Page 52 of Taming the Scot
A reel she knew how to do, as they often did them at the local public house in her close and the very few cèilidhs she’d been invited to. She nodded, grinning, and joined the line with Euan opposite her. While the aristocracy’s steps were a little primmer than her own, she was able to modify them fine, joining the rest of the guests in their joy of the dance. Throughout it all, she and Euan couldn’t seem to take their eyes off of one another.
When it was finished, sweat trickled down her back, and her ceaseless smile refused to go away.
“That was fun, aye?” Euan said, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.
She nodded, and they jumped into the next dance. When they’d finished, her throat was parched, and her hair was in danger of coming out of its pins. An exhilarating feeling was thrumming through her veins, and now she knew why Euan’s sisters had been so excited for the ball. What she’d thought was going to be a nightmare was a lot of fun. Of course, they were not doing at all what they’d come to accomplish—finding Euan a worthy bride. In fact, by dancing so much together, they were implying she was that lucky lass if the rules in Lady Edinburgh’s guide were to be believed.
And for some reason, as the minutes continued to tick by, the less she cared about that.
“Some punch?” he asked, and she nodded, following him to the long table with punch and refreshments.
Euan handed her a glass, and they both sipped heartily until Euan was jostled from behind, nearly spilling his punch. If he’d not been more agile, it might have splashed all over Bronwen. But he saved it at the last second.
“Oh my. I’m terribly sorry. Pardon my clumsiness,” a lass said with the faintest hint of a smirk on her face as she scooted between them, giving Bronwen her back as she presented herself to Euan. “Captain Irvine? Is that ye?”
Bronwen narrowed her gaze over the woman’s shoulder, and for a moment, Euan looked confused. Their eyes met, and she could read in the depths of his gaze that he had not the foggiest idea of who the rude lass was.
“I do apologize, my lady. Have we met?” He took a step back as the lass seemed to be standing overly close.
She laughed and touched his arm, and Bronwen had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at how unsubtle the woman was being. There were a few paragraphs in Lady Edinburgh’s Guide for Gentleman about lasses like this. A true gentleman should steer clear as it was a good sign that they were husband hunters and not the kind that a gentleman might want to be acquainted with. If Euan didn’t realize that soon, then Bronwen would be obliged to step in.
“Oh, Captain, ye are too funny,” the lass said, her fingers dancing over his jacket sleeve. “We spent an entire week together.”
By some miracle, Bronwen managed to keep her eyeballs from popping out of her head. Euan, however, choked on his punch. So, he was very well acquainted, it would seem. What a cad for not remembering his lover. Bronwen frowned.
The lady’s grin only widened as she stepped a little to the side, so she could look back at Bronwen with a saucy and somehow snotty expression that set Bronwen’s nerves on edge. She looked to be Bronwen’s age, and she was bonnie; there was no doubt about that. But there was also a pinched, sour look to her that showed her personality.
“Lady Mary,” Maggie said acidly, with Giselle and Jaime at her side. “What a pleasure to see ye again.”
The way Maggie said it made it sound very much as if it was the opposite of anything pleasant. Bronwen couldn’t have been happier to see her friends.
Mary did not smile as she slid her gaze toward the three women. “Indeed.”
Maggie caught Bronwen’s eye, sending a silent message. “We met Lady Mary at that house party I was telling ye about.”
“Ah,” Bronwen said, keeping her face straight but recalling how Maggie had said the house party had been horrendous. Considering the way Maggie was looking at Bronwen now as if trying to impart a communication, she got the impression that this Lady Mary might have been the reason the house party was so…vexing.
“And ye are?” Lady Mary said, not trying to hide her animosity as she finally paid Bronwen more attention, now that she seemed worthy, Bronwen supposed.
“This is Miss Bronwen Holmes,” Euan said, pride dripping from his words.
“She’s verra dear to our family,” Maggie added, looking down her nose at Lady Mary.
Lady Mary’s gaze flicked between Euan and Bronwen as if trying to formulate in her mind what their connection might be, but she said nothing more. She offered a flash of an acrid smile with a toss of her head and left, as if they had all become suddenly uninteresting to her.
Which suited not only Bronwen just fine, but it appeared the rest of the group too. She would be very happy if she never had to deal with her again. My goodness, but Lady Mary was the epitome of what Bronwen thought of society lasses. For a little while, having been on close terms with Euan’s sisters and now with Jaime and Giselle, she thought she’d gotten it all wrong. But Lady Mary proved there were still vipers nestling within the den of the aristocracy, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Well, that could have been worse,” Giselle said, then with a sarcastic tone added, “She’s so…pleasant.”
Bronwen couldn’t help it. She started to laugh, and apparently, it was contagious because, within minutes, all of them were in stitches.
13
“Would ye care to take our punch to the balcony?” Euan asked, nodding toward the glass doors that had been opened at the back of the ballroom to let in a cool evening breeze, which was welcome given the ballroom had become stifling during the dancing.
He’d been waiting to ask her that since the second dance. With every minute that passed, his chest felt as if it were going to burst with the need to share with her his feelings and his desire to make her his wife. Since last night, he’d been trying to think of what the most special moment would be. And he’d concluded that there was no right or perfect moment.
But rather, now.
