Page 16 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Seven

T he room was warm and bright as the Highlanders filled the space with laughter and music. One of the company men had brought his bagpipes, while another had produced a flute. A fiddle was added by one of the colonists and the trio played together as if they’d been doing it their whole life.

A fire crackled in the large hearth and the tables had been pushed back against the walls to leave the middle of the room open for dancing.

“A bonnie night for a dance,” one of the men called out to Arran as he led Eleanor into the hall.

The crowd was in the middle of a lively Scottish country dance, one Arran hadn’t heard since he was a boy.

About three dozen people stood in four long lines, their partners standing across from them.

Two by two, they danced down the lines until they came to the end, laughing and jigging the whole way.

Then they began to weave in and out, bouncing on their toes in a Highland step.

Several of the men wore their kilts while others were dressed in deerskin trousers.

Eleanor stood close to Arran’s side, her warm hand nestled firmly in the crook of his elbow. He set his musket against the wall where all the others had been laid, and he stood for a minute watching the dancers move.

“Do you ken this dance?” he asked Eleanor.

She shook her head, her face already glowing, though she hadn’t yet danced.

“I remember my maither and faither dancing to this tune when I was a wee lad.” Just thinking about his mother made him flex his hands. The scars were tight from the dry winter air. He looked down at them, recalling the day his life had changed forever.

“Do you think you could teach me?” she asked—and then noticed he was studying his hands. She looked down at his scars for a moment before lifting her questioning eyes to his.

She had asked him once, many years ago, how he’d gotten his scars. He hadn’t answered her then, and he wasn’t sure he could answer her if she asked him now. They were a constant reminder of his weakness and inability, and they were the last thing he wanted to share with anyone. Especially Eleanor.

Instead of asking him, she lifted her free hand and set it on top of his, covering his scars with her soft, gentle touch. The look in her eyes told him she understood his pain, even if she didn’t know how it had happened.

A deep and abiding affection filled Arran’s chest. It was more powerful than attraction or desire and gave him a longing he’d never known before.

“Eleanor.” Mrs. Ferguson approached with a hearty smile. She’d been to their home just after supper, when she’d fed Miriam. “I wondered if you’d come tonight.”

Arran was both relieved and disappointed at the interruption.

The country dance ended, and the couples clapped their hearty approval. Many of them spoke in Gaelic tonight, their love of the old country flowing freely.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Eleanor smiled up at Arran, her brown eyes filled with appreciation.

His heart made a funny leap, and he knew, if he wasn’t careful, his well-guarded feelings would start to grow again under the light of her attention.

“Do you like to dance?” Mrs. Ferguson asked Eleanor.

“Very much.”

“Good.” Mrs. Ferguson turned and caught her husband’s eye. She motioned him over.

Angus Ferguson was a giant of a man, but he was jolly and always had a smile on his face. He approached with laughter in his eyes.

“Angus, my love.” Mrs. Ferguson wrapped her arm around her husband’s elbow. “Ask Miss Eleanor to dance, will you?”

The next song, a Scottish reel, began to play.

“Of course I will.” Angus grinned and extended a meaty hand to Eleanor. “Will you dance a reel with me, lass?”

With shining eyes, Eleanor let Arran go and took Mr. Ferguson’s hand. “I would be honored.”

“Good!” Angus said and led her onto the dance floor.

Though Arran was pleased that Eleanor had been taken away by one of the Highlanders, he couldn’t ignore his disappointment that she was in another man’s arms. He turned to Mrs. Ferguson, wanting to distract himself. “Will you dance with me?”

“Aye. But only if you’re a good dancer.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He led her to the middle of the room, and they joined Eleanor and Mr. Ferguson in a reel-of-four. They would stay in the same group of four throughout the dance, weaving around one another, crossing partners, and dancing in time to the music.

As the bagpipes played, they began to dance.

Arran bowed to Mrs. Ferguson, while she curtsied.

Behind Arran, Eleanor stood facing Mr. Ferguson and they bowed and curtsied, as well.

Arran noticed the others watching Eleanor dance with Mr. Ferguson.

