Later that day, while preparing to go down to the great hall, he again wondered what he was doing. Despite his mother’s request, he could just as easily have Stuart escort Rona to the MacLomains. Yet every time he mulled it over, he shook his head. He would not let her carry on alone during this difficult time. He would stand by her.
Not because he desired her but because he owed his brother that.
He felt ashamed for his behavior earlier in the hallway. He should have never behaved that way. Rona was better than that.Hewas better than that. Yet to see the anguish in her gaze when she spoke of them dancing. That they had, without doubt, shared an untouchable moment. But what to do with such? It was a moment in time.
A moment that became obsolete once Bróccín declared his love for her.
He recalled it clearly. How his heart seemed to stop beating when his brother told him. To Colmac’s mind, he had no choice but to become someone else to ensure Bróccín’s dreams were not dashed. He turned from Rona, ignoring her where before he had longed to be around her. Did his heart ever resume beating after that? Hard to know. But it never mattered.
Not until now.
He entered the festive hall and realized it very much mattered. She was here, and his brother’s words haunted them both. One way or another, Bróccín’s memory forced them to face things they thought behind them. Things, it appeared, they assumed they had long conquered.
Yet he had not any more than she had.
Their eyes met when she appeared in the great hall. Wearing a blue woolen dress and a festive green ribbon in her long, flowing hair, she was beautiful. So said all the admiring gazes that turned her way as she joined the festivities.
The sound of fiddles, pipes, and merry people dancing faded away while he tried not to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Determined to give her peace, he stared at the fire or spoke with clansmen, anything to distract himself. But his gaze always drifted back to her.
He wanted her.
Just like he had since that first dance...before that even.
“Well, then, m’Laird.” Brighid eyed him with a curious frown when she joined him. “Seems the pipe is merry and our lass is too.”
“Aye, ‘tis good.” His gaze went to the clansmen flirting with Rona. They urged her to dance, but she kept shaking her head. “But is she merry enough, I wonder?”
“I imagine she will be if ye save her from the buzzards swarmin’ her, aye?” Brighid’s voice went from curious to stern, her gaze pinning him in challenge. “So what say ye?”
Recognizing a worthy adversary, he cocked a brow. “I suspect it willnae matter what Isay.” He tipped his ale to her and admitted defeat before the war began. “But what Ido, aye, Mistress?”
“Aye, laddie, ye’re a quick study.” Instead of tipping her cup against his, Brighid took his mug, downed a solid swig and kept it, winking. “And ye’re right, what ye say matters little.” She gestured in Rona's direction, her gaze never leaving him. “What yedo, though, makes all the difference.”
When Rona at last relented to a lad’s advances and twirled away in a jig, he knew Brighid was right. At least about him keeping a close eye on the lass. That’s what she meant, right? He drifted forward, watching Rona swirl in the firelight, laughing as she once did.
Just like that, he was in the past again.
The night they first danced.
“Come then, Colmac!” Rona pulled him up from the bench, her gaze wondrous as she scanned the merry crowd. She focused on the couples before she looked at him again. “I want to dance like that!” She spread her arms and twirled. “I want to feel the passion!”
He enjoyed her enthusiasm and allowed her to pull him into the crowd. They chatted as they always did, but all he could see was her laughing and dancing. That was all he could ever see lately. She had no idea, though, did she? Nay, she was a few winters younger and just coming into understanding what could be. The passion lads and lasses could feel together. A passion igniting in her eyes while she spun.
She was no longer a bairn.
They were no longer bairns.
Nay, they were on the precipice of something so much greater.
That’s when it happened.
The pipes grew merrier, the crowd more rambunctious and she was shoved right into his arms. It should have been but a blip in time. They should have laughed and stepped back a wee bit.
But they did not.
Instead, they were caught in an unforgettable moment as he kept her close. Everything dwindled down to just them. His heart pounded, and his chest tightened while their gazes held. He never forgot the way she looked at him nor what he suddenly realized.
He was in love.
