• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s bloody well too dangerous for you,” he said.

But Douglas didn’t have a guardian angel looking out for him.

“You can’t come, Douglas. It’s not that I don’t think you’re brave enough to face whatever might be out there, it’s just—” My brain stalled. I simply couldn’t think of a good reason for him not to come. Not unless I told him about my guardian angel, and I couldn’t do that.

Douglas prompted me. “Go on.”

There was only one way to get out of this. Lie.

“I won’t go out on the loch tonight,” I said. “You’re right. It is too dangerous.”

Douglas looked at me suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. You’re planning to go out while everyone is at the dance.”

He was right. That’s exactly what I was planning. Bugger. Now I only had one option.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay, I’ll go with you to the dance.”

“Really?”

I nodded. I was touched by his happiness, but it didn’t change what I had to do. Sometime during the dance I had to sneak out and go down to the loch alone.

Chapter Twelve

I didn’t dress up for the dance, but Douglas did. He wore a kilt with matching socks, a sporran and a frilly white shirt. What is it that makes a man in a kilt so appealing? Is it the sight of a muscular pair of legs? Or the possibility that he might not be wearing anything underneath?

Douglas glanced at me curiously. “What’re you smiling at, Allegra?”

“Nothing,” I said innocently. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was wondering whether his kilt would whirl up during the dance and reveal exactly what he had on underneath.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” As we walked to the community hall, I said, “I think I should warn you I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to judge you. We’re all here for fun.”

I could hear the bagpipes long before we got to the hall. Bagpipes? Uh-oh, this was going to be a Scottish dance with Scottish dances. I should have realized that when I saw Douglas’s outfit, but I had been too busy wondering about his undergarments.

“Douglas,” I said desperately, “I don’t know any Scottish dances.”

“Dinnae worry,” he said with a confidence born of ignorance. “I’ll show you what to do.”

Showing me was one thing, but whether I could do it was another matter entirely. I know this is lame but I was more apprehensive about walking into that dance than I was at the prospect of rowing out on the loch alone. Maybe it was because Casper wasn’t here to help me. But Douglas was and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

When I tried to avoid participating in the first dance, he said, “Try it. Just once. If you dinnae like it you can sit down.”

Okay, so I’d dance one dance, Douglas would see I was crap, and then I’d prop up the bar for the rest of the night. Immediately I remembered I couldn’t afford to get drunk. I had to be sober for my excursion on the loch.

Taking my hand Douglas led me onto the dance floor. We formed groups of six and began bowing and curtseying to one another. Good, I could manage a curtsey. I was feeling quite pleased with myself when the music began. Yikes.

Luckily there was a guy with a microphone calling the steps so I had audio clues as well as the visual ones provided by the dancers around me. They were a nice bunch, smiling at my mistakes and pointing me in the right direction when I turned the wrong way.

I lost count of the number of times I trod on Douglas’s toes but he didn’t seem to mind. By the end of the dance we were both out of breath and laughing. Who’d have thought Scottish dancing would be my thing?

I danced until my feet ached. Then Douglas took me outside for a breath of cool air. At first it was pleasant being away from the heat and noise of the hall, but I soon realized that the cool air was really cold and I shivered.

Douglas put his arm around me. I nestled against him. Was it the cold or that kilt that made me slip my arms around his neck? Even now I can’t be sure, but soon both