Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance (6 page)

BOOK: Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance
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Aidan cleared his throat, and with dagger poised, started to recite the poem by Burns, “To a Haggis.” At the verse which ended with, “An cut ye up wi ready slight,” he plunged the knife into the haggis, slicing  it down the center, causing the savory vapors to rise, and the golden juices to ooze out and run down the sides.

             
Someone pounded on the table yelling out, “Well done, laddie, that’s a bonnie sight.”

             
Others of the guests joined in and the rest of Aidan’s recitation was all but blotted out. Ceremony over, Besse whisked up the platter of haggis and carried it off to the kitchen to be reheated. Sandy Stuart got up again and started reciting another poem by Burns, the famous, “Tam O’Shanter,” which took about ten to fifteen minutes to complete. When he was finished, the main part of the dinner was served: haggis, roast beef, and bashed neeps. 

             
Grunts of pleasure could be heard all up and down the table as the food was being eaten. Bridget, who had never eaten haggis, ate little of it now other than just a taste, but heartily enjoyed the rest of dinner. Dessert of Scotch trifle and current cake was then served. Ale for those who wanted it, and tea for those who preferred something not quite so strong, accompanied the cake.

             
Glancing at Robert, Bridget felt pleased that she had come to be with him for this occasion. Never had she seen him quite as happy as he was now, with so many of his old friends around him, and knowing her father and mother were also there, made the night more pleasurable for her.

             
When the dinners was over, and before too much commotion started, Sandy Stuart again got up from the table, and while every head was bowed, offered Robbie Burn’s prayer of thanks.

 

              “And if it please thee Heavenly Guide

             
May never worse be sent;

             
But whether granted or denied,

             
Lord, bless with content.”

 

              This was followed by a toast to the Royal Family, one to immortal bard himself, and lastly one to all the ladies present. After much talking and praise for the grand dinner Robert had hosted, three fiddlers who had been invited just for the purpose started tuning up their instruments.

             
Bridget was observing the guests. She found the older folks conversation uninteresting to her.

Her grandfather noticed how quiet she was and broke in on her reverie. “Why don’t you get your favorite man, lassie, and start the dancing?”

              She smiled delightedly, “Now that’s a good idea, Robert, and I will.” Rising from the table, she quickly went to where her parents were seated, saying, “Come, Father, will you dance with me?”

             
James Campbell's face broke into a broad smile at her request. “How can I refuse such a bonnie lass?” He was proud of his first born at that moment. Never had he seen her dressed as she was now, and never had she looked prettier, her face now flushed with the excitement of the evening.

             
Her eyes met Aidan’s across the table, but she could not understand the strange look on his face.   Was it anger at being ignored by her, or disappointment she hadn’t chosen him as her dance partner.

             
Turning her eyes away from him and taking her father’s hand, they moved towards the musicians and as they passed them, she said, “A waltz, gentlemen, if you please.”

             
To the delight of the onlooking guests, they swept gracefully around the room. She caught glimpses of Aidan watching them, brows lowered and looking most unhappy.

             
She tried unsuccessfully to put him out of her mind, and felt sure he was the one Robert had intended her to dance with.

             
Some of the younger couples joined them on the floor, including Aidan and Elsie, the older ones being content to just watch.

             
The dance had barely ended when the musicians started the music for a Highland Scottish, and several couples got on the floor. Before Bridget had a chance to sit down, Aidan came to her, hand extended saying, “Come on, lass, let’s show them how it’s done.”

             
She was startled for a moment, then thought,
If he meant to make fun of me, I’ll show him I can dance just as well as he can
. She smiled at him with an enigmatic look on her face.

             
Taking her hands, he led her to the open space on the floor, and then with his arms around her waist they hopped and whirled around the room. It was a fast spirited dance with her wide skirted dress flying high off the floor. She had intended to be cold and distant with him, but caught up in the music and spirited dance, she laughed along with him matching her steps to his with ease. The faster the fiddlers played, the more she enjoyed it.

             
As the dance ended he lifted her off her feet and swung her around, skirts flying high. Bridget caught a disapproving look from her mother. Robert was delighted as were most if the other men who had kept time to the music,  pounding their ale tankards on the heavy oak table.

             
Then, it was over and they stood with the others breathing heavily, and laughing to each other.

             
“Oh, Aidan, that was delightful,” she gasped.

             
“You surprise me, lassie. I didn’t know you could dance like that.” His face was wreathed in smiles.  

             
Instantly, she was on the defensive, “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Aidan MacLeod.”

             
He smiled, “Let’s go for a breath of air then, and you can tell me all about them.”

             
“I don’t want a breath of air just now,” she snapped at him, “You forget I am supposed to be the hostess.”

             
He scowled, his eyes narrowing. “You just won't let go, will you, Bridget?”

             
“And just what do you mean by that?”

             
He looked at her coldly. “Remind me to tell you some time.” He turned and left her then, joining Elsie and two admirers in a far corner of the room.

             
Bridget went slowly back to the table and sat down beside her father who was alone, her mum apparently off visiting some friends she hadn’t seen for a while. Her father surprised her when he leaned over to her saying, “Don’t be so hard on him, lass. You make a grand looking couple.”

