Page 25 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
She curtsied. “I might be, my lord.”
“Good. Then save me a waltz or a quadrille.”
Persephone fluttered her fan at him. “Oh, I couldn’t promise such a thing, my lord.”
“Well, I dunnae want a country dance. All that jumping about. Everyone looks like chickens fleeing foxes.”
“I cannot say which dances will be offered, my lord. Last week, Lady Albert had but one quadrille, and six country dances. Everyone was so exhausted, two ladies fell asleep in their chairs.” She looked up toward the sky. “It’s such a fine day, and I must be going. Good day, my lord.”
“I’d still like to dance with ye, lass.”
Turning her back, Persephone put her hand around Gavin’s arm. “I think I see my mother over there. Excuse me.”
Behind her, she swore she could hear a low growl. “Now what?” Coll demanded, continuing to swear under his breath.
“You tried to trap me into accepting you.”
“I dunnae care for a country dance. I’ve always said so. Ask anyone.”
She faced him again. “Simply because you don’t care for something doesn’t mean it isn’t a necessary tool for someone else. If you’d accept a waltz, you must be ready to accept a country dance.”
“If ye’d just tell me ye’d only give me a country dance, then I could be on my way to find a different lass.”
She could see the problem; he was direct, and thus he disliked the games played in courting. “You have to be patient. Give a woman more than the space of a few words to decide her entire future.” She smiled at his annoyed look. “The part with the daisy was very nice. You should use that.” Persephone clapped her hands together. “Let’s do it again, shall we?”
His lips thinned. “Aye. Once more.”
This time, when he picked a daisy, he wrenched it out ofthe ground, root and all. “Good day, lass,” he said, holding it out to her. “I’m Glendarril. Ye’re a fairer flower than this posy. Will ye dance with me at the Runescroft soiree?”
“I’m afraid I’m not attending that ball, my lord,” she cooed, shying away from the dirt-dripping flower.
Coll frowned. “Then at which one might I dance with ye?”
“My father doesn’t approve of dancing at all, I’m afraid. I will be playing the harp at a musical recital on Thursday. Might you come and see me there?”
“If I go to yer recital, I willnae be able to attend the Runescroft ball.”
“But if you go to the Runescroft ball, I will not be able to accept your courtship. I’m—”
Coll stepped forward, lifted her up by the waist, and tossed her onto his shoulder. Her fan went flying as she grabbed onto his arm to keep from falling. “I reckon ye’ll come with me now.”
“Coll! Put me down!”
“Nae. I’m taking ye to church right now and marrying ye,” he announced.
The groom picked up her fan and smacked Coll with it across the chest. “Put Miss Charlotte down, ye fiend!” he shrieked.
“Ye flail at me again, Gavin, and ye and I are going to have a tussle.”
The groom dropped the fan. “Aye, m’laird.”
For a heart-stopping moment, Persephone wasn’t certain whether he was jesting or not. Hehadthreatened to marry her to spite his mother, after all. “Is this how you court in the Highlands?” she asked, lifting her head and hoping Flora had secured her light blonde wig well enough that being upside down wouldn’t unseat it.
“Aye. I’ve four weeks, Persephone. If I wait for every lass to confer with her mama before she gives me a country dance four days later, I’ll lose all funding to Aldriss Park. And I cannae do that. I’ve run out of time to be patient.”
“Then we’ll find something thatdoeswork for you.”
At that, he shifted her, slowly lowering her in his arms until they were face-to-face. “Ye’re very good at being a proper lass, Persephone.”
