Page 52 of Some Like It Scot
Which I blamed wholly on her.
Because her cheeks were rosy, her eyes gleaming, and her breaths pulsed out from the exertion, and all I wanted to do was pull her closer the next round.
“Aye.” Craig beamed at us. “You ken the steps, Mr. MacKerrow.” Craig looked at the other couples who were in various states of entanglement. “Mr. MacKerrow and Miss Campbell are going to show you how it’s done in a full rotation.”
So, with all eyes on us, we went through the steps again, this time with even more ease than before, as Craig offered suggestions for modifications within the dance to give it more variety.
After some more guidance with the other couples and Ana Lennox nearly debilitating Wake’s foot, Craig restarted the song and encouraged everyone to keep going through the rotation for its entirety.
“Does being a new butler here have anything to do with the rumor that a local MacKerrow family owns this place?”
I blinked at her question. It wasn’t a secret, but I supposed I hadn’texpected guests to know. “I’d prefer to keep with my tradesman position, but desperate times...”
She searched my face. “So your familydoesown Craighill?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t interested in becoming a story splashed across the internet. “Does it matter?”
“Well, I certainly hope it matters to you. I just can’t understand why you’d rent it to the Lennoxes.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem the type of guy who is into theatrics, stuffed ostriches, and hobble skirts. Though”—her gaze dropped to my feet—“your dancing skills are pretty nice, so you could be a closet thespian.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, attempting to quell my rebel lips from turning upward. “I repeat, desperate times, Miss Campbell.”
The resident twinkle resurfaced in those eyes. “Did you just wake up one day and say, ‘Oh, I think I’ll buy a manor house’?”
I searched her face, her expression offering simple curiosity, so I hedged forward into trusting her a little more. “It’s our family’s estate that was sold away at the turn of the last century, over a hundred years ago. We only purchased it back little more than a year ago.”
“So itisyour family’s.” She shook her head and glanced around the room. “You must have been pretty desperate to take on this Edwardian Experience in your family home then.”
“It takes a great deal of money to make necessary renovations.”
Her eyes widened. “And the Lennoxes are helping you do that. Smart. Good plan.” She nodded and then tilted her head to stare back up at me. “Then what?”
“We’ll see.” I raised my brow but refused to elaborate.
She took the hint with a little raised brow of her own. “Fine. But this place would make an amazing wedding venue. Or hotel.” As if she’d read my plans in my head.
She was a tricky one. And I was a fool for making eye contact again.
“So, is being a butler, woodworker, country house owner,andhero the full extent of your occupation, or do you teach dancing on the side too?”
Losh! The woman and her teasing! “This is a common dance, so I’ve known it my whole life.” I gestured with my chin toward her feet. “But you’re dancin’ it fairly easily.”
She shrugged a shoulder before I turned her in a spin, a rebel strand of her hair slipping loose from the pins and trailing down her back. When I brought her into my arms for the paired spin, she answered through puffs of breath. “I try to learn dances in any of the countries I visit, and this one is similar to one I learned in England.”
The idea of traveling to enough countries to say “any” sounded tiring. “How many places have you traveled?” What a daft question.
“More than I can count.”
We moved back into side-by-side steps. “I s’pose you have favorites?”
“A few.” Her grin peaked as we walked backward. “Iceland is breathtaking. Italy is spectacular, and all that yummy food probably helps. Spain, Costa Rica, France.”
She must have noticed my frown, because she laughed as I took her into a spin. “Not a fan of France?”
“Old habit.” I shrugged off the way her grin inspired mine.
“New Zealand was definitely near the top.” She leaned in as I pulled her back into my arms, her voice dropping. “Don’t tell anyone, but I feel as though in another life I could have been a hobbit.”
A laugh burst out of me as I took in her full height. “I dinnae know if your profession inhibits you from such a choice, not to mention your height. Hobbits are regularly prone toward adventure.”