             
“Oh, he’s such an arrogant fool–”

             
James Campbell stopped her with, “Now, Bridget, that’s no way to talk. The lad has an eye for ye. Give him half a chance.”

             
She looked at him in disbelief, eyebrows raised.“Why, Father, you too?”

             
He smiled, his slow serious smile, thinking of the time he had been rejected by Robert when he had married Bridget’s mother, and also thinking how very much alike Robert and Bridget were. Strong willed and stubborn when they felt they were in the right.

             
He spoke quietly, looking at her fondly, “Think about it, lass, you could do worse. He’s a good lad.”

             
She looked at her father in amazement, but could think of no answer at the moment. As she reached for a piece of fruit from the table, she noticed Robert, kilts swaying, heading across the room towards them.

             
At about the same time, the fiddlers struck up the music for a quadrille, and it seemed the dancing space on the floor was instantly filled, her mum and father being amongst the dancers. Aidan and Elsie were in the four couple set with them and dancing as if their very life depended on it.

             
Bridget, watching them with mixed emotions, thought how very lovely Elsie was with her flawless complexion, lovely hair and eyes, and a slender figure she showed off with a sort of haughty pride. She could indeed be a prize for any man. Bridget wondered just what her relationship was with Aidan.

             
Robert sat down at the table with her and asked, “Are you enjoying yourself, lass? You seem usually quiet.”

             
“I’m just a wee bit tired, Robert, but it is a lovely party. Look at my parents dancing, they are really having a fine time of it tonight. I am so glad they came.”

             
“Aye, lassie, I’m glad too.”

             
When the dance was about to end, the hubbub of voices got louder as friends visited with each other. Robert said, “The night is getting on, Bridget, would you play something on the piano before the guests go home?”

             
“Of course, Grandfather,” she answered getting to her feet, “Anything special you would like to hear?”

             
“Aye. Would you play the 'Mountains Of Mourne?' It’s a great favorite of mine. I’ll ask Sandy Stuart to sing along with you.”

             
And so it was. Bridget’s expert rendition of the lovely old song combined with the mellow tenor voice of Sandy captured the attention of the guests. As the plaintiff words, “Where the Mountains of Mourne, sweep down to the sea,” faded away as the song ended, there were tears in the eyes of many of the older folks.

             
More requests for favorite songs followed, and now everyone joined in the singing. Even Aidan and Elsie came to stand around the piano with the others, and although she clung to Aidan as if she owned him, his eyes seldom strayed from Bridget. He seemed fascinated by the speed of her fingers flying over the keys as she added runs and glissandos to the comparatively simple songs. Then, it was time to end the festivities and the musicians started playing "Auld Lang Syne," the closing song.

             
As she got up from the piano stool, Bridget was surprised when Aidan reached for her, and without asked, put his arm around her for the last dance.

             
She was very tired and welcomed the support of his arm, and as they glided around the room she involuntarily rested her head against his chest.

             
The lowered light, the voices softly humming “Auld Lang Syne,” the very sweetness of the moment, all put her in a dream like state that she wished could go on endlessly. She came back to reality as the music ended and some one turned the lamps up again.

             
She looked up into Aidan’s dark and handsome face. He was smiling,  his beautiful transfiguring smile, and at the moment all animosities seemed to have vanished.  She smiled back at him,

             
“Thank you, Aidan, that was lovely. Such a beautiful old song.”

             
He kissed her on the fore head, “I enjoyed it too, lassie, and wish it could have gone on longer, but much as I hate to leave you, I’m afraid I must. I think I have some ladies to walk home, and must go and change my clothes. The hour is late.”

             
He left her then, and as he strode away she felt as if a light had gone out somewhere. She was annoyed with the emotions he aroused in her, and yet absurdly happy. She tried hard not to like him, but his very presence set her heart to racing.

             
She now thought of the remark she had heard Elizabeth MacPherson make earlier in the day, “Everyone knows his reputation with the ladies.” Bridget wondered if she was just another one to add to his list.

             
With a sigh, she turned and started for the door where she would join her grandfather in bidding the departing guests goodnight and good wishes, just as they had greeted them together a few hours earlier. First, she went to the sun room where the ladies had put their wraps to see if she could help in any way.

             
She ran abreast of Elsie Carlisle; the look she got from her would have floored a lesser personality. “So, Miss Campbell,” she began, “you got him away from me for the last dance, didn’t you? But don’t build up any hopes, that was just out of loyalty to your grandfather.”

             
“Oh, don’t be silly, Elsie. I have no interest in Aidan. You are welcome to him.”

             
“Then, see you  remember that,” Elsie snapped back at her, “just because you are to be living in the same house doesn’t give you any privileges.”

             
Bridget, nettled by her attitude asked, “Are you engaged to Aidan?”

             
Elsie’s face reddened. “No, not yet, but we do have an understanding.”

             
Bridget couldn’t resist a parting shot. “So, he is still fair game then? I shall remember that also.”

             
Elsie’s face was a study of resentment and anger as Bridget walked away.

BOOK: Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance
4.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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