Caitrin twirled, stepped, and dipped, while the onlooking crowd started to clap. She loved to dance, and it felt good to move after the long feast. The music caught alight in her veins, and she let it carry her away.
Alasdair watched Caitrin move.
He was unable to take his gaze off her, tracking her across the dance floor as she glided backward and forward. She circled Fergus MacKay, the pair of them edging around each other, drawing together and then apart. He watched MacKay say something to her, before Caitrin smiled back at him.
Alasdair sucked in a sharp breath.
Caitrin had never looked so lovely. She’d left her long pale-blonde hair completely unbound, although someone had threaded daisies through it. Rather than the sky-blue kirtle of the day before, she wore a gown of shimmering pale green.
It hurt Alasdair to look upon her. Each moment was torture, and yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“Tell me of yer home in Strathnaver,” Caitrin asked as she circled her dance partner. “I have yet to visit the mainland.”
Fergus MacKay flashed her a wide smile. Despite that he’d looked unsteady on his feet when he’d risen from the table, he danced with surprising grace. “My father resides at Castle Varrich, where I grew up,” he replied. “But these days I rule the lands around Borve Castle.”
The dance brought them close, and MacKay’s smile faded, his gaze growing intense. “It’s a wild, beautiful coast, milady. I look forward to showing it to ye.”
They circled around each other, back to back now.
“Do ye visit Skye often?” Caitrin asked.
“Every year or so,” he replied. “Why?”
Caitrin twisted her head right, meeting Fergus MacKay’s eye. “My son resides at Duntulm … I don’t wish to be parted from him.”
“I’m afraid ye will be,” he said softly, regret in his green eyes. “Ye shall bear my sons … that will make it easier to forget the one ye left behind.”
Caitrin dropped her gaze. Indignance pulsed through her. Did MacKay really think a woman could just forget such things?
The dance ended then, and MacKay led Caitrin back to her seat. Another dance started up, a lively jig that had most of the onlookers clapping their hands and stamping their feet as the dancers whirled.
Caitrin was glad she was waiting this one out. It gave her time to think.
Fergus MacKay had just made her decision easier. If she wed him, she’d never see Eoghan again. Sipping her wine, she deliberately swiveled round on the bench, facing the dancers, so that her back was to Alasdair MacDonald. It was easier to pretend he wasn’t sitting next to her if she kept her back to him.
Once the dance ended, another gentler one commenced. And this time, Ross Campbell led Caitrin out onto the floor.
Una’s brother was an excellent dancer. He moved with fluid grace, his midnight-blue eyes tracking Caitrin with a near predatory intensity.
