Page 46 of Of Heather and Thistle

Her heart was racing now; the dance was no longer just about the steps.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and suddenly, it was all too clear—how easy it was to be with him, how natural the connection felt.

She smiled, breathless but exhilarated, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“See?” Flynn winked, voice warm but teasing.

“Told ye you’d be great.” As the dance ended, he didn’t let go of her immediately.

He looked at her, his blue eyes searching hers, a flicker of something there she couldn’t quite name.

For a breath, the world around them seemed to pause.

“Ye’re good at this,” he said, voice low.

“I don’t know about that,” Heather replied, still catching her breath, her cheeks flushed.

“But it’s fun.” There was an intensity in his gaze, something quiet and serious beneath the teasing.

“It’s not just the dancing, though, is it?

” Flynn asked, his voice soft. The banter had been easy, but this—this felt different.

She could feel the weight of his words lingering between them, a question neither had entirely answered. Flynn’s grin flickered.

His hand, firm at her waist, tightened just slightly.

Heather barely had time to process it before he spun her, and— She slipped.

Not literally. Emotionally. Just for a second.

Long enough for her gaze to catch on his mouth.

And Flynn noticed. His grip flexed. His blue eyes darkened.

It wasn’t just a dance. It wasn’t just a ceilidh.

It was something else—something she couldn’t name but felt in her heart, warm and dangerous.

She should step away. Right now. Right this second. Before it became something she couldn’t take back. Before she lost herself to it. Before—Heather sucked in a breath.

Oh, hell. Oh no.

And he saw it. The precise moment her guard slipped. The moment her body betrayed her. The music swelled, the dance pulled them closer, and for one terrifying second, she thought—

He’s going to kiss me.

Flynn didn’t ask. He just read the moment. One second, she was spinning. The next—his fingers skimmed her jaw, tilting her face up. His lips brushed hers, a whisper of heat. Soft. Questioning. She could still pull away. But she didn’t.

Heather broke.

The kiss deepened. Heat flooded her veins, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Flynn groaned against her mouth. And suddenly, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only this: his mouth, her breath, and the fire between them.

Flynn, solid and steady. Heather, coming apart at the seams. She needed this.

She needed him. And that scared the hell out of her.

When they finally pulled apart, Flynn stayed close, their foreheads rested together as Heather’s chest heaved.

Her brain short-circuited and heart slammed against her ribs.

She had to stop this. Had to shut it down.

Had to— Flynn was still looking at her, forehead resting against hers, breathing just as hard.

Oh. Oh, she was so screwed .

She wanted more. And that was a problem. Because this wasn’t just a kiss. It was a free-fall. And Heather wasn’t sure she knew how to land. Flynn’s voice was low, husky, dangerous. “So… do I get another dance?”

Heather laughed, feeling some tension she hadn’t even realized was there to melt away.

She shook her head, her chest still fluttering.

“You are persistent, aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t be much of a Scot if I wasn’t.

” She paused, her heart racing before a grin tugged at her lips.

“Alright, alright. I guess one more dance won’t hurt. ”

Flynn’s eyes lit up at her words, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers as he took it.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, the flirtation still simmering between them, but there was something genuine in his gaze too.

They moved back into the center of the dance floor, and this time, Heather was more relaxed, a little more willing to let herself enjoy the moment.

Flynn led her effortlessly, his hand warm on her back, syncing their steps with ease. This time, they fell into rhythm—steps syncing like they’d danced together for years. “Ye know, you’re actually not as bad as ye were a few minutes ago,” Flynn teased as they twirled around.

Heather couldn’t help but laugh. “Says the guy who nearly tripped over his own feet two seconds ago.”

“Hey, I was just testing the waters,” he replied with a grin. “Ye can’t have too much finesse all at once, right?”

Heather rolled her eyes, but their warmth made her laugh again.

She found herself leaning in a little closer to him, their connection deepening with every shared glance and every playful retort.

It felt like it was just the two of them, lost in the music and the laughter.

“I thought I’d be stepping on your toes all night. ”

“You’re a quick learner,” Flynn replied with a wink, his hand resting lightly on her waist. “I’ll give you that.”

As they danced, the world around them seemed to disappear, the pub noise fading into the background.

It was just the two of them, spinning and laughing, caught up in something that felt like both the beginning and the end of something entirely new.

As the final notes of the ceilidh faded and the crowd began to thin, Flynn and Heather stepped off the dance floor, the night buzz still humming between them.

The connection was undeniable now, even if neither had said much about it.

Always so easygoing, Flynn seemed to take the lead, slipping his jacket on before offering her a warm smile.

“You ready to head back to the inn?” he asked, his voice low, almost intimate in the quiet moment they shared.

Heather nodded, her heart still fluttering from their last dance, kiss, everything.

His hands were steady, but she suddenly wasn’t.

Not just from the kiss. From the way he felt against her—warm, solid, strong.

From the way her body reacted, instinctual and dangerous.

From the way she wondered—just for a second—what it would feel like if he didn’t stop at just this.

Heat curled low in her belly, unfamiliar and unwelcome, because it meant one thing—she didn’t just want Flynn.

She wanted him in a way that scared the hell out of her .

The cool air hit her skin as they walked out into the crisp Inverness night, but it didn’t cool the fire she felt inside. She couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss—the way he pulled her close, the way it lit her up from the inside out.

She’d wanted it. More than she should. More than she could admit—even to herself.