He had been for some time.
Colmac had never felt lighter than he did after that dance. Something almost magical had happened to him. Something that surely only came along once in a lifetime. So he raced to MacLomain Castle that very night and sought out what he needed.
Something that would show her everything he felt.
“Colmac?”
He snapped to awareness at the sound of Rona’s voice not in his past but right here in front of him.
“Aye, lass,” he managed, jarred because he stood just beyond the dancing clansfolk and barely remembered moving.
Seeming to understand the source of his stupor, her hand slid into his, and she pulled him to nearly the same spot they had their first dance. “Do ye remember, then?” She squeezed his hand. “Do ye remember what happened here?”
“I do,” he whispered, tempted to pull her into his arms. Eager to relive the moment. To at long last hold her in his arms again and never let go.
It seemed she spoke of something else, though.
She nodded in the direction of the hearth. “Shall we look now? Surely that is what Bróccín referred to.”
His gaze followed hers, and he realized what she meant. Before Colmac left for MacLomain Castle that eve his brother had told them he found another hideaway.
“The rock that came loose from the hearth when Bróccín and I were dancing,” she said. “He kicked it aside then later discovered there had been a wee crevice behind it.”
“Would that be big enough for a scroll?”
“There is only one way to find out.”
She started to pull him that way, but he stopped her, remembering his brother’s request of her in the last letter.
“Nay, not yet lass.” He knew he should leave this alone but could not help himself. “He said ye were to dance again first.”
“But I just did.”
“Aye.” He pulled her into his arms. “But not with me.”
