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My brother Ramsay saunters up to us. "Mind if I borrow your lass? I should get to know my future sister-in-law, and there's no better way to do that than on the dance floor."
"Ask Rebecca, not me."
The lass holds out her hand to Ramsay. "I would love to dance with another big, sexy, handsome Buchanan man."
Ramsay winks at me. "Better watch out, Thane. I might steal your lass."
"You have a better chance of convincing Ma to wear a clown suit." I tell Rebecca, "She hates clowns and circuses."
"Me too."
I watch as Ramsay leads Rebecca out onto the dance floor, and they begin to chat about who knows what. My brother makes her smile, probably by recounting a humorous tale about our family. I love seeing her this way, dancing like a fairy-tale queen, enchanting every man she meets. But I know she will leave tonight with me.
Aye, Rebecca Taylor is magnificent.
I notice my sister hovering at the periphery of the dance floor, alone, with her arms wrapped round herself. That won't do. Iona should be having a good time like the rest of us. Even Eric and Courtney Taylor are enjoying the evening. Evan MacTaggart holds out his hand to Iona, inviting her to dance with him, but she hunches her shoulders and shakes her head.
Evan walks away.
No, this won't do at all. I march around the edges of the dance floor until I reach my sister. "Iona, why aren't you dancing? You love a good ceilidh."
Her expression cinches up tight. "Dinnae feel like dancing, Thane. I'm the only one here who doesn't have a significant other."
"Eric Taylor is single too."
"Aye, but he's almost twenty years younger than I am."
I lean against the wall beside her. "What's really bothering you about this ceilidh."
She turns her head toward me and sighs. "It's a ball, Thane, not a ceilidh."
"Well, it all sounds like the same thing to me." I slant my head down to meet her gaze head on. "You haven't answered my question. What's really fashing you?"
"I'm old, that's what fashes me. I'm well into my forties, and no man wants to date me because I have two children. The fact that they're adopted only turns men off even more." She rubs her neck as she glances out at the dance floor. "Besides, I'm a nosy journalist. Blokes like that even less. I might as well hang a shingle on my front door that says 'old maid lives here, run away now.' "
"Ramsay isn't married anymore. Dinnae see him standing in a corner having a self-pity party." No, I won't leave her here like this. So, I grab her hand and drag her away from the wall. "Come with me, Iona."
I keep hold of her hand as I start walking.
She refuses to move. "Leave me alone, Thane."
"Cannae do that." I sweep her up and throw the lass over my shoulder. "If you won't cooperate, I'll make the decision for you."
I march across the floor, forcing other people to scatter to get out of the way, and halt in front of one man. And I set my sister on her feet. "Iona needs a dance partner. Eric, would you care to escort my sister round the floor?"
He flicks his gaze between me and Iona, then holds out his hand to her. "Come on, let's have some fun. I bet you're a great dancer. I noticed you're very graceful when you're walking around."
Eric must have been watching my sister for a while. Oh, aye, I've made a good match with these two. I don't expect them to get married, but at least they'll have a good time tonight.
Since Rebecca is still making the rounds among the men, I take a spin round the floor with every member of the American Wives Club. Not all at once, obviously. They are all sweet lasses, and I enjoy chatting with them. The last member of the club who takes a spin with me is Rory MacTaggart's wife, Emery. And she has a few things to say.
"I'm so glad you and Rebecca hit it off," she says. "You're made for each other, and everyone can see that. We weren't sure our meddling would lead to a wedding, but I foresee one in the near future."
"Aye, so do I. But you lot didn't meddle. I kept waiting for that to start, but it never did."
"Oh, sure it did." She smiles, and the expression has a bit of mischief in it. "After all, we hired Rebecca to work at your distillery. That's why Fiona flew all the way to America to interview her. Her report proved there was a high probability you two would hit it off. Of course, we would've hired her even without your romantic chemistry. She had the marketing creds the distillery needed."
Though I continue dancing with Emery, my feet move by rote. I'm too stunned to think about anything except what she just told me.
