Scot of My Dreams (21 page)

Honestly, I was glad. I didn’t need the laird’s parents sizing up my relationship with Bryce and coming to any erroneous conclusions. Those few moments immediately before dinner when Bryce spoke to me echoed again and again in my mind. Was there a subtext beneath his fairly conventional comments about my appearance?

I knew he wanted me. No question about that. But did his feelings run any deeper? What would happen if I actually told him how I felt? That kind of bold action on my part would be a risky roll of the dice. But what was the worst that could happen? If he was embarrassed, or even worse, if he felt sorry for me, my humiliation would be temporary. I could cut and run…no harm, no foul.

The more wine I consumed, the more my tentative plan made sense. Maybe Bryce was waiting for a sign from me. I was a guest in his house. Maybe he was being careful, because he didn’t want to be accused of seducing me with empty promises. Good grief. Now my hands were shaky and my skin was damp and warm.

What would happen if I told him tonight that I was falling in love with him?

The notion spun around and around in my head until I was dizzy. Suddenly, Bryce’s gaze met mine, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. He smiled at me like a hungry predator waiting to pounce. Or at least it seemed that way to my fevered imagination.

I set down my wine glass and picked up the water goblet. Plans of this magnitude required a clear head. I scooped up the last bite of my shortbread and whipped cream and swallowed it past the sudden lump in my throat.

As the dessert course finished, Bryce stood, clinked his glass with a fork, and silenced the room. “Thank you all for coming tonight and for your splendid generosity. I hope you’ll stay as long as the wine and candles hold out.” After a burst of laughter, he recognized the couple who had made the largest donation and handed them a beautiful silver chalice.

With the formalities concluded, the tables were abandoned, and the dancing began. After a quick trip to the ladies’ room, I found a small bench half-hidden behind a potted plant and sat down to watch the action.

Abigail found me almost immediately and scolded me, although she joined me on the banquette. “You’re supposed to dance,” she said.

“With whom? I’m more the wallflower type. Meeting strangers isn’t my strong suit. What about you?”

“Forget me for a minute. Haven’t you seen how the men are looking at you? You’re exotic, Willow. You’re tall and graceful, and you have that long, swan-like neck. You could be a young Audrey Hepburn. Not to mention your magnolia complexion and your Southern accent. Let me introduce you to someone.”

I wanted to dance. In theory. But the sum total of my experience involved cranking up a Taylor Swift song on the radio and twirling around my small living room. I didn’t know how to do the real thing.

“I appreciate the pep talk. But I’m having fun, I swear.”

“If you’re waiting for Bryce, I’m sad to tell you he has a whole list of courtesy dances to get out of the way.”

“I’m
not
waiting for Bryce,” I protested.
Liar, liar pants on fire.

She gave me a knowing look and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. “You’ll like this one,” she said. “It’s a traditional reel. I’ll stand beside you. All you have to do is follow along.”

Against my better judgment, I allowed Abigail to drag me onto the dance floor. I noticed that the more mature portion of the crowd was sitting this one out. Abby found us a spot in a group of twelve and put me beside her. “It’s easy,” she said. “Have fun with it.”

I would have had more fun if Bryce had been one of the six men facing us, but then again, maybe this way he wouldn’t see me being uncoordinated and gawky.

When the music began, I discovered something shocking. Apparently, deep down inside me there was a bit of Scottish choreography waiting to escape. My toe tapped, my heart raced, and I found myself laughing aloud as we whirled and crisscrossed the floor.

In the midst of sheer euphoria, I finally managed to let go of my worry about the salon, at least for a few minutes.

Ours was only one of a half dozen set of dancers. I concentrated on Abigail and mimicked her every move. The men who danced with us for mere seconds at a time were charming and friendly. I forgot my fear of looking foolish and instead, lost myself in the intricate steps of the reel.

Though I wanted to peek and locate Bryce, I feared losing my place in the dance if my attention wandered. So I devoted myself to the experience. This was why Hayley and McKenzie and I had come to Scotland. This was why we agreed to split up. This was me becoming part of a community and not simply a tourist.

