Page 94 of A Rogue in Firelight
“I will give it to them for your sake.”
“Thank you—but you do not want more lessons?”
“I will miss them dearly,” he said in a wry tone. “But you would have more time to write, and I could attend to some matters.”
“Such as shipping the whisky?”
“Finding the whisky,” he clarified. “The Muir lads will count what we have, and then it will be transported.”
“Even so, we still have time for lessons.”
He tipped his head, curious. “Do you want to continue?”
“I enjoy our time together.” She looked down, tracing the pattern in the oak.
“So do I. But must we devote time to stodgy old books on manners?”
“Perhaps not.” She laughed softly. “It will be useful to introduce you at Mrs. Beaton’s cèilidh first. You would have some acquaintances at the royal event.”
“This wee cèilidh is a risk, lass. The MacGregor chief, Atholl, Huntly, and others may question my introduction as Darrach.”
“Pitlinnie did not question it. He seemed impressed.”
“He is easily impressed.”
“I am a bit nervous that he might mention our betrothal.” She twisted her mouth.
“He might. But it may serve as a distraction if we go forward with this ruse.”
“If?” She frowned. “You cannot change your mind now.”
Ronan blew out a breath. Her question hit the heart of the matter. At first, he had resisted the idea, then reluctantly saw its advantages. It was only one day, he told himself. But his introduction at a local gathering was more of a problem. He sighed. He was in the thick of it for his friends. For Ellison. He could not back down now; she was right in that.
“I did give my word.”
“Let us finish our tutoring, Darrach,” she murmured. “There is not much time.”
“Three days. What next, Miss Graham? I have absorbed all I can from the books.”
She tapped a fingertip on her chin. “We could practice some dancing.”
“Dancing?” He shrugged. “If you like.” He came around the table toward her.
“Have you done much dancing?”
“A little.” He held out his arms, right arm crooked, left arm out, an invitation.
“Waltz! I doubt we would see that at a cèilidh, and it is probably still frowned upon at royal assemblies. It still is in Scotland, I think. Better that we practice steps for a Strathspey or a reel.”
“I will say that a waltz with a beautiful woman in candlelight is a fine thing. Though I am familiar with some Scotch dances.”
She tipped her head. “You waltzed with a beautiful woman in candlelight?”
“Not as lovely as the lass I am looking at in daylight, but aye.”
Her cheeks went pink. “Did you dance it in England, perhaps, or France?”
He owed her some of the truth. “Both, aye, as an officer.”
