Page 45 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“Ye’re as ridiculous as my brother.”

A growl rumbled up his throat. “Nay compare me to the likes of him.”

“If the boot fits.”

“The only place my boot fits is down the Devil’s throat or up his ar—”

“Careful, or the seneschal might force ye to partner with James and if so, he’ll be determined to out-scythe ye.”

He hitched up his chin smugly, looking down his nose at her, exposing that ragged welt as heat licked through her and his hand trailed along her arm and took her fingers to hold. Though it was crowded and people were focused on the field and the competitors, something fluttered within her, that after yesterday, sharing her openly among some of his villagers, he’d touch her publicly here among the clans as if daring to let the world see.

“James canna even slit my throat properly. We’d be doomed if I rely on him to cut corn.”

James had done that to his throat?

A shiver passed over her, blowing the happiness aside. Battle. Fighting. She didn’t understand. Couldn’t reason why men must kill and retaliate with weapons, and thanked the stars that a truce was enforced here every year. She trailed a finger along the horrid welt she’d kissed so tenderly, but he cleared his throat and ripped her hand away.

“Meet me in the woods, on the morrow, lass. I ride to Inverness this eve but—”

“Mayhap I could come with ye!” Excitement bloomed once more.

“Nay.” His intense gaze hardened. A smile ticked up the corner of his mouth a heartbeat afterward. “I’ll be staying the night, but I’ll return for ye—”

Someone tugged on her sleeve, interrupting him.

“Brighde,” whispered Aileana, though it was hard to hear as the cheers and bodies undulated against them like a sea of limbs crowded along the bunting. She turned to see her sister-in-law’s white sheen of horror. Aileana was no longer cheering on James, but was gaping up at Tormund MacLeod. Backing up a step, ashen-faced. “Come. Come, sister, right now—”

God above! Nay! She gripped her sister-in-law’s hands. “Allie. It’s all right.”

“But it’s the MacLeod! He’s returned! He was supposed to have left yesterday morn after clearing out the sheep shed.”

Aileana’s gaze landed on her fingers joined with his. He’d done more than that. He’d brought a veritable feast to his villagers after enemy attacks had ravaged them. All of that coin she’d coerced him to take, and he’d spent it on others’ joy first while he wore the same old doublet. He was a fine laird and chief.

Brighde bit her lip. Felt worry war through her stomach. “Allie. I promise, all is well.” Aileana had promised to nay say a word, but that was before she’d known who Brighde’s suitor was.

James will never understand… Marjorie’s words slipped through Brighde’s mind, littering gooseflesh up her arms.

“Then come!” Aileana pleaded, hooking their arms together, when someone knocked into them, throwing her sister-in-law off-balance.

Tormund’s paw shot out to steady her.

Aileana yanked away, but once more gaped up at him. “Brighde, what are ye doing?”

Brighde gripped her sister-in-law, shielding her belly from the undulating crowd, then glanced up at Tormund, who had just helped her, his face shuttered. What did Tormund want her to say? Or not want her to say?

She swallowed, then nodded. “I ken who it is, Allie.”

Something pricked her finger as she twisted it. She dropped her talon. Aileana’s eyes dipped to her necklace, then bounced up to Tormund again, where an identical one pierced his ear.

“It canna be… He canna be yer man…” Aileana repeated, urgently this time. “I must tell Jamie—”

“Nay!” Brighde begged. She softened her words. “Please, sister. Nay tell my brother.”

“Why?”

Brighde worried her lip with her teeth. Worried her finger in her necklace. “Be-because he, and I…” Blush raged upon her cheeks. She couldn’t explain it here, not like this. Somehow, though, Aileana didn’t seem to need her confession, as her shock faded into a look of utter anguish. “We’re…he’s…”

Aileana grabbed her hands, pulling her close to murmur in her ear. “Is this serious?”