Page 77 of Some Like It Scot
I tightened my hold, drawing her deeper into my embrace, and her smile slowly faded as she stared up at me, her increased breaths pulsing her chest. Her height brought her lips temptingly close, and the rest of her filled my arms in a perfect fit.
“I imagine I’ll remember the steps quickly enough.”
Watching her response to me nearly undid every logical thought in my head and sent me breaching the distance to claim those parted lips of hers. I’d never known anyone who needed rescuing more than her or offered so much with her personality, and I kept wanting to show up for it. For her.
I was mad.
And fascinated all at the same time.
“So should I let you lead, or do you need me to show you the ropes first?” Her rasped question added a little extra heat to our nearness. Heaven and earth! “Until... until you remember the steps?”
My arm slipped from the side of her waist fully around her back, nearly bringing her flush against me. “I’ll remember.”
Her breath stopped altogether. Perhaps mine did too, especially when her attention dropped to my lips. And then I nearlydidlose all sense and give her a thorough smuirich in the middle of the ballroom.
“Mr. MacKerrow, that hold is much too close for a proper waltz.” Lennox tapped on my arm, and I drew out of my trance, pulling my attention from Katie’s lips to Lennox’s pinched expression. “Only arms are touching. We are not in a taproom.” She gestured toward Wake and Ana. “See there. Ana has always excelled at waltzing.”
Because Wake knew how to lead.
I drew back from Katie into a “proper” hold, garnering Lennox’s nod of approval as she walked back to the center of the group.
When I looked back down at my partner, my gaze fell on her crooked smile. “I have a feeling you were a wee bit of a troublemaker when you were young.”
“Aye.” She made it too easy to flirt. Too easy to enjoy the banter. “Perhaps more than a wee bit, especially when I had a goal in mind.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she lifted her chin in defiance, taking my challenge like the lass I knew she was. “And what about you? Do you have a goal in mind?”
“Oh, aye!” I wiggled my brows and leaned closer. Her breath hitched all over again. “Leading you in the waltz.”
She released a chuckle, regaining her composure much too quickly for my pride. “That remains to be seen, Mr. MacKerrow.”
With her challenge spurring me forward, I took the first step. Now, I’m not too stubborn to admit that she graciously followed andeven pressed a hand here and there to keep me in the right direction until I found my rhythm. We worked well as a team. I imagined we’d match in many other ways too.
And then, well, I started wondering just how long I could convince Katie Campbell to stay in Mull.
***
Katie
Some things in life you’re prepared to witness and remain somewhat composed. Weddings. Scuba diving (lesson learned). Middle school musicals when your oldest niece dies as Juliet.
But watching Graeme MacKerrow compete in the cannonball throw competition discombobulated me entirely. I mean, I resorted to some teen version of myself, cheering and occasionally swooning from the sight. I think I may have drooled a little, but I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.
The Mull Highland Games brought an ambience of festivity and cultural pride. From the processional led by chieftains in their traditional dress to the parade of dancers, bagpipers, and a few dozen brawny-looking men in T-shirts and kilts, the entire experience showcased the pride and love of the Scottish heritage I was beginning to understand a little more every day.
It reminded me so much of my own Appalachian heritage and the way my grandparents celebrated the rich history, lore, and people among the Blue Ridge.
The same confidence and grounding of the soul was interwoven through the people participating in the games, as well as through the spectators hovering on a nearby grassy field.
And I wasdefinitelytaking in the view.
Of one Scot in particular.
Unapologetically and, perhaps, a little slack-jawed.
After the waltz and a conversation in the hallway later about his sister, Graeme MacKerrow took up more and more space in my mind.
Dave and Brett kept sending me texts teasing me about the growing hashtag use of #katieshotscot. And then there were the hundreds of comments on my posts matching me with the Scot over anyone else in the comedy Clue movie of my life. And the Clue theme had worked in my latest post, introducing the “characters” in Craighill without using their names or real photos. Only fun descriptions to give readers and followers the chance to get involved in choosing their favorite “actors” in the Edwardian Experience and to draw positive attention to Craighill.