By the time the dance ended, Abby and I were both hot and thirsty. The tables had been completely cleared of food and dishes at this point, and were now set up with various drinks, including water and some kind of light citrus punch.

I opted for water, though I would have killed for an icy glass of fresh-brewed tea. We stood side by side, watching a new group of dancers assemble. I cleared my throat. “So tell me about this Roger fellow.”

Abigail kept her eyes focused across the room. “He’s a friend,” she said. “A longtime friend.”

“He told me the two of you went out once upon a time.”

She nodded. “We did. But it was a million years ago.”

“Any sparks left?”

“Willow!” She shot me a panicked look and fiddled with the waistband of her dress. “I’m not ready to think about things like that.”

“When will you be?”

I didn’t know why I was pushing her. After all, I was the one being cowardly about my feelings for Bryce.

At last, she half-turned to face me and lowered her voice. “I feel disloyal,” she muttered.

“It’s been three years,” I said gently. “That’s a long time to be alone.”

Her eyes glistened with sudden tears. “I adored my husband.”

“Of course you did. But you weren’t buried with him. Surely he wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “The dear man would scold me six ways to Sunday if he knew I’ve hidden away for so long. He always lived life as if there was no tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a fun way to approach things.” What did I know about it?

The woman who had become very special to me during my short tenure in Scotland got a mischievous look in her eyes. “Here’s the deal, Willow. The band will be shifting now to the slower, more romantic numbers. What you in America might call slow dancing.”

I nodded. “Yes. I know what you mean.”

“Well then, lassie…Here’s my dare. I’ll ask Roger to dance with me if you’ll do the same with Bryce.”

She had neatly boxed me into a corner. Knowing full well that I thought she should spread her wings, she had offered to do just that. But only if I approached the Laird of Dunvarstone and followed her example.

I set my glass on a tray and nodded jerkily. “But what if he’s still in the midst of his courtesy dances, as you call them?”

“He’s not,” she said. “He’s standing across the room watching to make sure I don’t pass you off to one of your many admirers.”

“You’re joking.”

“See for yourself.”

It was true. Bryce was in the midst of a group of people, but his laser-gaze pinned me from a distance. The knowledge that he wanted to make love to me lent wings to my feet. As though hovering above the dance floor watching someone who was not at all me, I made my way in and around the milling guests until I stood at Bryce’s elbow. “Hi,” I said breathlessly, the word barely a whisper. “Would you care to dance?”

He tucked my arm in his, casually holding me close as he finished whatever conversational topic required his input. Then he smiled at the small group. “If you all will excuse me, I’d like to dance with this pretty lady. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, abashed. “I shouldn’t have interrupted.” Abigail had kept her part of the bargain and was already dancing with Roger.

Bryce nuzzled the top of my head. “I’m glad you did. They were beating an old drum.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s not important. I want to concentrate on you.” He swept me onto the dance floor with one hand at my waist, and the other on my back. Against my bare skin, his fingers were warm and firm.

Suddenly, I recognized the tempo. A waltz. “I don’t know how to waltz,” I muttered. “Let me take a rain check on this number.”

“No. Sorry. All you have to do is follow my lead. I promise not to step on your toes.”

Waltzing with a handsome man while wearing a barely-there dress does things to a woman’s equilibrium. I had read somewhere that when the waltz was first introduced in England years ago, it was considered scandalous. Young debutantes were not even allowed to participate.

Now I understood why. It was like making love standing up. My partner’s leg moved between mine as we whirled and spun and followed the music. Light and sound and color surrounded us in dizzying circles.

Bryce’s firm hand on my bare back held me close to his chest. I felt light and graceful in his arms. The gangly giraffe transformed by the handsome prince. “You do this very well,” I said breathlessly.

He grinned, his gaze on my mouth as if he were going to kiss me right there in front of God and everyone he knew. “My parents loved to entertain. From the time I was a child of six or seven, my father taught me how to be a gentleman, as he called it.”

“You must miss them very much.”

