‘Is everything okay?’
It wasn’t. But taking his hand was easier than dealing with the emotions that were surging up inside her.
Later. She would deal with them later. But right now they could wait.
Turning to Farlan, she smiled. ‘I’m fine. Shall we go down?’
Beneath a white and gold ceiling lit by a vast number of chandeliers, the huge ballroom was already half-full of guests. She felt her pulse accelerate. It was silly in some ways, but there was something about a Highland ball. The clashing tartans, the sound of the pipes, the women in their long dresses and sashes and the men looking so handsome in their kilts.
And Farlan was the most handsome of them all.
The pipers were playing a jig—‘The Major Ian Stewart.’
‘Do you want to dance?’ she said suddenly.
Taking her hand, he smiled the smile that no one could resist. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
They danced until they were hot and breathless. And as the music started up again Farlan pulled her closer, his fingers brushing against her dress.
He had never seen her wear that colour before and he wondered why. It was perfect, the faded gold highlighting the delicacy of her fea
tures and picking out the burnished strands in her hair.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ he said, leaning into her.
It was incredibly noisy. Apart from the music there was a swell of voices, people shouting, talking, laughing.
He grabbed some drinks from a circling waiter and nudged her towards the edge of the ballroom, where it was quieter.
‘Having fun?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘Yes, are you?’
The eagerness in her voice made something pinch in his chest.
‘It’s a great party,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Dancing always makes me feel so happy.’
Her soft brown eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed pink. She looked young and carefree, and with a jolt he realised that she must have been so on edge before.
‘Seeing you happy makes me happy,’ he said gruffly.
His words fell away into the tune of ‘The Duke of Atholl’s Reel.’
Too happy.
‘Nia, I—’
‘Antonia! I was hoping to bump into you earlier. But there’s just so many people—’
‘Andrew—’
Nia turned towards a tall, handsome man in a busy red and blue tartan, her eyes lighting up with delight.
‘I did see you earlier, but then you disappeared into the throng.’
They kissed on both cheeks and then Nia gestured to Farlan. ‘Farlan, this is our host, the Marquess of Airlie—Andrew, this is Farlan Wilder. He’s—’ She stumbled.