Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

H is wife should be only dancing with him. Only him and no one else.

This possessive thought kept swirling inside the pool of Alistair's raging mind, as he watched Mylo O'Connor dance with Hannah. Worst of all was that Mylo was ten times the dancer Alistair was. That meant Alistair could not outdance him. But he could do other things better, and one of them was pulling his wife away from him and demanding that she dance with him instead.

"Ye daenae mind if I steal me wife from ye, do ye now?" Alistair grinned, trying to sound as polite as possible, but in reality, he would gladly throw this man out of his home held by the neck for having had the audacity to dance with his wife.

"Why, of course not," Mylo acknowledged in the same manner: only superficially politely. Alistair was certain that if the music hadn't been so loud, he would have been able to hear the man's teeth grinding against each other.

Alistair gripped Hannah's hand, his other hand firmly placed around her waist. Now, more than ever, the hall was brought to life with music, all these smiling faces and laughter. Everyone seemed to be having a splendid time. Alistair was glad for that.

He felt a twinge of envy intertwined with rage that this man had jumped in and stole his first dance with his wife. Then, he remembered that he had refused Hannah's offer to dance. If he had to blame anyone, that would have to be himself.

"Does dancin' bring ye so much discomfort?" he suddenly heard Hannah ask.

"Why do ye ask?" he wondered, trying to clear his throat a little.

"Ye appear to be in physical distress," she pointed out.

He was. In fact, he was in great physical distress, which surfaced as a direct result of him witnessing his wife dancing with another man. He had no idea this sight would be so difficult and unpleasant to behold. Yet, it was. He could not deny it. Even his wife had become acutely aware of it, much to his chagrin.

"I have come to the conclusion that it was… wrong of me to refuse yer offer to dance," he managed to muster, focusing his gaze on her. "Seeing that bampot dance with ye– "

"Ye mean Laird O'Connor?" she couldn't resist laughing at him referring to the man as a bampot. "He is actually a nice man. Wee bit borin', but…"

She wasn't able to finish, because the dance had started, and they needed to follow the steps.

"There is nothin' nice about him," Alistair couldn't hold it in. It was only then that he realized how amused his wife was by this entire ordeal. He didn't know what to think of it. Perhaps it was safest not to think about her at all. But how could he do that when she was right in his arms?

"He wanted to dance with me," she pointed out, without any malice, once they faced each other, only to turn around again.

"And do ye wish to dance with every man here?" he asked, disgruntled.

"I only want one man to dance with me," she told him again, as sweetly as she could. "He rejected me. That isnae very nice, ye must agree, cannae ye?"

He could tell now that she was teasing him. He still wanted to plant a facer to that lairdling who thought himself worthy of dancing with his wife, but Hannah's smile and her melodious voice were enough to subdue the commotion inside of him and allow him to focus solely on her.

"Aye," he grinned. "Nae very nice, indeed."

"Now, I ken ye arenae a good dancer, Alistair, but do try to keep up," she continued to tease him in a good-natured manner. "I daenae wish to be steppin' on yer feet."

Upon saying those words, her cheeks flared up a little. Perhaps she thought that her playful little banter had crossed the line. But she could not have been more erroneous. He was starting to get a glimpse of the fiery side of his wife, and he was loving it more and more with each exchanged word. She wanted to make him jealous. Now, she was teasing him. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but Alistair knew that he wanted to play it.

"I feel too much under pressure with all these eyes upon us," he said mischievously. "I'm afraid ye might have to give me dancin' lessons."

"Me teach ye somethin'?" she asked, that playful smile gracing her beautiful face the entire time. "That depends."

"On what?" he asked curiously.

"Whether ye are truly willin' to learn," she pointed out.

"Do I really seem like someone unwillin' to learn?" he asked, twirling her away from himself, waiting a few moments for her to return, only to lock gazes with her again.

She was breathtaking. She was the most beautiful woman here, and she was his wife. That was something he could still not believe.

"Ye seem like someone who thinks they ken everythin'," she said, with a light chuckle.

"Ye have me there," he couldn't resist chuckling as well. After all, this wasn't far from the truth. He liked to think he was a knowledgeable man, although he was far from a know-it-all. At least, he thought so.

"I obviously daenae dance well," he said then purposely made the wrong move, so they bumped into each other. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. Her cheeks flared up furiously, but she regained her senses quickly, moving away from him and continuing the dance as it was supposed to be. "But there are other things I can do better than any laird out there."

Hearing those words made her widen her eyes in shock at him. This time, it was he who thought he had crossed the line, but a moment later, she smiled at him again.

"Like plantin' flowers?" she immediately had something to retort. He loved her quick wit.

"What can I say?" he grinned. "I like lookin' at beautiful things. They are a pleasant distraction from the weariness of the world." He had no idea where all these words and concealed compliments were streaming from, but he couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. "For instance, that is how I noticed ye dancin' with that… laird."

"Because ye were lookin' at me?" she wondered mischievously, although the message behind his words was clear enough.

"Aye," he confessed, gripping her hand and pulling her closer to him, not simply because the dance steps urged him to. He would have done that anyway. "Ye are a distracting force."

"Oh," she sounded disappointed, arching her eyebrow in amusement. "I hoped ye were goin' to say I was more beautiful than the flowers."

"Would ye like me to say that?" he grinned.

