Page 35 of Scotlander

There were a few things he could say here – yes/maybe he’s bi?/are you blind, woman? – but a curious need to cushion whatever blow she was going to receive won out. ‘Maybe it’s a more authentic approach to marriage in the eighteenth century? A strategic alliance rather than a love match?’

She snorted. ‘Oh, yeah. I hear the Jacobites were really progressive on the gay-marriage front.’

As tempting as it was to admit he was grasping at straws here, admitting he didn’t have a clue what happened in the series would be bad. Willa and the other visitors had paid a lot of money to be here with the so-called Jacobean experts. Not to mention the fact that Orla had already spent money to earn money and refunds were out of the question.

‘Aye,’ he said vaguely and then, because he realised the answer actually mattered to her, added, ‘It’s a little-known fact.’

Willa gave him the side-eye, shook her head, then turned to head out towards the main entryway. ‘I’ve got to find out what’s going on. Gabe’s my responsibility.’

Responsibility?

He reached out and grabbed her arm again. She stared at his hand on her arm, then up at him. ‘Wow. You really like to manhandle your women, don’t you?’

He instantly released her and held his hands up. ‘Sorry. Sorry. I just . . . Orla said this was likely to happen.’

‘Hang on.’ Willa’s features screwed up in confusion. ‘You knew this was going to happen and did it anyway? You deliberately put someone in front of Gabe who’d make him run for the hills. In a foreign country. With a head wound. And you didn’t think to warn either of us?’

He could point out that the head wound hadn’t been a factor until she’d knocked him over with the luggage trolley but given that he was partly to blame for the incident, pointing out the particulars didn’t seem the wisest path to pursue.

‘Finn?’ Orla beckoned to him to join her just outside the archway.

‘What?’ he asked, not moving. There was only so much covering for her he was willing to do.

Her features tightened in frustration before she popped on her friendly-Orla face and asked, ‘Will you and your bride-to-be be joining us?’

‘Yes,’ he said at the exact same time as Willa said, ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Oh, dearie me.’ Orla wiped her hands nervously on her skirt. ‘Finn wasnae meant to be your laddie anyway. Never mind. I can rustle Dougie up from the fields if you just give me a few moments.’

Finn shot Orla a look.

‘I’m sorry.’ Willa’s disdain was clear. ‘You want me to borrow your husband so I don’t feel left out?’

Finn bridled on Orla’s behalf. Willa was obviously having a shit time, but Dougie was one of the nicest men on the planet.

‘How about I have a go with all of the hand-me-downs?’ Willa continued, clearly on a roll now. ‘Better yet, is the scarecrow free? Or why not crown me the resident spinster right now to get it over with.’

‘Well—’ began Orla.

Finn shot her a what-the-fuck look. ‘Hey.’ He readjusted his stance so that the only person Willa could see was him. ‘I asked to be your Jamie.’

She blinked at him in the way someone might start a slow hand clap.

Undeterred he continued. ‘I volunteered to marry you because, believe it or not, I wanted to get to you know you.’ In the way he might also be curious about a fire-eating dragon, but . . . every day was a school day.

She took the olive branch for what it really was, a challenge.

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, with a haughty lift of her right eyebrow. ‘I’ve bewitched you with my superlative breast?’

His eyes involuntarily went there.

‘Uh-uh.’ She pointed her index finger upwards. ‘Up here, sunshine.’

‘Trevor, one of the other lads, was supposed to be your Jamie.’ This was a total lie, but her arched eyebrows indicated she was prepared to listen. ‘I elbowed him out of it. Told him he’d be better off with Fenella.’

‘Why?’ Willa demanded.

Because Trevor was a lad’s lad and Fenella looked as though she could handle a bit of periodic ball-crushing. Willa? Not so much. ‘I wanted a chance to make up for being such a numpty at the airport.’