AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When they were almost upon her, Orla held the knife out and braced herself for trouble as one man rode boldly up to her. He was broad-shouldered and hulking. He leant forward on his pommel and said in a deep husky voice, ‘Are you intending to open my belly with that, dear cousin?’
‘Bryce! Damn your eyes. You gave me a fright,’ said Orla.
‘No more than you deserve for being out in this tempest all alone.’
He dismounted and threw back his plaid to reveal dark blonde hair and a sickeningly charming smile. It almost made Orla forget that her cousin was a womaniser, a rascal, and probably up to no good with this latest visit to her father, who had always nurtured a terrible soft spot for his dashing nephew.
‘I could be a cutpurse or worse, Orla, so you are lucky it is we two ruffians who happened along and not some thugs who would do you harm,’ said Bryce, jerking his head at his companion.
‘Not lucky for you, for I am in the mood to stab someone,’ said Orla, watching Bryce’s tall, brawny friend take shelter under a tree, turning his back to them.
‘It seems I am visiting at a bad time.’
Orla sighed. ‘No more so than usual. Why has Callum come? He hates company.’
‘My friend is here to keep me out of trouble and to heal his pride which has been wounded by a lass.’
A boom of thunder was followed by forked lightning. ‘He will get struck if he stays under that tree,’ said Orla. ‘And for whom does he yearn?’
‘Poor Callum was all set to wed a lass in Inverness - good family, his father’s choice, of course, for there was no particular attachment on his part. But it seems they did not lay the foundations of his proposal too well, and he had a rival, so the lady’s hand has gone elsewhere.’
‘Then I am sorry for him.’
‘Do not be. ‘Tis his pride hurt, not his heart. That part of him remains a mystery to us all.’
Indeed, Callum Ross was a taciturn fellow, gruff by nature, with a glare on him that could curdle milk.
‘Perhaps he can offer for you instead, unwed as you are,’ said Bryce with a wicked grin and a shoulder bump.
‘Do not poke the mad dog, for you may get bitten, cousin,’ snapped Orla. ‘And I may be closer to matrimony than I want.’
‘You? Wed! Whatever can you mean?’
She was loath to tell Bryce, for though she was fond of her handsome cousin, he was sure to make sport of her worries. Orla took a deep breath.
‘Meg Erskine is to wed Ewin Mc Taggart. It is the issue of the day, apparently.’
‘Meg? That little sprout? I recall her as a mousey, shivering, skinny thing. And Ewin is such a big, lumbering dolt. He is sure to crush her to death, consummating the damn thing. I cannot think of two wretches less well suited to the marriage bed,’ laughed Bryce.
‘Aye, well, their happiness is not the issue here. It is the fact that they might jeopardise mine. My parents are appalled at the union.’
‘Aye, the notion of the McTaggarts getting into bed with the Ewins, quite literally, in fact, well, that will put the cat amongst the pigeons as the next meeting of the clans. So, I suppose your parents would prefer you to wed the hapless Ewin. Are they offering you up on a platter, cousin?’
‘No far worse. The marriage will go ahead, with my own to rival it.’ Orla’s frustration rose up like a pot boiling over. ‘Bryce, my father wants to arrange an equally grand match for me without antagonising any of his allies. So he is to arrange a contest, with me as the grand prize.’
‘You, a prize!’ said Bryce, guffawing loudly before recovering himself and straightening his face. Callum glanced over from under the tree and then resumed staring down the glen into the rain.
‘Aye, there is to be a race, or some infernal thing, Bryce, and the man who wins gets to wed me. And do stop laughing. There is nothing amusing here.’
Bryce snorted again, flirting with death. ‘My word, as schemes go, this has to be the maddest your father has ever conjured up. There must be more to it, surely?’ he said, stifling his mirth with a fist to his mouth.
‘They are impatient to get their old unmarried daughter off their hands so that someone else can have my keep. And they can’t offend one clan or another, so any contest will be impartial so that they seem to show no favour.’
‘With the added frisson of you not knowing who you are to be wed to.’
‘Ah, but that is the rub. I do know. They are to arrange a contest only one man is sure to win.’
‘Life is never sure, cousin, trust me. And who is this lucky fellow?’
