“Let’s go. My debut awaits!”
“I hear the boy’s alter-parent is on his way down. Good idea,” he said as they stepped into the well-rutted roadway.
There were folks behind and in front of them, and every house had lights on to illuminate the way to the hall. Yana hadn’t appreciated just how many people lived in and around the village.
“Is everyone on Petaybee here?” she asked, trying to estimate attendance from the steady traffic and the numbers of sleds already parked in front of the hall.
“Everyone who matters to Petaybee,” he answered, grinning at her.
She mulled that over. “Why should I matter to Petaybee?” she finally asked.
“Why shouldn’t you?”
She wanted him to explain that remark and to stop being so cryptic, but before she could speak, someone hailed him from a passing sled. He cupped her arm in his, shielding her from the snow spray, as he called a cheery reply. Then they had to pick their way around sleds and sled dogs, careful not to tread on animals half-buried in the lazy snow that was adding new depth to the old.
They could hear the happy noise of many cheerful voices, the scrape of fiddles, the wheeze of an accordion, the tootle of a tin whistle, the bass thrum of a bodhran as they reached the front door. Light flared out onto the sawdust that coated the well-trodden snow as the door opened, letting out a puff of warmed air, redolent of leather, clean linen, and herbal scents.
As soon as Sean was identified, he was absorbed into a welcoming group that effectively divorced him from Yana. She shrugged, impressed by his popularity, as she hauled off her outerwear and tried to find a spare hook on the line down the left-hand wall. She gave up and tossed her parka onto the growing pile in the corner, then slid out of her boots and tied their drawstrings together before setting them down beside the pile.
An arm snaked around her waist and she was pulled into a tight embrace. She was about to struggle when she realized it was Sean. Then she was guided out and onto the dance floor and found herself, willy-nilly, pumped about in an energetic polka by her grinning partner.
Those on the sidelines seemed determined to encourage him to grander feats of speed and agility. She clung for dear life to his shoulder and his guiding hand as the room swirled in dizzying circles about her. Three or four weeks earlier she would have been coughing uncontrollably after the first turn about the room, but now she didn’t even feel the need to reach for Clodagh’s cough medicine. She was breathless, of course, but it was with the sheer momentum of the dance as she was swept away in Scan’s arms while other dancers careered around them. She had better not have a coughing fit here. She could be accidentally stomped to death if she lost her footing! But it was all very exciting. She had never-not even when Bry was being extra sociable-danced quite this uninhibitedly. It was unbelievably exhilarating-dancing with a whirlwind. She didn’t know how Sean kept his balance, much less how he kept dancing so lightly, and yet she who, a mere five weeks before, had barely been able to walk without doubling over with lung spasms could now-almost-keep up with him. Whether it was due to the romance of the moment or the beneficial effects of Clodagh’s cough medicine she didn’t know, but she loved it.
The dance stopped only when the musicians needed to catch their breaths and moisten their throats. Weak and breathless, Yana was obliged to hang on to Sean for fear of falling, and she shivered with reaction to the closeness of the hard, strong body that supported her, and the hands that clasped her body with a touch that sent peculiar ripples up and down her arms and legs. She knew she should pull free and didn’t want to-not in this lifetime.
Sweat was trickling down her face by then, and she was afraid if she didn’t attend to that she would disgust her partner. Except, just then, he laid an equally moist cheek against hers and laughed in her ear.