Marissa pressed closer to him, her side brushing gently against his hip, chasing the thought from his mind almost as quickly as it had come. The crowd pushed against him, pressing her closer to him.
There was a tightening beneath his kilt, and he shifted so as not to draw attention.
“Will ye be dancin’ with me tonight?” Marissa asked, her voice husky as it floated over the chatter and music. “Or will ye be glowerin’ in a corner because ye’re nae a good dancer?”
“I’m a fine dancer, just nae as good as ye” Arthur grumbled. “And it’ll be ye who will have to try to keep up.”
Marissa chuckled. “Have ye been practicin’ then? In all the free time ye’ve had since we’ve gotten here?”
She covered her mouth and laughed to herself, the sight of her so lovely and bright stirring something deeper within him.
“And when do ye think I’d have had time to practice?” he quipped.
An unruly curl had slipped free from one of her braids, landing on the side of her face. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips as he swept it back, tucking it behind her ear.
Arthur wasn’t certain, but he could have sworn that when he touched her, she’d shifted. Leaning into his touch ever so slightly, before her eyes went wide.
“Excuse me,” a child’s voice sounded above the din of the crowd. “M’Lady?”
Arthur looked around, seeing Marissa doing the same, until their eyes landed on a young girl who had somehow wound her way through the adults to stand directly in the center of their group.
She was tugging on Marissa’s skirts, looking up at her with big blue eyes filled with wonder and awe.
His future wife did not miss a beat. She sank down, putting herself at eye level with the child, and her lips stretched into a warm, friendly grin.
The crowd around them paused, each person paying rapt attention to the woman who would soon be the lady of their clan. Arthur scanned the people around them and spotted the council still standing on the raised platform, watching just as eagerly as everyone else.
“Greetings,” Marissa said, her tone light and friendly. “And who might ye be?”
“Me name is Fiona,” the young girl replied. “And I thought ye should ken that ye’re mighty bonnie.”
Marissa laughed, the sound of it so light and melodic it would have rivaled the most beautiful tinkering of bells.
“Is that so?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
When Fiona nodded, Marissa reached into her hair, expertly plucking one of the small white buds that had been tucked between the strands.
“Well,” she continued, her voice kind and clear, “I think that ye’re the bonniest thing here.”
She tucked the flower behind the girl’s ear. The moment it was nestled amongst her blonde locks, Fiona beamed.
“Do ye really think that?” the girl asked, her grin so wide it seemed like it might split her cheeks.
Marissa’s eyes went wide, her face showing nothing but sincerity as she nodded.
“Do ye want to ken what makes ye so bonnie?” she asked, waiting long enough for Fiona to nod eagerly before continuing. “Because ye have a kind heart. Kindness is the bonniest thing a lassie can have. If ye’ve got a kind heart”—she raised a finger and pointed it directly at the girl’s chest—“then ye’ve got everythin’ ye need in the world. Will ye remember that?”
Once again, Fiona nodded eagerly.
Marissa didn’t have time to react before the young girl threw her slender arms around her neck. It took only a second before Marissa returned the hug, patting the girl on the back softly.
Arthur watched, noting that Marissa’s mouth was still moving. She was saying something to the girl that only she could hear.
When their hug broke, Fiona stepped out of her arms. She stared at Marissa for only a moment more, giving her a rather exaggerated wink and a nod, before turning and scurrying back through the crowd.
Marissa straightened, her hands working to smooth down her skirts. She seemed oblivious to the people around them. Oblivious to the fact that they were still watching her, murmuring amongst themselves about the display they’d all just witnessed from their new lady.
But Arthur did not miss it. He strained his ears, curiosity getting the better of him.