“Aye. But they visit twice a year. And Abigail and I go there. My mother has issues with her lungs, issues that were being exacerbated by the Scottish climate. Since she has family in Italy, it seemed like the perfect solution when she and my father decided they needed to move.”

I lapsed into silence, content to live in the moment. Bryce and I danced as one, despite my lack of experience. In his arms, I was able to put aside what had happened back home. The only thing that existed was the music and the two of us.

At last, like all good things, the song came to an end. Bryce steered me toward the drink table. Handing me a cup of punch, he drained his and asked for another. The twenty-something server pouring the drinks seemed dazzled by Bryce’s charisma. Poor girl. I knew how she felt.

“I need a break,” Bryce whispered. “Follow me.”

He surveyed the crowd to make sure no one was headed our way. Then, slowly, he steered me to a corner of the room and out through a doorway that accessed the gardens. We were not the only ones who’d had the idea, but Bryce had the advantage of knowing his way around in the dark.

The area lit with white lights gave way to shadowy corners and wrought iron benches tucked away beneath sheltering trees. My date led me with confidence, my hand tucked firmly in his. The night air felt cool on my overheated skin.

At last, when we were out of earshot of the other partygoers, Bryce pulled me down beside him on a seat under an apple tree. I remembered my grandmother having an old vinyl forty-five of the Andrews sisters’ iconic wartime song. In those lyrics, the lovers were parted by an ocean and a mighty world conflict. Maybe that would end up being my theme song when I got back to Georgia.

Please, Bryce. Don’t sit in the garden with anyone else but me.…

Oddly, he didn’t touch me once we were still. We sat in silence, enjoying the balmy summer evening. I hadn’t brought my shawl with me, but Bryce’s body generated enough heat to keep me warm—that and my nervous energy.

Even out here I caught snatches of melodies the band was playing. As far as romantic ambience went, this particular moment combined all the right ingredients. Handsome, sexy leading man. Romantic isolation. Fragrant garden. And a woman yearning to be kissed.

Still, Bryce sat in silence.

At last, I couldn’t stand it any more. Maybe I should blurt out my confession and see what happened.
I love you, Bryce. Or I’m at least seventy percent there.
I told myself I hadn’t fallen all the way. That thirty percent was all that stood between me and utter heartbreak.

I bit my lip, feeling sad and a bit homesick despite the amazing evening I was experiencing. “So who were those people you were talking to…right before we danced?” I asked. I needed an icebreaker question. This was as good as any.

He sighed. “’Tis a group of folks who want me to run for public office. They seem to think I could lead the Highlands in a progressive direction without sacrificing all the things we hold dear about the place.”

“I see.” Stunned, I tried to process this new piece of information. Earlier, I had come close to convincing myself that Bryce and I would make a good couple, assuming he felt about me the way I did about him. I’d even decided to confess the truth about my infatuation and ask him if he saw any hope for the two of us to have a permanent relationship.

At the time, it had seemed like the mature, proactive thing to do. Now, I felt foolish. I knew my talents and capabilities. Serving as a political spouse was not one of them. And I seriously doubted whether a man running for public office could afford to nip back and forth across the ocean for booty calls with his American friend.

Besides, Bryce himself had told me as much when I asked him if he might ever visit me in Georgia. He’d said no. He had responsibilities that tied him to Dunvarstone. I understood it, even if I didn’t like it.

He turned to face me. “I don’t know what to do about you, Willow.”

It made me feel better to hear the frustration in his voice. At least I wasn’t the only one with emotional heartburn.

“Here’s a thought,” I said lightly. “Let’s pretend we met for the first time tonight. I’ll be your Cinderella and you can be my handsome prince. Only instead of my carriage turning into a pumpkin at the end of the evening, I’ll end up in the prince’s bed.”

Finally, Bryce smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “I like where this is headed.”

“Unless of course, your guests stay forever. I suppose it would be bad form to kick them out now.”

He chuckled. “I have no problem with turning the lights out at midnight. I think they would get the hint.”

“Bad laird.”