Page 36 of Scot of Deception
He dragged his gaze to Kathleen, where she sat next to the bride to be—surely at Fenella’s own insistence. Never before had Blaine seen such beauty. Kathleen was dressed in a deep emerald green that seemed to make her auburn hair and pale skin glow. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her blue eyes glinting as her gaze danced around the room. Blaine could stare at her forever—and that was precisely why he was forcing himself to look away more often than not, every time he caught himself.
She’s nae fer me. She’s too… pure.
It went deeper than the issues of their different backgrounds and the decade between them. Blaine was a killer; he had taken countless lives without mercy, without a second thought. His hands were tainted with blood.
When a young man approached the table and headed straight for Kathleen, Blaine pushed himself off the column and took a few faltering steps forward, uncertain of what to do. He watched as the man—handsome, with blonde hairtied neatly at the back of his neck and a smile full of promise—bowed to Kathleen and stretched out his hand as an invitation to dance. He took one breath, then another. And then, before he even knew it, he was pushing his way through the crowd, his feet carrying him over to the sprawling table at the far end of the room and his hands jostling those around him who inadvertently blocked his way.
Something coiled deep in his stomach, an ugly, vile thing, like a venomous serpent waiting to strike. It took Blaine a moment to identify it as jealousy, bubbling up inside him and threatening to spill over. He was not usually a jealous man. He had ambitions, like anyone else, but he didn’t resent those around him for having what he lacked—only for their ignorance of the world’s suffering. Now, though, his jealousy was like a vice around his chest, squeezing until he could hardly draw in a breath.
“Excuse me,” he said, placing a friendly, yet firm hand on the man’s shoulder. The man jumped at the unexpected touch, but then only gave a faint smile and took a step back when he saw the chill in Blaine’s gaze. “Miss Mackintosh, may I have a word?”
“I was actually just about tae ask her tae dance,” the man said.
Blaine turned to face him fully, standing up to his full height. There wasn’t much difference between them—the man was only an inch or so shorter than him, but Blaine took fulladvantage of it. To his credit, the man stood his ground but his gaze never sought out Kathleen again.
“Och aye,” he said. “I ken.”
A moment passed when the two of them were caught in a staring match, neither of them willing to back down. Blaine counted the beats of his heart—one, two, three—and then smiled to himself when the other bowed to Kathleen as he retreated.
“Perhaps later, Miss Mackintosh,” he said. “I’ll make sure tae return once ye are… unengaged.”
“Aye, ye dae just that,” Blaine said, his smile turning into a show of teeth.
The other man glanced between him and Kathleen as if waiting for her to call him back, but when she didn’t, he accepted his defeat. Blaine waited until he was gone, lost into the crowd, but before he could leave, she called to him.
“What was it that ye wanted?”
Blaine faltered, not knowing what to say. His only objective had been to get the man away from her and he hadn’t thought any further than that.
I should tell her tae mind the risks o’ bein’ around so many people.
“May I have this dance?” his mouth decided to say instead.
Instantly, he regretted the words but it was too late now to take them back. Kathleen’s surprise was evident in the widening of her eyes, the slight parting of her lips, but it was only momentary. Once she recovered from the surprise of it, she stood and rounded the table, taking Blaine’s hand before he could even offer it to her.
“O’ course ye may,” she said with a soft smile, and Blaine was overtaken by the simplicity of her tone.
She spoke as if the two of them dancing together was the most natural thing in the world.
Kathleen’s hand was soft in Blaine’s own. His fingers curled lightly around her palm, holding it like a precious, fragile thing—like fine porcelain, which he had never held before. As he led her through the crowd to the middle of the room, where the other nobles twirled and hopped along to the music, his heart beat like a war drum and his lungs refused to fill up with air. There were too many people around. The band was too loud and he feared his palms would be damp with sweat soon. Even the smell of food and wine seemed oppressive as it hung heavy in the air around him.
It was the same heightening of senses he experienced right before battle. And just like before a battle, he took a moment to breathe and center himself.
This is only a dance. It doesnae have tae be anything more than this.
He couldn’t make it any more than this.
As he and Kathleen took their place among the other dancers, Blaine placed a gentle hand on her waist and pulled her close. Kathleen looked up at him with those blue eyes that reminded Blaine of the deepest ocean, her breath ghosting over his neck like the gentlest breeze, and it took him a second to remember why they were standing there in the first place.
Thankfully, he knew how to dance. It was a skill he had picked up along the way, knowing it would come in handy—and it had, more times than he could count. Whenever he needed to blend in among the nobles, dancing and table manners were the first things he minded. And now, with Kathleen in his arms, swaying with her to the rhythm of the music, he was glad he had put in the effort.
In that moment, it seemed to him that there was no one else in the room but them. As they took their first steps around the dance floor, reality slowly melted away until there wasnothing but Kathleen’s gaze, the sound of her laughter, the soft curve of her lips as she smiled at him. The thought of sharing such intimate moments with her had scared him half to death only earlier that day, but now being so close to her felt natural, like it was always meant to be.
Was it the same for her, he wondered? Did she feel this unnamed thing between them as much as he did, as palpably?
As good as he was at reading people, desire clouded Blaine’s judgement. Concern gripped him at the thought that his attraction was so great, it led him to erroneously assume Kathleen felt the same thing, vice-like and maddening. He wished he could ask her; he wished he could approach her as he approached any other woman.
As he led Kathleen around the dance floor, she followed his steps with grace, like a swan gliding over the water. No words were exchanged between them—none were needed. Blaine surrendered to the enjoyment of the moment, even if it was only brief, ephemeral. If this was all he could have of her, then he would engrave every moment in his mind so that he would never forget.
