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‘But come, you must be a little curious? Ask me something, anything.’
‘Alright. I heard you were banished for a good while. You travelled?’
‘Aye, to England, France and beyond.’
‘Why were you sent away?’
‘I wasn’t sent. I chose to go. And that is a tale for a long, cold night. Perhaps I will save that for when we are snuggled together.’
‘You will save it a long time, then.’
He smiled right at her, sending a light into his eyes that was both charming and irritatingly beautiful. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘This must suffice. I had a falling out with my father over a marriage he had arranged for me.’
Orlas twisted in the saddle to look at him. ‘You were betrothed?’
‘Only in my father’s opinion. I was young, nought but eighteen. She was older, a widow, rich but unappealing. I told him I would not wed her, and he told me to marry or get out of his sight until I had come to my senses, so I did. Luckily for me, she eventually wed elsewhere.’
‘And yet, on his command, you have married me for riches.’
‘Have I?’ he said.
‘You said as much.’
‘Aye, I suppose I did, lass. But I must own that I am older now. Marriage has lost some of its horror for me, and you are a more appealing prospect than that old widow.’
‘How flattering. And don’t lie. I know you wed me for the land at Wildwood Glen, for it is well known to be lush and fertile, and it yields well.’
‘I am hoping not just the land,’ said Wolfric, winking at her. ‘And you are not blameless in this. Face it. You were desperate to catch a husband, so you conceived this plan with your family. The favoured Robbie Dunn did not prove man enough, so now you are mine. And I have no more wish to be shackled to you than you have to be stuck with me for a husband, but here we are. Yet I must confess that I am not too put out. There is something lush about you, too, in this warm afternoon light. If only you would stop scowling, you could be quite a handsome woman, Orla Gordon.’
‘Mockery is a very low form of wit, you know.’
‘Tis not mockery. I am in earnest. Take the compliment, lass, for I do not give many.’
Wolfric seemed sincere, but then he smirked, and it lingered in his eyes, and Orla wanted to scratch them out.
‘Soon, we will be at Blackreach where you can settle in and get to know me better, lass,’ Wolfric continued, raising her hackles.
‘Finally, something to look forward to,’ she replied with a scowl. If he could be sarcastic, so could she.
‘Being at odds won’t get either of us anywhere, lass. Now….’
‘Hush. Listen,’ hissed Orla.
Hoofbeats sounded ahead, and suddenly, a flurry of red and white burst through the trees.
‘Redcoats,’ snarled Wolfric. ‘It is too late to get off the track and avoid them. ‘Get behind me, and be ready to ride away.’
‘Why? You are not going to pick a fight, are you?’
‘Not with you in tow, no.’
‘Well, I can take care of myself and….’
‘Aye, maybe you can cut them with that tongue of yours. Orla, keep it from wagging now, and let me do the talking.’
The troop of three soldiers came to a halt, blocking their path. They had all the belligerence and rough manners of the lower ranks. One was young, barely fifteen, Orla guessed, and painfully thin. He looked nervous. The other two were older, with calculating expressions, oozing English arrogance.
‘What do we have here?’ said one, a burly man, as he spat on the ground. ‘A buck and his doe out for a canter.’
