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He pulled her to the center of the lawn, almost to the spot where they’d dined, and slipped an arm around her waist. The hand that already held hers brought their clasped fingers closer to his chest.
With a breath and a smile, they began the dancing. It wasn’t the sort of tune that could be eased into. As such, they were soon whirling and jigging about the grass, moving at a dizzying pace to match the beat of the drums and the flow of the fiddle. Saoirse’s heart soared to the music, laughter bubbling up her throat as they turned and turned, their eyes never leaving one another’s faces.
Around the dance floor, the guests clapped in time to the music, cheering on their Laird and Lady. Saoirse’s sisters were the loudest of them all, whooping and hollering as if they were at a bawdy country dance instead. It only served to raise Saoirse’s spirits to loftier heights, until she thought she could fly if they just turned faster.
“Ye’re radiant,” Noah gasped, sweat beading on his brow.
“Ye’re glistenin’ a little yerself,” she teased in reply, though fully aware that droplets of perspiration were trickling down her own face. The night was balmy, and the dancing was vigorous, so there could be no helping the heat of their bodies.
He chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that ye always turn a compliment into a jest.”
“As I must remembernaeto turn yer compliments into jests,” she conceded, wondering if her husband had been replaced with a changeling in the night. This could not be the same man who had pushed her away as if she were an irritating insect, crawling on his shoulder.
The dance alone was a world away from what they’d shared on their actual wedding night. There was a comfort and an ease that hadn’t been there before. She no longer feared laughing in front of him or enjoying herself in case it annoyed him. And he seemed to feel the same, as his charming smile had yet to leave his face. Even throughout dinner, she’d caught him looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. This time, it appeared he liked what he saw.
“There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to give ye,” he murmured, as the music began to slow to a conclusion. “Somethin’ I should’ve given ye at our first weddin’.”
Saoirse’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
“What is that shocked expression for?” He laughed softly, likely aware of exactly what she was thinking.
She cleared her throat, recovering quickly. “Is it a gift?”
“More of an apology.”
“Another one?” She beamed from ear to ear. “Why, they must be in season.”
“Aye, and I’m pluckin’ them all while I can,” he replied, twirling her once more as the music ended and the guests exploded into rapturous applause.
Even the grumpy old council men, who’d come to investigate the sound of revels, seemed pleased by the turn of events. But no one could’ve been happier than Saoirse. She was in her husband’s arms, laughing and jesting, and though the music had stopped, he still hadn’t let her go.
“Apologies, Laird Huxtable, but we must have our turn about the dance floor with our blushin’ bride!” Georgia seized Saoirse’s hand, pulling her into a circle with their other two sisters.
If it hadn’t been for the amused smile on Noah’s face, she would’ve felt anxious about leaving his side. But it was like he was giving her his blessing to have all the enjoyment her heart desired, while he would watch and admire her from a distance until she came back to him. With the musicians in fine spirits, led by Mary, and the Castle servants all flooding in to join the revels, it seemed like it would be a long and glorious night, with a thousand opportunities for Saoirse to dance with Noah again.
And when it was all done, she would receive whatever it was he had waiting for her. A gift, an apology, or something even more promising.
* * *
Finding his chance during a lull in the festivities, with only the hardiest folk continuing on, Noah snuck up behind Saoirse. She was deep in conversation with the council, and it seemed to be going well, but he sensed she was ready for an excuse to leave the old men. Their lusty eyes, fueled by drink, rankled Noah.
“Excuse me, Gentlemen. I’ve a matter to discuss with my wife.” Noah fixed a polite smile to his face.
The men grumbled, but they couldn’t refuse their Laird. Although, Noah saw their reluctance was averygood sign. If they were happy with Saoirse and the way the marriage seemed to be going, that was one less thing for him to worry about.
“It was a pleasure to meet ye all at last.” Saoirse dipped her head respectfully. “Mr. McEvoy, ye must tell me more about that quince ye’re growin’ when ye have the time. I miss me maither’s quince jam like nothin’ else, so I might have to request some off ye. See if I cannae make somethin’ similar.”
Jock McEvoy looked like he was about to hurl his own marriage vows into the nearby loch. “Of course, M’Lady. When they’ve ripened, ye can have yer pick of them!”
“Thank ye kindly. Please, continue to enjoy the evenin’.” Saoirse took hold of Noah’s hand, giving it a light squeeze as he led her away from the old men. Even Noah could feel them staring as she departed.
Guiding her through a secret gap in the garden’s hedgerow—a shortcut to the Castle—Noah could no longer restrain himself. She yelped as he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her into the Castle as swiftly as possible. No one saw the pair, as most of the servants were out in the gardens, relishing in the fact that Saoirse had given them permission to have fun.
“Put me down!” she squealed, kicking her legs. “Ye’ve ruffled my skirts up! Anyone could see!”
Noah grinned. “Then ye’d best nae distract me, so I can get ye out of sight before yer dignity is compromised.”
“Och, ye beast!” She laughed brightly as she thumped him on the shoulder.