"A lady would never plant words in a laird's mouth," she told him with a twinkle in her eye, the likes of which he had never seen before. "I think ye are smart enough to know what ye can and cannae say. As for yer dancin'… now that is somethin' else," she giggled softly.

This was where the music stopped, and like everyone else, they bowed and curtsied before each other. He almost cursed at the orchestra for having ended the music so hastily, but it was only hasty in his mind. One dance was not enough with Hannah. Not nearly enough.

"I think I see me sister all alone," she informed him. "I shall go keep her company. Now, ye daenae be givin' away me dances to other ladies. I shall be back again."

With those words, she stepped up on her toes, and gave him a peck on the cheek. It took all of his conscious effort to allow her to leave his presence gracefully, without him pulling her into his arms and showering her lips with passionate kisses.

He inhaled deeply, pleading for this evening to be over soon, so the guests would all retire to their chambers and sleep. He, on the other hand, had no intention of sleeping this evening.

Hannah wasn't planning on sneaking up on her sister, but it seemed that this was exactly what she had managed to do. Olivia was apparently lost in thought, her eyes focused on small group of men who were casually chatting with one another. Hannah only then realized that one of them was the man she had seen talking to Olivia an hour before.

Gently, she touched Olivia's hand, which was enough to bring her sister back to the present moment.

"Oh, Hannah," Olivia smiled, turning around to face her sister. "I dinnae see ye there."

"I could tell that much," Hannah teased. "Yer attention was focused elsewhere. On a certain handsome young gentleman, I presume?"

Olivia chuckled, pressing her hand to her lips. Her cheeks immediately flared up upon this reference and Hannah could immediately tell that Olivia was besotted by the young man. While that was to be expected for any young lady, Hannah still wanted to be careful. Olivia was unlike other girls. She was much more na?ve and tended to have a rosy outlook on life, preferring to believe that the stories she read in books, namely romance novels, could actually happen in real life.

"His name is Colby Johnstone," Olivia said conspiringly, leaning closer to Hannah, so that no one else could hear what she was saying. That was how Hannah was certain that Olivia had fallen for him instantly. He had already become her secret.

"I daenae ken him," Hannah pointed out. Although, she didn't expect to. "We should inquire with Hunter about him. He should ken."

"Aye, but not tonight," Olivia agreed, under a condition.

The moment Hannah's eyes locked with her sister's; she knew that there was more to the story than Olivia was willing to divulge. But this was neither the time, nor the place for private conversations. It would have to wait.

"I promised him a dance," Olivia admitted, unable to control her smile which was wider than Hannah had ever seen.

"But ye have spoken with him?" Hannah inquired.

"Several times throughout the evening," Olivia confirmed. "He is such a gentleman. And he is so interested in everything I have to say. He constantly keeps asking me questions, urging me to tell him more about meself, me life, me family, and he– "

"That is all fine, Olivia," Hannah tried to caution her sister, but when someone was so obviously blindly in love, it was difficult to talk sense into them. "But perhaps ye shouldnae divulge everythin' about yerself the first time ye speak to someone."

Olivia frowned. "It wasnae the first time. It was the third."

"But on the same occasion," Hannah pointed out, much to Olivia's displeasure.

However, seeing that her sister was mesmerized by the man, the safest option was to keep an eye on both of them for the rest of the evening, and have a serious talk with Olivia about enjoying being courted, but at the same time being cautious about oneself and one's reputation, because the worst thing that could ever happen to a lady would be the loss of her reputation.

"He is a good man, Hannah," Olivia said almost pleading, as she took her sister by the hand. "I can see it in his eyes."

Hannah smiled. "I can see a lot of things in yer eyes right now, and none of them is reasonable judge of character."

She said it so gravely, deepening her voice, that both sisters burst into a chuckle. A small group of people who were standing near them all stopped talking, glancing in their direction to see what the commotion was about.

At that moment, Hannah could see Alistair's mother walk over to her, excusing herself for the interruption in not so many words.

"Ye must come with me, Hannah, so I can introduce ye to our cousin Albert," she started, sliding her hand underneath Hannah's and gently leading her away from Olivia. "Did ye ken that he was an expert in bagpiper? He's got the chest the size of a mountain!"

Hannah almost chuckled aloud to this comparison but managed to bite her tongue as she shrugged her shoulders in Olivia's direction, allowing Alistair's mother to lead her away into the crowd, where once again, everyone wanted to congratulate her. She kept nodding and smiling, curtsying when it was required, until she stopped in front of the man she was supposed to meet with.

He was a pleasant old man, the age of Alistair's grandfather, and of the same character as him as well, which made the banter between these two men hilarious in more than one way. Hannah remained with them for a little while, then when she wished to speak to Olivia again, her sister was nowhere to be seen.

However, there was someone else that caught her eye, someone who made her heart dance, who made her think the unthinkable. Her husband was staring at her from across the ballroom, his gaze focused and profound. She felt naked under it.

Deciding to take control, she walked over to him. "Has the time for our second dance come yet?" she inquired, the corner of her lip threatening to burst into a smile, but she wanted to remain at least seemingly serious.

"Aye," he said immediately, grabbing her into his arms, surprising her with the intensity of his grip.

This time, their dance was more powerful, more passionate, although it was done without a single word spoken. Their eyes did all the talking. In fact, their eyes said words which their lips would never dare say. She knew that something was destined to happen that night. Something crucial.

What she didn't know was that her sister had the same conviction.