Taking candid photos of folks, I got some great shots—Lucy and Eredine laughing so hard at something, they were bent toward each other, mouths open, eyes almost shut, clutching their bellies in a way that was almost cartoonish; Mac and Arrochar smiling intimately into each other’s eyes as if they were alone on a private island, not surrounded by a joyful rumpus; Thane standing with a few villagers I didn’t know, clapping his hands in time with the amazing fiddler; Lachlan standing off to the side, watching Lucy and Eredine enjoy themselves with a subtle but undeniably affectionate look on his face.

“Put the phone away and come dance.”

I glanced up and found Gordon, owner of the Gloaming and my trailer, standing over me. He was a big, burly Scot with hardly any hair on top of his head but a massive, bushy gray beard. His kilt was a different tartan from the Adairs’ and Mac’s, and he’d rid himself of his dress jacket. Sweat glistened on his jolly face as held out a big hand.

I grinned. “I’m not very good.”

“Oh, it’s not about being good. It’s about having a good time!” he boomed.

Chuckling, I nodded. “Let me put my phone away.”

I hurried to return my phone to my clutch and left it with Mac and Arrochar, who grinned as Gordon took my hand and practically hauled me onto the dance floor.

“This, somewhat appropriately,” he yelled over the music as we joined the dancers, “is called ‘The Gay Gordons’!”

Laughing, I let him maneuver me, watching the others so I could grasp the steps. We stood side by side while Gordon held my left hand in his left hand down at our sides, and my right hand over my right shoulder in his right hand.

“Forward one, two, three, four, and reverse!” he instructed, and I stumbled, laughing as we turned to avoid colliding with the couple in front of us. We did this a few times, and then Gordon boomed, “Spin!” We stopped so I could do just that before I was whisked unsteadily around the large circle in a polka embrace.

Thankfully, that was pretty much the pattern of the dance, so I got it down quickly.

All the skipping around wasn’t easy in a short dress and high heels, but I gave it my best shot.

Afterward, Gordon bowed like a gentleman and led a now-sweaty me back to my table where he leaned over Arrochar and asked her for a dance.

I’d seen the hotel owner dancing all night. The guy had stamina!

“You look like you’re having fun,” Mac observed as I grabbed a bottle of water from an ice bucket in the table center.

I nodded, noting he’d finished his pint. “Another drink?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Let me pay.”

“I got it.” I patted his shoulder and, clutch in hand, made my way through the crowded room to the equally crowded barroom.

Ten minutes after shifting through the crowd, I leaned on the bar, waiting for my turn to be served. There were three bar staff, but they were rushed off their feet.

Aware of someone new pushing in at the back of me, I tried to shimmy to give them space but couldn’t. There was no space to give. Apparently this person ignored that, because I felt the warm press of a body against mine. Yeah, it was crowded, but a little patience and adherence to personal space would be nice. I glanced over my shoulder to see who Mr. Impatient was, and tensed.

Lachlan leaned against the bar, our sides pressed tightly together, his blue eyes hot, his pupils slightly dilated from alcohol. “Enjoying yourself?”

Treating him how he’d treated me, I turned away, willing one of the bartenders to appear.

After a few seconds, I felt his elbow nudge against mine.

I ignored that too.

He did it again.

I cut him a filthy look.

Lachlan frowned. “You’re honestly going to ignore me?”

Letting out a huff of disbelief, I replied, “I thought that’s what we were doing now. I’m just following your example.”

When he flinched, I knew he knew I wasn’t just talking about tonight but about the way he’d given me the cut right in front of Marci Robbins at the castle.

“I’m sorry.” He shocked the shit out of me. “That was unforgivably rude.”

Lachlan clearly wasn’t drunk, but he’d had a few. I could only assume the alcohol accounted for the apology. And I took advantage of his lowered defenses. “Why?”

Again, he knew what I was asking. Lachlan blew out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. He searched my face and said, “Mac knows there’s something between us.”

Dismay caused my pulse to skip.

“And he made it clear that while it’s none of his business … that if whatever was between us went south and you got hurt … he’d choose you, and I’d lose his friendship.”