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‘She is Orla Munro now, remember,’ replied Wolfric.
‘How could any of us forget? And aye, I will own she rode well that day. I understand she still enjoys riding out and particularly enjoys the beauty of that land up at Wildwood Glen.’ Robbie frowned. ‘Very remote it is, aye, lonely, not many folk around up there. One can ride for miles through its valleys and woods and not see a single soul.’
Wolfric’s jaw worked, and Orla’s breath quickened. Robbie looked far too smug. The wretch was building up to something, and she did not like it.
‘You have said your piece, now get out of my way,’ said Wolfric.
Robbie put his hand on Wolfric’s forearm. ‘Hold. I have not finished,’ he said loudly, looking around the assembly room to ensure he had an audience. ‘I would have you know that I ride all over the county and sometimes go to Wildwood Glen myself. And what I saw there recently makes me think that in losing that race, I was the lucky man that day.’
No, he couldn’t have seen. Orla struggled for something to say to shut Robbie up. She caught sight of Nash coming forward, his face horrified, and the rest of the assembly craning their necks for a better look at the storm which was about to break.
Wolfric put his face into Robbie’s. ‘Next time I find you on my land, you will be thrown off it.’
‘Tis just as well I roam, Munro, for otherwise, I would not have seen your wife on a tryst with a redcoat in a secluded part of the woods.’
Orla’s stomach turned over, and Wolfric pulled his arm free of her hand.
‘What tryst? Speak before I throttle you.’
‘She was there, in the woods, with him,’ said Robbie, pointing straight at Nash.
Wolfric glanced at Nash and then at her. There was a storm behind his eyes, so the lie came out of her mouth without a second thought, but it choked her throat and made her croak out her words. ‘He is lying, Wolfric. He is lying to get back at us for losing that race. I swear.’
Wolfric turned to Robbie. ‘My wife is devoted to me. Indeed, we are devoted to each other. I trust her implicitly, and she would not lie. You are the liar, Dunn.’ He jabbed Robbie in the shoulder hard, making the man lurch backwards.
‘I’m no liar. I saw her,’ he cried.
Wolfric jabbed him again. ‘Did falling on your arse during that race wound your pride so deeply? Do you really need to revenge yourself on a lass with this lie just because she beat you? A man of any character does not need to do that, though perhaps you’ve not enough between your legs to warrant the description.’
‘I saw her, Munro. I did. The two of them were locked together at Wildwood, kissing.’ Robbie pressed home his accusation. ‘She is an adulteress, Munro, which makes you a cuckold and a fool. I swear on my life.’
‘Keep swearing on it, and it will be your life, Dunn.’
Major Sutherland stepped between them. ‘Gentlemen, let us have no violence here.’
‘I prefer violence,’ snarled Wolfric.
The Major’s eyebrows shot up. ‘The honour of my officers is above reproach, and I am sure this Dunn chap was mistaken, but I will ask the question to clear the air. Is any of this true, Captain Nash?’
‘Absolutely not, Sir,’ said Nash. ‘I swear on my honour that I have never met Lady Munro, save that one time we visited Blackreach in search of our lost comrades.’
‘Well, that’s it, then.’ The Major turned to Robbie and barked, ‘A soldier’s word is stone, and you may depend on it. The matter is settled. Dunn, you should apologise to Munro for maligning his good lady, and you should apologise to me for impugning the good name of Captain Nash and my regiment.’
‘Apologise?’ shouted Robbie. ‘Never. Why should I, when I am in the right? I saw what I saw and stand by my accusation that Orla Munro is free with her favours.’
‘If you will not offer an apology, then I will have to force one out of you, wretch,’ snarled Wolfric.
‘Steady now, son,’ said Rufus.
‘If you are suggesting a duel, then I gladly accept,’ spat Robbie.
Orla was powerless to intervene and felt a hundred eyes on her. She wished Robbie would just shut his mouth and go away. Then to her relief, the Major intervened.
‘You cannot duel,’ he shouted. ‘It is contrary to the King’s law.’
‘Aye, Major, and duels are for fops,’ snarled Wolfric. ‘Highland law calls for something more barbarous. I think a brawl is more in order. I propose fists, not pistols.’
Robbie’s face fell, and his gaze darted around the company. To back down now would be a loss of face from which his reputation would never recover. He set his jaw and said, ‘Aye, alright. I suppose a brute like you knows no other way.’
