Page 63 of A Highland Bride Taken
“Me Laird,” Lady MacLennan greeted. “‘Tis an honor to be invited to yer home.”
“Ye are family now, Lady MacLennan,” he told her with a nod.
“I do hope me daughter isnae giving ye any trouble.” Lady MacLennan cast a glance at Mabel. “I ken she lacks in many ways, but she has a good heart.”
“She pleases me greatly, Lady MacLennan,” he answered honestly. “I am happy to have her.”
Lady MacLennan smiled happily.
At that moment, she resembled his wife strongly. He had a vague picture of what she would look like in her older years and felt a smile tease the corners of his lips.
“Forgive the interruption, but I want to dance with me wife,” he announced.
He liked the way his wife’s eyebrows shot up and a flush crawled up her neck to her cheeks, painting her in such a lovely hue.
He knew she loved to dance, and there was an itch under his skin that he needed to rid himself of. There were still a few dances left, so there was ample time to do so.
He held out his hand to her, and she took it, hiding her face.
Her mother smiled broadly and stepped away.
“Have I embarrassed ye?” he asked, seeing how she was still red in the face. “Ye hid yer face when I asked ye to dance.”
“Nay,” she answered, lifting her eyes to his. “I am surprised, is all. I didnae ken ye would ask me.”
“Why would I nae?” He frowned in confusion.
“Ye didnae speak to me all evening.”
He nodded thoughtfully and gently squeezed her hand.
“But have I made ye happy?” he asked, not knowing why he wanted to hear her answer.
“Aye.”
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Mabel sensed something was bothering her husband, even if he tried to hide it. His body was riddled with tension, which she could feel in his hands as he held her. She watched him eye the dancers and wondered if he would benefit from some time away from the watchful eyes of the guests.
Perhaps he was not one for socializing, just like she was.
“Would ye like to take the air, husband?” she asked softly. “We could go to the gardens if it pleases ye.”
“Do ye nae want to dance?” He stopped at the edge of the makeshift dance floor.
Couples moved around them in an array of colors, and Mabel wanted strongly to be a part of them, but she knew her husband was only using the dance as a distraction from whatever had been bothering him.
She had noticed him watching her with a frown most of the evening, just as she had been watching him, but she could not understand why. The cèilidh had progressed smoothly, and they had yet to stumble upon any difficulties, yet he had looked unsettled all the while.
She had wondered briefly if she had perhaps displeased him, but she had not had the opportunity to be alone with him to ask. She had been swarmed with guests, all wanting to meet the new Lady Muir, and she had had to socialize, which she had found easier to do than usual.
She had found herself fluttering about the room and offering greetings, the words flowing easily out of her. She had been pleased by the development, but seeing the grim look on her husband’s face dimmed her joy.
“I would love to dance, but I can tell ye are burdened,” she murmured. “I can hardly enjoy a dance when it will only burden ye further. Is it something I can help ye with? Have I done something to displease ye?”
He smiled at her and squeezed her hand gently. “Dinnae worry, wife. Ye have done naught to displease me,” he assured her. “And ‘tis too beautiful an evening to be burdened. Let us dance; I ken how much ye love to dance.”
She eyed him briefly and then nodded, allowing him to lead her back onto the dance floor just as the next dance was about to begin.
