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‘Good, but not enough, Bryce.’ Orla narrowed her eyes at him. Her cousin was infuriating and careless, and he thought a handsome face, a little charm and a smile would solve all his woes.
‘You should not worry about the scandal, you know,’ said Bryce. ‘A new outrage has overtaken yours amongst the ladies of Inverness, and it concerns Meg Erskine.’
Orla hated that he could distract her so easily, but he’d always had that knack. ‘Mousy little Meg?’
‘Aye. It seems young Ewin McTaggart could not satisfy her in the marital bed, and rumour has it, there is a lover lurking in the shadows.’
‘Oh, God. It’s not you, is it?’
‘Absolutely not. I have mended my ways. But my point is that the rumour mill had ground onto new flesh, so you are forgotten.’
‘I am glad of it, though I don’t care a jot for what folk say about me,’ Orla replied. ‘Let the old cats of Inverness marvel at my lack of propriety. Let them point and stare. ‘Tis nought to me.’
‘And why is that, cousin?’
‘Because I am blissfully happy.’ Orla beamed at Bryce. ‘And I am in love - deeply, madly, passionately.’
Bryce frowned and put his face in hers. ‘With whom?’
‘Why, Wolfric, of course, you hound,’ said Orla, thumping him in the arm.
‘Well, I must admit astonishment at this turn of events. I thought you two heartily despised each other.’
‘That is all forgotten. We are in love, and we are so alike, Wolfric and I - two fiery souls that have been fortunate enough to have found peace in each other.’
Bryce’s smirk faded. ‘Then I congratulate you, dearest cousin. Sincerely, I do. To let love into your heart in this world is a great feat of courage.’
Orla was taken aback by the gravity in his tone and the sadness in his eyes. ‘What’s amiss, Bryce? You are not yourself.’
‘That is because I have lost myself, Orla. I have longed to tell someone of my troubles, but I could only confess them to Callum.’ He looked away over the loch where a flock of geese were skidding to a landing in a flurry of wings and honking. ‘I have sinned most grievously, and it almost cost a man his life.’
‘How, Bryce?’ said Orla in alarm. Her cousin was not, by nature, a violent man, though he could certainly hold his own in a fight.
‘I lay with a married woman, cousin,’ said Bryce, hanging his head. ‘In my defence, her husband was fearfully old and decrepit, quite repulsive in truth, and ‘twas no love match. And she pursued me as much as I pursued her. She said their union was an arrangement over land and money, nothing more. But the brunt of it is, the husband found out, and instead of ignoring her adultery, as many do in loveless marriages, he called me on it. The old fool challenged me to a duel and would not back down. Pistols at dawn up at Scaven Glen.’
Orla put a hand to her mouth. ‘Heavens. What happened?’
‘I didn’t even want to fight him, but he shot right at me, Orla. Not in the air, as a gentleman is supposed to. I can only suppose that he had some love for his wife after all and must have got his blood up. What could I do but shoot back in my own defence? Anyway, he winged me on the arm, hardly a scratch, and I hit him in the shoulder.’
‘Well, that is not too bad, Bryce.’
‘Orla, I almost killed him that day from the shot itself. Then the wound festered afterwards, and I thought I had done for him. I have spent these last weeks praying for his recovery, or else I would be little better than a murderer.’
‘But I have heard nothing of this.’
‘Nor will you. Duelling is illegal, Orla. We could both swing for it if word gets out. My father and the man’s family covered it all up. And thankfully, my prayers have been answered, and the old dodderer has recovered now.’
‘Who was the woman?’ said Orla.
‘Does it matter, cousin? And I cannot tell you. I have sworn to all concerned, on what scant honour I have left, that I will take this to the grave.’
‘So ‘tis done with then?’
‘Not exactly.’ Bryce shook his head at her. ‘I feel it, Orla - the guilt of it. And so I should, for I have always been careless in my affections. My folly almost caused the death of a man, and I am heartily ashamed of myself.’
‘Well, that makes two of us, for I have nothing to be proud of either, consorting with a redcoat and a vile one at that.’
Bryce picked up a stone and skimmed it effortlessly across the glassy surface of the loch, just as they did when they were grubby bairns together. ‘A man cannot be led through life by his cock,’ my father says, and he is not wrong, is he?’ said Bryce. ‘I must change my ways before it is too late.’