He hoped their respect for the gregarious Highlander would sway their opinion of her.

Eleanor’s eyes sparkled and her mouth curved up in a smile as they danced the reel.

Though she didn’t know the dance, she did her best to keep up with Angus.

When she made a mistake, she laughed and tried again.

It was hard to take his eyes off her, so Arran didn’t even try.

Most of the single men in the room were having the same problem.

When the reel was over, Sean Campbell approached and asked Eleanor for the next dance. She willingly obliged, and soon, she was whisked away. Smiling an apology at Arran as she went.

He could only admire her from a distance as she was passed from one dance partner to the other, smiling and breathless as she moved around the hall.

Finally, an hour later, he found himself beside her once again.

Her eyes glowed and her cheeks were filled with color.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

The musicians began a waltz, and Arran was afraid if he didn’t act soon, he’d miss the chance to dance with her.

“May I have this dance?” he asked her above the noise of the bagpipes.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned and took the hand he offered.

He led her onto the dance floor, his heart pounding a little faster at the idea of holding her in his arms again.

Slowly, he slipped his right hand around her tiny waist, drawing her close as he captured her right hand in his left.

It was just as much an honor to dance with Eleanor tonight as it had been at St. Mary’s Isle.

And just like before, every nerve in his body thrummed with awareness of her.

For a heartbeat, he could do nothing but look into her eyes.

In moments like this, he almost felt as if he was dreaming. All those years of yearning for her across the ocean. It didn’t feel real that she was with him in the wilds of North America, in his arms again.

Eleanor gazed up at him, her features soft and tender in the flickering candlelight. She looked at him as if it was just the two of them.

With a mind of their own, his feet began to move, and his body followed, carrying her along. They circled the room, stepping in perfect rhythm together.

“I was beginning to think you lied to me,” she said quietly.

His eyebrows tilted together. “What do you mean?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t ask me to dance like you promised.”

He smiled. “You havena sat in the corner once,” he said, a bit triumphantly.

The room was growing increasingly warmer as he held her close.

His gaze lowered to her lips, and he was suddenly transported to a moonlit night when he’d walked with her in the garden.

He’d wanted to kiss her then, but was afraid it was too soon and he’d scare her away.

Instead of kissing her, he’d captured her hand in his and she hadn’t pulled away.

He didn’t want to rush anything with Eleanor.

She wasn’t a silly maiden to use and discard.

If he kissed her, he wanted to be certain it would be the first kiss of countless others, spanning the length of his life.

But now, as he danced with her on the plains of the Red River Valley, over three years and thousands of miles apart, he wished he would have kissed her then.

It had been one of his deepest regrets, because even if he couldn’t spend the rest of his life with Eleanor in his arms, at least he would have had the memory of her kiss to keep him warm on the long winter nights.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked with a curious smile.

Heat snaked up his neck and he wondered what she would think if he told her the truth. I’m thinking about kissing you, lass .

Instead, he said, “Our dances at St. Mary’s Isle. You’re bonnier than you’ve ever been.”

She dipped her head and looked away, an embarrassed smile on her lips. “And you are more charming.”

Arran pulled her closer, wishing he could wrap her fully in his embrace.

But even as he longed to draw her near, every shred of experience he’d had in the Red River Valley told him to keep her at a distance.

After the first year in the settlement, he had promised himself not to get close to anyone.

They either left or died. There were no other options.

Why would Eleanor be any different? What would he gain from losing his heart to her all over again, if she was taken from him?

Would it be worth the few short months of pleasure?

And then there was William West. When Arran had entered the house and found Eleanor and William holding hands, his first response had been anger, quickly followed by jealousy.

But the rational part of his mind told him that Eleanor would be better off with William—in England—as far away from Assiniboia as possible.

William was a good man, and he brought out the best in Eleanor.

Instead of coming between them, he should be encouraging Eleanor to pursue a life with the minister.

She would have comfort and security back in England, perhaps a cozy parsonage with a lovely garden where she could have her tea and spend pleasant afternoons with Miriam.