Page 53 of Highlander's Wild Lass
“I’ve yet to see the ritual sacrifice, or the herds be paraded through the twin fires,” she said, gripping his hand tighter as he lifted her up and spun her.
“Ye must have come late. The parade happened around noon and the herdsman brought them back to their farms. They begged for an earlier parade after last year. Half of them nearly led their folk into the fire due to drink.”
Celestia let out a delicious little laugh. “I do remember that. Someone’s hair caught fire, right?”
Anthony nodded solemnly. “James FitzMichael. The hair never grew back in that spot.”
Celestia clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Shame.”
“A damn shame,” he said with a laugh.
The music slowed and he felt Celestia dropping his hand. He didn’t want to part from her just yet. “Will ye get a drink with me?” he said in a rush.
Celestia nodded and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to the casks.
“Whisky or mead?”
“Mead, please. I’ve been samplin’ far too much of whisky in the last weeks, I’m sick of it.”
“A Scotswoman sick of the whisky?” Anthony said, filling two tankards with mead. “That’s some sort of sin.”
She took the tankard, throwing him a sarcastic look. “Let the devil take me, then.”
He looked around, seeing his clan enjoying themselves. A few more dancers had joined in when the bagpipes began playing again, and a few games of cards were happening near the tables. The smells of food and firewood wafted through the air, and all he wanted to do was be alone with Celestia.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand once more. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”
“Nae too far,” she said, as they walked further away from the festival. “We daenae want to be caught on our own.”
“Yer reputation cannae be ruined if yer already betrothed to the man yer alone with.”
“We havenae announced anythin’,” Celestia said as they came to the collection of empty mead barrels and whisky casks. “Have ye had much to drink, Anthony?”
“Aye, I have,” he told her, lifting her up and setting her down on one of the barrels, mindful of where he put his hands, although wishing he didn’t have to be. “It’s a holiday after all.”
“It is a holiday,” she echoed, the smile returning to her face and lighting her features. The light from the twin fires still glowed from this distance and it reflected in her eyes, sending chills through his body. It reminded him of how she looked, laying on the floor of his study in front of his fireplace.
“Anthony?”
He blinked and focused on her. “Aye?”
She held her tankard with both hands in her lap, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and said, “I want to apologize for how I treated ye when we were younger. When ye first tried to court me.”
Anthony almost didn’t believe he heard her correctly, but the guilt on her face was enough. “Please daenae, there’s nay need. I was a determined fool back then.”
She laughed heartily. “And ye are nae now? Askin’ me to wed ye at least a handful of times nearly out of the blue.”
“Och, it wasnae out of the blue, lass.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Well,” he said, knowing the drink was helping him along. “I’ve always felt… somethin’ for ye, but I learned to keep my distance.”
“Oh.”
“I wanted to, trust me, but I thought it better that way.”
He moved so that he was leaning against the barrel she sat on, not wanting to be far from her. The warmth from the mixture of whisky and mead made his arms feel wobbly and all he could think about was reaching out and touching her.
