Captured by the Pirate Laird by Amy Jarecki

felt like a stag tracking a doe during the mating season. Calum took
in a deep breath to clear his head. What
the hell am I thinking?
    He
led Anne in the dance with as much grace as the vivacious fiddling would allow.
When the music stopped, the fiddler announced a strathspey. Calum took Anne’s
small hands and leaned his mouth close to her ear so he could be heard over the
crowd. “Ye’ll like this one. ‘Tis a bit slower.”
    They
stood across from each other with a line of men on one side and the women on
the other. The dancing had piqued the color in Anne’s cheeks and she looked as
fresh as dew, sparkling in the glory of a summer’s sunrise. She gazed across
the open space between them, her eyes alive with anticipation of yet another
dance with unfamiliar steps. There was no need for her to worry. He could guide
her through every footfall.
    The
music began and Calum stepped forward, grasping her hands in his. By the
suppleness of her movement, he could tell that she’d been trained to follow a
man’s lead. She responded to every twist of his hand and turn of his foot as if
she could predict each move. He would expect the daughter of an earl to have
mastered grace and she followed well.
    He
sashayed in a circle holding Anne’s hands. Her skirts tickled his calves.
Anne’s sapphire eyes slid up to meet his. He swallowed. It was time to return
to the line. His insides tightening, he didn’t want to release those rose petal
soft fingers, but the music demanded it.
    Anne
again stood across from him. The music and step sequence forced them to move sideways.
He beheld another face, friendly, but not intoxicating like Anne’s. He locked
arms with Sarah. They spun in a circle—Anne circled with Adair behind him. Calum
wanted Anne’s hands back in his. He got his wish and her eyelashes fluttered
with her giggle.
    This
time he grasped her possessively. He wanted her to himself and when they
sashayed, he could see no other face but hers. The music in his ears dimmed to
a low hum. His breath loud in his ears, he pulled her in for the spin and the
sweet bouquet of honeysuckle and woman flooded his senses. In that moment, time
stopped. He stood motionless and held Anne inches from his body, staring into
those eyes. She gazed back at him with an expectant fire.
    Adair
tapped him on the shoulder. Calum begrudgingly released his grasp and turned to
Sarah. The music came flooding back. He glanced over his shoulder and watched
Anne as Adair whisked her in another circle. If only they could dance alone.
    Calum
wished the fiddler could play a volta, then he would have an excuse to wrap his
arms around her without bringing attention to his deep-seated desires. But this
was not England, thank God. Calum picked up his feet and danced to the music of
his kinfolk. That’s how he wanted it. Seeing Anne’s face smiling up at him
while he took every care to swing her around the floor, filled him with desire
aplenty. Hell, if he danced a volta with her, he’d have to go down to the beach
and throw himself into the icy sea to cool off.
    To
his surprise, when the music ended, Friar Pat tapped him on the shoulder. If it
had been anyone else but the kindhearted friar with his careworn face, Calum
would have told him to go jump in the bay, but he couldn’t very well say no.
    Anne’s
eyes popped when she looked at his brown habit—fortunately the reformation
hadn’t reached the island. “’Tis good to see the people of Raasay have a
spiritual leader.”
    The
friar took her hand and waggled his eyebrows. “Aye, milady. ’Tis a difficult
job indeed, bringing the word to a heathen like the laird.”
    Calum
looked toward the heavens. The friar had obviously had a few too many pints of
ale and by his color, possibly a cup of whisky or two.
    Nursing
a tankard, Norman watched Calum return. “Ye’ve got eyes for her.”
    “What
the blazes are ye talking about?”
    “Ye
like the sassenach wench.”
    Calum’s
hand shot out and gripped