Another cheer went up, and Jemma turned to see that men were pushing the tables back to clear a large section of the floor. The moment they completed their task, couples flooded the area and began dancing. Several men and even some women were gathered together with their instruments to provide music for the dancers. There were handheld drums, flutes, violins, and Scottish bagpipes. They blended together in a lively offering of music that kept her toe tapping.
“Do ye play any instruments?”
“Yes . . .” Jemma stumbled over her response because she realized that Gordon was making an attempt to know her. It surprised her because she suddenly realized that she had never taken any time to attempt to talk to him, either.
“I play the mandolin. My father enjoyed the soothing sound very much.”
“Would ye play for me?”
Her lips tugged up at the corners, and she had to fight the urge to lower her lashes again.
Sweet virgin . . . she is simpering, he thought.
“If you like. Is it possible to have my things brought from Amber Hill?”
Gordon looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time. “Aye, ’tis something I should have seen to before, but I confess that I was distracted by ye too much to consider that ye had not even a clean chemise.”
“Ula brought me what I needed.”
He grimaced. “Aye, and slipped a few barbed words into me ear when she made mention of the fact.”
Jemma couldn’t resist laughing. Just a low sound of amusement that gained her a scoffing sound from Gordon.
“Do nae start laughing at me. That woman knows how to strip the flesh off a man without muttering a single word that ye might be able to take offense at.”
“I have noticed that, but that is her experience rising above our own.”
“It is that, lass, I hope ye’ll be considering that valuable.”
Jemma suffered another jolt of shock hitting her. He hoped? So the man was not going to usurp her authority when it came to the running of the house, even if he disagreed with her choices?
“I have never disrespected ye, Jemma.”
She snorted and lowered her voice. “You spanked me and took my shoes.”
He offered her a cocky smile, one that flashed his teeth at her.
“Now that was just playing, lass. I admit that placing my hand on yer bottom was quite enjoyable.”
“Playing?”
Jemma kicked him beneath the table, but her bare foot took more pain from the blow than his shin did with his knee-high boots to help protect him. He chuckled.
“Ye see? There is evidence as to what I am saying . . .” He leaned toward her and she was too curious not to do the same. There was something about the man that was far too hypnotic. “Ye like to play, too, which is why I indulge ye so often.”
Jemma pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “You toy with me too often, sir.”
His expression turned sensuous, and his eyes filled with dark promise. “I’ve only just started, lass, but it would be a poor groom I am to take ye above stairs the moment the priest finished the blessing. Ye might think I only think of two things in life, fighting and
Jemma smiled sweetly at him. “Do you mean to say that you do think of other things?” She kept her tone innocent and honey coated, exactly as her nurse had once instructed her.
He snorted and then laughed out loud. He tipped his head back and let his amusement bounce off the ceiling. Heads turned to glance at them, and Gordon picked up his tankard and raised it toward the assembled company.
They cheered and grabbed their own mugs, everyone tipping them back to drink long and deep. Gordon slammed his mug down and pushed his chair back.
“Come, wife! I want to dance with ye so that ye are too tired to lead me on a chase around our bed tonight.”
His words gained hearty approval from those who heard him, and they were happy to repeat what they heard to those who weren’t close enough. Jemma blushed as the men all cheered on their laird and the women offered her tiny smirks.
“You are incorrigible.”
“Aye, lass, I am.”
But he still knew how to play, and that was something she realized she had missed. Amber Hill had been too structured, a necessity while her father was ill, but she couldn’t recall the last time she had danced anything but slow pavans.
Gordon pulled her into the middle of the dance floor, and the music picked up its tempo. The dancing was Gaelic with some of the younger girls rising all the way up onto their toes. They pulled their skirts up to show off the quick motions of their feet, and the men roared with approval while clapping in time with the musicians. Everyone joined in, from the young to the old. Even Ula passed by, her skirts held in her hands while she wove in and out of the men. There was flirting and boldness such as Jemma had never seen in her dancing instructions. The dances were not the orderly Italian steps she had been taught in case she went to court. They were more like the ones danced at festivals outside the walls of Amber Hill.
Gordon pulled her along, but she took to the beat of the music well, reaching down to grasp her skirts and
