Highland Rogue (21 page)

“Aye,” Ewan nodded, taking another long sip of his tea. “I just might.”

If he could convince Claire to come as his guest.

“You want me to go
where?”

Claire’s cast went awry, sending her line flailing in Ewan’s direction. The hook snagged his cloth cap and jerked it off his head into the river.

He let out a whoop of surprise followed by great rolling gusts of laughter that threatened to knock him off his feet.

“If ye’d rather not come to the ceilidh with me, just say so, lass!” he gasped between heaves of laughter. “Ye don’t have to try and drown me!”

Suddenly the mild morning air felt icy cold against her blazing cheeks. A dozen years seemed to have melted away, and she was sixteen again. Only this time the handsome young gillie was paying attention to her.

Reeling her line back toward shore, she masked her flustered feelings with a tart answer. “You don’t look in much danger of drowning to me. And if you had taken a tumble into the water, it would have served you right for ruining my cast by popping a question out of the blue like that!”

“Popping the question?” Ewan chuckled as he waded into the shallows to retrieve his cap. “I could understand
that
throwing yer cast off, or making you want to drown me for my presumption. But I was only inviting ye to a party in the village.”

He disengaged her hook from the sturdy tweed, then shook the cap off and put it back on his head. “It’s to celebrate the wedding of a couple of my old schoolmates. Geordie and Winnie used to fight like cats and dogs when they were younger. Almost as bad as ye and me at that age.”

His words made Claire fumble her fly rod. Did the man realize what he’d said?

He was certainly in a chipper mood this morning. A good night’s sleep seemed to have banished the strange awkwardness that had possessed him so suddenly last night. Or perhaps it was being back on the river with a rod in his hand. The friendly gurgle of the water seemed to invite a person to cast her worries off and let the current float them away.

Spellbound, Claire watched the lithe grace of his line whisking out and back over the water, tempting the hungry fish to snap at his lure. Was he casting bait for her, too, with this tempting invitation and his provocative remarks? And if so … what was he fishing
for?

The past several days had been the happiest of her life. Even the knowledge that it could end at any moment did not spoil her enjoyment of their time together, but added a sweet poignancy that made her savor it all the more.

But beneath the surface of her happiness, a treacherous current of yearning tugged at her. The yearning for something more than a few days of make-believe. With his charm, Ewan made her want it. With his kindness, he made her believe she might deserve it.

“Do wish your friends every happiness for me,” she said when she had finally mastered her voice. “But please don’t feel obliged to cart me along. You’re here as my guest, not as a hired companion.”

Ewan turned his head to answer, but at that moment a fish decided it liked the looks of his dry fly, and latched on. Claire set aside her own rod to fetch the net. Then she perched herself on a large rock to watch the fight.

A strenuous battle it was, too, on both sides. More than once Claire thought the fish must have got away, only to see the line stretch taut again. More than once she lunged forward with the net, only to watch a silvery form slither out of the shallows to fight on.

By the time he landed the creature, all twenty squirming pounds of it, Ewan’s face was flushed and his forehead beaded with sweat. He subsided onto the rock where Claire had been sitting to watch him.

“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?” He pulled off his cap and dragged his forearm across his brow. “This shouldn’t be an obligation … for either of us. I’ve enjoyed yer company the past few days. Am I fooling myself to believe ye enjoyed mine?”

Claire kept her eyes fixed on the river, not daring to meet his discerning gaze in case hers should betray her. But she could not bring herself to tell him any less than the truth. “You aren’t fooling yourself, Ewan. I’ve had a perfectly marvelous time with you.”

She congratulated herself on keeping her voice steady.

“Well, that’s fine, then.” He lunged sideways, catching her hand in his. “We’ll have some more marvelous time tonight. Have ye ever been to a Highland ceilidh?”

There was something different about the way he held her hand. Or was she only fooling herself? Either way, she could not shake off his touch.

“It’s a party, isn’t it? Like the gillies’ ball Father used to give at the end of the hunting season?”

“Aye, something like that.” Ewan chuckled. “But louder and faster, with more to drink.”

