Page 82 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“Aye,” the woman said, with the patient indulgence reserved for children and fools.

Roy purchased a basket from her. Donaldina waited until they were several stalls away.

“Why did ye buy that?”

“She frightened me.”

“She is eighty years old.”

“I have faced younger enemies.”

As evening approached, lanterns were lit throughout the square. Their warm glow caught upon the ribbons overhead and deepened the colors of the merchants’ awnings. The air grew colder, but the crowd only pressed closer around the fires.

Tables were moved aside. Musicians gathered upon a low platform near the town hall, tuning fiddles while villagers cleared the center of the square.

Donaldina saw the festival steward approaching and immediately distrusted his cheerful expression.

“Me lady. Me laird.” He bowed. “It is time for the opening dance.”

Donaldina looked toward the empty space. “Nae.”

The steward blinked.

Roy stood beside her. “It is tradition.”

“So is winter fever. We neednae encourage everything our ancestors endured.”

The steward attempted a smile. “The dance is opened by the laird and his betrothed.”

Across the square, people had begun watching. Donaldina considered walking directly back to Dun Ard. But then, Roy extended his hand. He did not command. He merely waited, with his palm open between them.

The lantern light softened the scar along his jaw. His expression held amusement, patience, and something quieter beneath both. Donaldina placed her hand in his.

“One dance,” she warned.

“I wouldnae dare ask for two.”

The crowd parted as they entered the center of the square. The musicians began. Donaldina expected Roy to move with the rigid caution of a man accustomed to swords rather than dances. Instead, his hand settled securely at her waist, and he guided her into the first turn with such ease that she nearly missed her step.

She looked up at him. “Ye… can dance?”

“A wee bit.”

“Ye lied.”

“I said I hadnae danced in years.”

“Ye allowed me tae believe that meant ye were incapable.”

He grinned. “Ye form conclusions very quickly.”

“I shall correct this one by informing everyone that Laird MacIver has spent his years at war practicing reels.”

Roy turned her beneath his arm. Her skirts swept across the stones.

“Dae that,” he said, “and I shall tell them how ye assaulted me at a well.”

Donaldina smiled despite herself. “Nae one would believe ye.”