30 ASK ME TO DANCE

"THIS IS A victory that will be celebrated by the Macleans of Mull for generations to come." Loch's voice traveled through the hall. He then held his goblet of wine aloft. "The day we called upon our friends, and they answered."

The clan-chief's gaze traveled across the faces of those seated around him, lingering upon Captain Rankin and then Malcolm Macleod. Loch's cheeks were flushed with drink, and his eyes shone. "There are some things that will never be forgotten … and if ye are ever in need, I will answer yer call without hesitation."

Silence fell. Staring back at Loch, Rankin's dark-blue eyes glinted, while next to him, Macleod's mouth curved into a smile.

Loch looked then to where Rae Maclean sat with his wife, Donalda, a few feet away. "Ye defended this fortress with the courage of a thousand men, Rae … but of course, yer captain is a fierce warrior." He glanced over at Jack then, who'd slung his arm around Tara's shoulders. The cousins' gazes fused, a silent message passing between them.

Observing them, Astrid smiled. She was relieved to see that Loch and Jack had mended things. The situation with Tara had soured their relationship, and Loch had brooded over things afterward. But no longer, it seemed.

Her brother glanced her way then. "I thank ye too, sister," he said, his voice roughening. "Yer stout heart and tenacity brought the Macleods to our side when we needed them most … and I'm relieved that ye are well enough to join us this eve." His attention flicked to Finn, and he lifted his goblet higher still. "And to ye, Finn … ye stayed by Astrid's side and plucked her from the deep. I'm forever in yer debt, my friend."

Loch and Finn's gazes fused, the moment drawing out before Finn's lips curved into a smile and he nodded .

Clearing his throat, Loch then focused on the two men seated at the far end of the laird's table: Logan Black of Croggan and Clyde Maclean of Breachacha. "And without yer bravery, we would never have held Dounarwyse long enough for help to arrive," he said, his voice roughening slightly. "Ye fought like wolves, even when hope was fading."

Both Logan and Clyde nodded to their clan-chief, acknowledging his heartfelt thanks.

Warmth filtered through Astrid as she witnessed the emotion, the pride, that gleamed in the chieftains' eyes. Their loyalty to Loch was steadfast, and she was glad that Logan and Clyde had lingered after the victory, even if Leod Maclean stormed back to Moy Castle in a fury after Loch had spared Bran Mackinnon's life.

In truth, Astrid had been surprised to learn of her brother's choice, although when Finn told her what had happened—how Tara had begged for him to show Bran mercy, and how Jack and Finn had both spoken up—she understood.

Bran Mackinnon was no threat to the Macleans, and what better punishment than to have him kneel to those his clan had sought to crush? And kneel he had, in the dirt, at Loch's feet. He'd sworn fealty and even kissed the ring that Loch offered him.

A new chapter had begun upon Mull, one that would hopefully bring prosperity and peace.

There were a couple more speeches after that—as Rae stood up and spoke a few words, and then Malcolm Macleod had some things to say—before the feasting eventually ended, the trestle tables were folded up, and the benches pushed back against the walls.

Minstrels, perched upon the gallery at one end of the hall, struck up a series of melodies, some rousing, others gentle—and soon, dancers took to the floor.

Watching Loch hold Mairi in his arms as they danced together in the center of the hall, their gazes fused, Astrid's breathing constricted. The connection between her brother and his wife was a powerful one, and now Mairi carried his bairn. A few yards away, Jack and Tara also danced, and the love that shone on their faces was just as evident.

Both couples had weathered storms to find happiness, and yet here they were .

A wistful smile curved Astrid's lips. She then glanced across at where Finn sat, a cup of ale in hand. He wore a brooding expression now, although when he met her eye, his sharp-featured face tensed.

Astrid's smile faded. She held his stare, warmth pooling in her belly. Ask me to dance.

"Are ye well enough to dance, Lady Astrid?"

Shifting her gaze away from Finn, Astrid met Malcolm's eye. She was tempted to tell the arrogant clan-chief's son that she was too weak to take to the floor, yet that would have been a lie. And curse it, she wanted to dance. The minstrels were playing a lovely lilting melody that made her toes tap.

It wasn't Malcolm she'd hoped would approach her, but since Finn seemed glued to his seat, she wouldn't turn other men away. And so, she nodded. "Aye, Malcolm."

Flashing her a grin, he rose to his feet and held out his hand. Taking it, she let him lead her to the floor, where they were soon caught up in the dancing.

"Ye are lovelier than a misty spring dawn, Astrid," Malcolm said as he twirled her gently around him. "Don't think I haven't noticed ye."

Astrid's heart thudded at these words. Lord help her, he wasn't wasting any time. Not knowing how to respond, she kept a polite smile fixed in place.