“Will there be dancing?” From her fifteenth summer until the year he’d gone away, she had hoped with all her heart that Ewan Geddes would ask her for a dance at the gillies’ ball.

“Eightsome reels until yer feet ache.” He spoke in a coaxing tone that Claire would have found difficult to resist … if she’d wanted to. “Singing and stories and toasts. Piping and fiddling. Cakes and ale and maybe something stronger.”

This might well be their last evening together. Part of her wanted to spend it alone with him. Perhaps that was not the best course, though. With a crowd of other people around, she might not be so tempted to say or do something to betray her feelings for him.

“What do ye say, then?” Ewan winked and gave her hand a squeeze.

“You’re certain it won’t make your friends uncomfortable to have me there—the Lady of Strathandrew?”

This time she watched his face carefully, to make certain he was telling the truth. She’d cheerfully let him go without her rather than spoil the wedding celebration. Well, perhaps not
cheerfully …

He mulled over her question, and she could tell what his answer would be. She steeled herself to insist he go without her.

“It might be a wee bit awkward at first,” he admitted. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Claire stifled a sigh. At least he hadn’t lied to her. She sensed he never would.

“But,” he added, “that’s apt to be as much on my account as yers. After ten years over in America, I’m a bit of a stranger in these parts, myself.”

“So you want me for company in case nobody else will dance with you?” She couldn’t resist teasing him.

“It’s not like that. Anybody who comes in goodwill is welcome at a ceilidh. After a few dances and a pint or two, everybody’s yer friend, anyway.”

That had a vastly appealing sound.

“In that case, Mr. Geddes—” Claire rose from their rock perch to bob a little curtsy “—I’d be honored to go with you.”

Ewan shifted his grip on her hand and brought the backs of her fingers to his lips. “The honor … and the pleasure … will be all mine, lass.”

“It doesn’t look like we’ve anything to worry about.” Ewan leaned over on the driver’s bench of the small pony cart to whisper in Claire’s ear. “The ceilidh’s already started. I doubt anybody will even notice we’re here.”

A spate of rain in the afternoon had given way to a fine, warm evening, so the festivities were being held out-of-doors. Lanterns hung from tree branches and perched on improvised tables, though it was not yet dark enough to need them. The hearty smells of fish, meat and bread wafted on the evening air along with the rollicking music of several fiddles, some tin whistles and a hand drum.

Since the bride’s father was the local brewer and tavern keeper, ale flowed freely, while two sets of dancers whirled through an eightsome reel. Ewan knew the men would pass around whiskey flasks to supplement the refreshments later on.

Most of the Strathandrew staff had already arrived and were taking an eager part in the festivities. Claire’s little Welsh maid was dancing with Jockie McMurdo, while Glenna spun around on the arm of Alec, the footman. When she caught sight of Ewan and Claire together, she shot him a knowing grin.

Clutching Claire’s hand, Ewan threaded his way through the crowd in search of the bride and groom.

“Ewan Geddes, we heard you were home from America!” Winnie pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Is this just a visit, or are ye planning to stay?”

“I meant it just to be a visit, but now that I’m back … I don’t know.”

“Geordie, love!” Winnie reached over and tugged on the coat sleeve of her bridegroom. “Look, it’s Ewan, come all the way from America! Isn’t it good to see him again?”

“That it is, lass.” Geordie wrapped one arm around his bride’s hips, while extending his free hand toward Ewan. “We’re glad to have ye here to celebrate with us, Ewan.”

“I hope ye don’t mind. I brought a friend, Claire Talbot. I’m staying at Strathandrew as her guest.”

The newlyweds gave Claire a warm welcome, inviting her to have something to eat or join in the dancing.

“Aye.” Ewan almost had to shout to make himself heard above the fiddle music and the general hubbub. “Dancing sounds like a fine idea. We’ll work up an appetite for that good food. Geordie, ye’re a luckier man than ye deserve after the way ye tormented this poor lass while we were at school.”

He slipped a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, knotted to hold several gold coins. He wished he could give them more, but knew this would be all they would take without embarrassment.

