AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But when it was over, Stimple lowered the violin and grinned at them. “How about something a bit livelier? We cannot allow these lovely ladies to sit alone all evening.”
Bridget’s eyes widened. What had Stimple meant by that remark? As soon as he began to play, she understood. This tune was sparkling and quick. It wasn’t Mozart, but something she recognized spilling out of taverns when she’d been back in London. The men began to clap, and Galloway jumped up and bowed to his sister. She gave him a look of disgust. “I do hope I’m not forced to dance with my brother.”
“Fine.” He offered his hand to Margaret, who, though she’d claimed she didn’t dance back at the farmhouse, blushed and took his hand. Bridget could hardly blame her. Galloway was an attractive man. “Arundel, dance with my sister, will you?”
Arundel sipped his wine, stood, and held out his hand. Lucy put hers in it and the two joined Margaret and Galloway in the space cleared at the front of the hall. Bridget sat very stiffly. She wanted to leave. She did not want to dance, but at the same time, she did not not want to dance. She should not have come. Perhaps she could sneak out between songs.
“Damn knee,” she heard Slorach say to Kelly. Both men were seated behind her. She dared not turn to look at them for fear her action would be construed as wanting one of them to ask her to dance.
“She’s just dancing with him,” Kelly said.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Slorach retorted.
“Sure it doesn’t.” She heard the sound of a chair being pushed back. “Well, I suppose I had better do me duty.”
Bridget didn’t have to look to know Callahan Kelly was approaching her. She tensed. He was going to ask her to dance. She knew it. She would tell him no. She would tell him she didn’t dance and then leave.
And then he was before her, and she looked up at those gray-blue eyes and forgot what she’d been about to say. Not that he gave her the chance to refuse him at any rate.
He took her hand and pulled her up. “Miss Murray, come join me in a dance.”
“But—I—”
He pulled her to the front of the hall, where he took one of her hands in his and grasped her waist in the other then swung her around. Bridget was vaguely aware of the clapping and cheering from the other agents. She was also mildly dizzy from the way Kelly spun her and moved with her. He was a good dancer. She hardly had to think where to put her feet as he led her with no hesitation. That was fortunate as she could concentrate on little besides the feel of her hand in his and the warmth of his touch on her waist. She didn’t dare look at his face or into his eyes. She kept her gaze firmly on his chin.
There was no opportunity to talk. The dance was too vigorous and Kelly too energetic. Bridget couldn’t remember ever having danced like this save for when she’d been a girl and her father had gathered her up into his arms and danced a jig with her. Her father had always smelled of drink and smoke. Kelly smelled of neither. When she inhaled tentatively, she caught the scent of tea and cloves.
The song ended abruptly, and Kelly gave her one more spin then caught her fast about the waist. The other couples were laughing and applauding, and she applauded too, stepping out of his arms and risking a glance at his face.
He winked at her. “You’ve got some Irish blood in you yet, lass.”
She wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”
“It means you dance like an angel. Another?” he asked as Stimple began another song.
“No, I don’t think—”
“Aw, lass! Live a little.” And he was twirling her about again.
Live a little. She was living just fine without his advice. And she could show him. Instead of allowing him to control her every move, she grasped her skirt and lifted her feet and did some steps of her own.
Kelly stepped back, allowing her to have the floor as she stamped her heavy boots in a quick rhythm she’d learned from her Irish grandmother, who had learned it at the ceilis of Ireland.
Just as she finished, Kelly jumped in and did his own steps. His feet moved so quickly, rapping and tapping and heels clicking that she couldn’t help but clap when he finished.
He bowed and offered her the floor again. She thought for an instant then stepped, skipped, and kicked in ways she hadn’t since she’d been a girl. She could hardly believe she even remembered the steps.
The crowd cheered, and Kelly took his turn again, his moves this time higher and even more athletic. But just as he finished, Bridget caught sight of Baron. He stood alone in the back of the room, one shoulder propped against the wall. His expression was one of calculation. Immediately, she stiffened. How could she have forgotten her position here? She wasn’t supposed to be dancing and showing off. She started to return to her seat, but Kelly caught her waist and brought her back to the dance. The other couples were dancing again now too.
“What is it, lass?” he asked. “Couldn’t compete with me last moves?”
“No. It’s just that I’m tired.”
“You? Tired? I don’t believe it.” The music finished, and everyone clapped. Kelly leaned close to her. “One more, darlin’.”
“No. I need to sit down.” She walked away before he could insist, her gaze flicking to the spot where Baron had been, but it was empty now.
At the front of the hall, Kelly took Margaret in his arms and Galloway danced with his sister. For all of Lucy’s protests, she and her brother danced perfectly together.