However, Malcolm didn't seem to need a response, for he pressed on. "I have lingered at Dounarwyse to be of help, aye … but I also wanted to ensure that ye were well."

"That is kind of ye," she murmured.

"And to ask ye to become my wife."

Astrid stifled a gasp at the blunt proposal. Malcolm was staring intently into her eyes now, supreme confidence upon his face. It dawned upon her then that he was sure she'd agree.

Moments passed, and Astrid decided that since he'd been so forthright, she would respond in kind. There was little point in being subtle with a man like Malcolm Macleod. "It is a fine offer, indeed … but I cannot accept," she replied. Malcolm's handsome face tensed, his smoke-grey eyes narrowing, but Astrid continued, "I am sorry."

A brittle silence fell between them then. They continued dancing, yet Malcolm's mood had soured. He wasn't a man used to being spurned, even gently .

"I suspect I have a rival," he eventually muttered. "Can I ask who the whoreson is?"

Astrid frowned, her anger quickening. Her lips parted then, as she readied herself to answer, to tell him that was no business of his. "Ye have danced with the lovely Astrid long enough, Macleod." A tall man with a rippling mane of blond hair stepped up then, forestalling her response. "Allow the rest of us a few moments in her company." Alec Rankin flashed Astrid a rakish smile before inclining his head. "May I?"

Astrid swallowed a sigh. As attractive as Alec was, she didn't want to dance with him any more than she had with Malcolm.

The man she did want to take to the floor with still sat at the laird's table. She hadn't glanced Finn's way again, yet she felt the weight of his gaze, all the same.

Irritation pierced her then. Let him stare .

Meeting the pirate captain's sea-blue gaze, Astrid smiled. "Of course."

Malcolm muttered something ungracious yet stepped back. Perhaps he thought Alec had stolen her heart, for Astrid hadn't answered his rude question. And she wouldn't either.

The minstrels struck up another gentle tune—which Astrid was grateful for, as her injured chest was still bandaged and tender—and they began to dance once more. To her surprise, for a pirate, Alec moved with confidence and grace.

However, the way his gaze never left her face made misgiving flutter in her belly. Dear God, not him too . Fate seemed intent on mocking her this eve.

"Yer brother made good on yer word," he said after a spell, gently catching her by the waist and drawing her against him as the dance dictated. "My coin purse is now considerably heavier."

"Aye, well, ye and yer crew earned every penny," Astrid replied. "I didn't think ye'd come to our aid … but if ye hadn't, I'm not sure the battle would have turned in our favor as it did."

The pirate captain's sensual mouth curved. "Yer gratitude is appreciated, Lady Astrid … but do ye remember what else ye promised me?"

Astrid's breathing caught.

Curse it, she thought he'd forgotten about that. "The kiss, ye mean?" she replied, feigning a lightness she didn't feel .

"Aye."

Her heart started to race, warmth rising to her cheeks. "Surely, my thanks is payment enough?"

Alec's smile turned wicked. "Oh, but a passionate embrace would make it all the sweeter."

"Kiss her, Rankin, and I'll knock yer teeth down yer throat."

Astrid's gaze cut right to see that Finn was no longer seated at the laird's table, nursing an ale. Instead, he'd pushed his way through the dancers and was striding toward them, cutting a swathe through the crowd.

"Finn," Astrid greeted him, a warning in her voice. "There's no need to be heavy-handed, I was—"

"About to give this rogue a kiss!"

Astrid drew herself up, heat igniting under her ribs. "No, I wasn't."

"Ye weren't?" The disappointment in Alec's voice was evident, even if he wore a smirk now. "Ye still haven't managed to leash that hound of yers, Lady Astrid."

Anger surged, hot and dangerous, through her. "He's not my hound ."

She was vaguely aware then that, around them, the music had died, and the dancing had stopped. Everyone, including her brother and her cousin and their wives, was staring at them.

Embarrassment flamed across her face, yet she straightened her spine.

A scene like this was the last thing she wanted, although she wasn't going to take the blame for Alec Rankin's brass neck or Finn's rudeness.

Cutting her attention back to Finn, she marked the anger on his face, the way his hazel eyes had gone a murderous green as he glared at the pirate. Alec's big body tensed in response, his brow furrowing.

Disappointment, tinged with a little disgust, swooped through Astrid, and she took a step back. She didn't understand him at all. What right did he have to be jealous? If the two of them wanted to pummel each other, let them. She wanted no part of it.

However, to her surprise, Finn's hand shot out and lightly caught her by the wrist, drawing her toward him .

His attention shifted to her face then, and his expression softened. "I owe ye yet another apology, lass," he said huskily. "I don't have Rankin's charm or Macleod's brash confidence … but I'm done hiding."