“A wee something for a wedding present, Winnie.” He dropped the little bundle into her hand. “Don’t let this rascal put upon ye, now.”

The music came to an end on a long drawn out chord, after which the dancers applauded, then dispersed, flocking to the refreshment tables. The musicians each took a quick drink, then raised their instruments again.

Ewan nodded toward the broad, flat bit of ground where fresh eightsomes were marshaling. “Dance, Claire?”

“I should like that very much.” In the soft light of the setting sun, her smile took on a special glow. Did this dance mean something more to her than he knew?

He had no time to ask, for they were soon swept up in the spirited music and movement of one reel, then another. Every time his hand came in contact with hers, it felt different than the other lasses’. The skin of his palm tingled, as if warmed suddenly after coming in from the cold. When the steps of the dance separated them, his gaze followed her with jealous intensity. He begrudged every moment it took for Claire to find her way back into his arms.

When Captain MacLeod, the bride’s uncle, made bold to claim a dance with Claire, Ewan surrendered her hand reluctantly. Someone pressed a mug of cold ale into his hand, after which he retreated to watch from a distance.

“Ye look like ye’re having a good time.” Glenna suddenly appeared at his side, her voice barely audible above the music.

“Oh, aye.” Ewan tipped up his mug for another drink, not taking his eyes off Claire.

“I’ve never seen Miss Talbot so lively.” Something in Glenna’s tone warned Ewan she was making more than a casual observation. “She’s aye bonny when she smiles and her eyes get that sparkle.”

He nodded.

“I always liked her,” said Glenna, “for all she’s quieter than her sister. The way she speaks to the servants, ye get the feeling she respects what ye do, without making a big fuss.”

“And?” If the lass had something to say, Ewan wished she’d spit it out. This reel was almost over, and he wanted to be well placed to claim Claire again in case one of the other lads took a notion to dance with her.

“I’m thinking I should have kept my mouth shut about her being sweet on ye. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I thought ye must have known.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Ewan drained his ale, then handed the empty mug to Glenna.

She grabbed him by the shirtsleeve before he could get away. “Be kind to her, Ewan, ye hear me? Don’t go amusing yerself with the lady.”

Colm MacLeod’s ale was good and strong, and Ewan had downed his pint fast. His head and his heart felt full to the brim with froth.

“I promise, lass.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave a hearty squeeze. “I hope ye have no objections if I let her amuse herself with me.”

He didn’t stay to find out, for the reel was winding down to its final bars.

The captain bowed to Claire as the music ended. “Would ye care for another round, Miss Talbot? Ye step as light as thistledown!”

“Why, thank you, Captain.” Claire fanned her flushed face with her hand and answered in a breathless voice. “But I believe I must rest and have a drink before I do any more dancing.”

Ewan seized his cue to cut in. “Can I get ye a mug of ale, lass? Or cider, maybe?”

She turned toward the sound of his voice with a smile and a look that set him dizzy. “Cider please, if it wouldn’t be too much bother.”

“No bother at all.” He drew her away from the dancing toward the table where drinks were being dispensed.

Claire subsided against him. Ewan could feel her heart pounding, and it made his pound faster. “I haven’t danced like that in years. I’m so glad we came.”

“I’m glad
ye
came.” He had almost enough ale in him to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since last night. When Glenna had made him see his past … and perhaps his future, in a whole new light.

They finished their drinks in time to join the next reel. After another vigorous spell of dancing, they refreshed themselves with both food and drink. Then they danced some more.

“Ye’re just in time,” said Winnie’s sister awhile later, when she passed Ewan yet another pint for himself and a mug of cider for Claire. “After this next reel, they’re going to have the toasts, so save a bit of yer drink.”

Ewan promised they would. Then he found them an empty bench, under the broad boughs of an old oak tree, where they could rest their feet while they watched the festivities. Claire tossed back her cider so fast he was obliged to fetch her another for the toasts.

“Go a little easier on this one, lass,” he warned when he placed the refilled mug in her waiting hands.

“I’ll try.” She took a sip that lengthened into a substantial drink. “But I’m thirsty, and this is so refreshing!”