When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(67)

As the day faded into twilight, a small group of villagers gathered to make a bonfire. Instead of bringing coal from someone’s hearth, they fashioned a crude machine of sort with sticks—-almost like a drill. After nearly an hour of the biggest and strongest taking turns with it, a curl of smoke rose from the rubbing wood. A woman hurried forward with a handful of dried moss and wood shavings.

With a bit of patient blowing—-and perhaps some cursing and prayer—-the small glow became a flame. And with many hands bringing more fuel, the flame became a bonfire.

Whisky was passed around, along with wedges of fruited oatcake. Maddie politely declined the former but happily accepted the latter.

“Be sure it’s not the marked one,” Rabbie said.

“What do you mean?”

“ ’Tis tradition. One of the cakes is marked with charcoal. Whoever draws that one, we toss them into the bonfire.” He winked.

“What a charming tradition.” She inspected her oatcake. “No charcoal.”

“Ye’ll live to see the next Beltane, then.”

A bright, merry fiddling struck up, and when she looked, its source was a shock to her.

“I didn’t know Grant played the fiddle.”

“Oh, aye,” Rabbie said. “He had one that he brought with him on campaign. Hauled it over the Pyrenees and back, but it was ruined in a river crossing. The captain just brought him that one from Inverness the other day.”

Maddie nibbled at her oatcake and played a game of peek--a--boo with a little fair--haired girl hiding behind her mother’s skirt. After a few rounds of dodge--and--hide, she offered the girl the remainder of her oatcake and received a shy, gap--toothed smile in return. Maddie thought it an excellent trade.

Every once in a while, she saw Logan out of the corner of her eye—-usually talking with a farmer or one of his men, or passing another round of whisky. They never made eye contact.

Once she thought she felt the heat of his stare. But when she turned to look, he was nowhere to be found. She supposed she was imagining things. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Maddie stood close to the bonfire, hugging her shawl tight about her shoulders and watching -couples dance to the music Grant supplied. Judging by the way the men and ladies queued up, the reel didn’t seem too different from a traditional English country dance.

As the dancers queued up for a new dance, Callum appeared at her side. “Would you like to join in?”

“Oh, no,” she said without thinking.

“Ah. I see. Very well, then.”

Something in his disappointed demeanor sparked a realization. She’d been so caught in worrying about herself, she’d misunderstood. Callum hadn’t been asking whether or not she enjoyed dancing. He’d been asking her to dance.

With him.

And she’d refused him with one word and a shudder.

Really, Maddie.

“Callum, wait!” She reached out to catch him before he could disappear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were asking me to dance.”

“No matter. You dinna need to explain.”

“No, I want to explain. The truth is, I’m honored to be invited to dance. It means a great deal to me. More than you could know.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

His eyes warmed with a smile, and the knot in her stomach began to loosen up. As difficult as it was going to be to walk away from Logan, leaving Lannair Castle was going to break what remained of her heart. She would miss her new friends here. So very much.

“The problem is,” she told him, “I don’t know how to dance.”

“ ’Tis nothing. The steps are not difficult.”

“Perhaps not for most, but I’ve never danced. I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at it.”

He held up his pinned, shortened sleeve. “I’m at a disadvantage myself. So if you are terrible, at least we’ll be equally matched. Shall we have a go at it anyway? ’Tis only for laughs.”

Perhaps it was the heat of the bonfire. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to disappoint the enthusiastic look in Callum’s eyes. It was possible a small part of her hoped Logan might see them and be jealous.

But most likely . . . it was just time to stop standing in the cold. Rabbie had said she’d live to see the next Beltane. But she wouldn’t be here in the Highlands. She might only have this one chance to dance a Scottish reel, and it would be a pity to waste the night on nerves and fretting.

Perhaps this was a moment to be seized.

A moment to simply be.

For whatever reason, Maddie found herself saying yes. To dancing. For the first time in her life.

And it made her immediately wonder why she hadn’t done the same years ago.

Which is not to say that it went especially well.

The dance itself was rather a disaster—-but an amusing one. The particular reel they’d joined involved a great deal of twirling, and once Maddie started spinning, she had a hard time ceasing. Add in the fact that Callum wasn’t in the best position to reach out and catch her, they resembled nothing so much as two billiard balls colliding and spinning away from each other, repeatedly.

Before long Maddie was laughing so hard that she could scarcely catch her breath. At the end of the reel, they were supposed to grab hands—-but they missed one another entirely.