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I was warming to Sophie as much as I wanted to push her away.
Liar.
Okay, fine, so I wanted to pull her closer. But I couldn’t because I had to step into the role of preparing her as a Knight of the Order of Caledonia. Which, to be honest, I had no freaking clue what that involved. Agnes would, though.
Snagging Agnes’s sleeve as she passed by on her way to the food tent, I bent to her ear.
“I’m in. We need to train Sophie in whatever is necessary to get her started on restoring the Order. Look at this turnout. Worst I’ve ever seen. I won’t stand in your way anymore, I promise you that.”
“Well then, ice must have formed on the lakes of hell.” Agnes gave me an approving smile. “Tonight, then. We’ll get started.”
“Tonight?” Usually, we’d all gather and celebrate after the games concluded.
“Tomorrow, then,” Agnes conceded. “You’ll need to be patrolling the loch. With an unusual amount of activity, the Kelpies may feel threatened.”
“Och…” I started to protest but caught the look she gave me. “Right then, I’ll be on patrol.”
“That’s a good lad.” Agnes patted my shoulder. “I’m off to grab a sausage roll before I start.” Agnes often announced the games when she wasn’t overseeing the crafts tables. Today, seeing the paltry turnout, she was likely comfortable with letting her assistant handle any purchases while she called the matches.
“Did you move the caber toss to later?” I asked. The ever-popular caber toss usually drew larger crowds, so I was hoping that by moving the event, more people would show up.
“I did. It’s the lesser events to start, and then we’ll go into broadswords before we end with the caber toss, hammer throw, and weight for height.” Agnes pulled her phone from her pocket, checking the time, and disappeared with a little wave.
As days went, it was another mild one—weather-wise—and though clouds still hugged the sky, I was grateful that rain hadn’t yet fallen. Hopefully, the promise of a relatively dry day would add to the appeal, and more people would show up by day’s end. I rubbed a hand over my chest, scanning the field for any problems I could solve, my eyes drawn back to Sophie like a heat-seeking missile.
Graham had found her, and my lip curled in distaste as she threw back her head and laughed at something he said. Why did he always have to zero in on every available woman who came to town? Didn’t he know that Sophie was off-limits? Here he was lecturing me about taking my head out of my arse and helping the village to defend against this curse, and he was busy chatting up the one person who could actually help us out of this mess? Annoyance flashed through me, and I was crossing the field before I could think twice about it, Agnes’s voice echoing in the background as she announced the first event over the loudspeaker. As cheers went up from across the field, I bypassed where two lads faced off, both wearing traditional kilts, and tapped their fists before crouching into position. Just as I reached Sophie, the whistle went and grunts filled the air.
“Oh my,” Sophie said, her hand to her chest as the men dove at each other, each trying to best the other in a match of brute strength.
“Well, now, I can’t say I’ve ever been one for wrestling before, but now I’m interested.” Matthew wandered forward to lean against a wooden fence that surrounded the field, Sophie following. She didn’t even greet me, though her back had already been turned when I arrived. That also annoyed me, and I glared at Graham when he clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s shaping up to be a fine morning, isn’t it, lad?” Graham asked, his eyes on Sophie.
That wasalsoannoying. Annoyance flared into anger, and I tore my eyes away from where Sophie’s jumper rode up as she leaned on the fence, revealing her very shapely bum and making me want to come up from behind and wrap my arms around her. She was much shorter than me, rounded in ways that made a man want to touch her body, and I had to push down the thoughts of pressing into all that softness. As a man, I was all hard edges and brute strength, something I worked for, and I loved nothing more than the contradiction of a soft and round woman against my hardness. Over me. Beneath me. I stifled those thoughts before I had an inappropriate reaction and was grateful my sporran covered me at my waist.
“You’re up early,” I said. Graham, like myself, wore his kilt with the casual ease of a Scotsman confident in his looks, and I didn’t even want to take a guess at what Sophie’s reaction had been when she’d seen him. Was that jealousy that was taking little stabs in my gut? Surely not, because it wasn’t in my nature to be jealous. Graham and I, while having lightly sparred for women over the years, never had well and truly fought over a love interest before.
Love. I scoffed as the thought rose unbidden to my mind. That was just…no. Nope. Not going there. There were just too many things to deal with at this moment to be having romantic thoughts about anyone. Sexual? Sure, no problem. I could imagine Sophie, naked and writhing, all day long. But love? I already had enough responsibilities on my plate. I didn’t need to be a caretaker for someone’s heart as well.
“What are you doing sniffing around Sophie?” I surprised myself by asking, and then wanted to punch myself. I never should have said anything of that nature. Graham was tricky like that. Once he knew something bothered me, he’d needle me with it for days. Iknewbetter, yet that beast of jealousy that was gnawing at my gut had apparently decided to speak for me.
“Och, lad, do you have a bee in your bonnet about that?” Graham’s eyes gleamed, and he rocked back on his heels, his expression visibly brightening. See? Once he had a bone to chew on, he wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m just having a wee chat with the lass.”
“You can drop the lass and lad, mate,” I said, accentuating my accent. “None of the tourists are around to hear.”
“It’s become a bit of a habit, I’ll admit. And, when you’ve got a bonnie lass such as Miss Sophie there, well, it’s hard not to be appreciating her…” Graham trailed off as I drove my fist into his stomach, pulling much of the power of the punch but using enough force to have him expelling a long breath of air. “Her mind, Lachlan. Her mind. The lass has good banter, that’s all.”
“Keep it at that,” I warned.
“You’re claiming her then?” Graham asked, rubbing the spot in his stomach where I punched him. A part of me wished he’d thrown a punch back, as adrenaline hummed just below my skin, seeking a release.
“Surely it’s not the olden days, is it then? Claiming her?” I arched my brow at Graham.
“You ken what I’m saying…” Graham said, crossing his arms over his chest. We both nodded in approval as one of the men on the field flipped the other onto his back and pinned him. Matthew clapped exuberantly, and I had to imagine he was deeply enjoying this particular competition.
“I just think if she is the actual Knight that you all have been waiting for, perhaps it is best not to distract her. Right?” I asked, turning back to where Graham studied me with that stupid gleam in his eyes again. “You’re the one all up in arms about protecting the village. Well, according to you all—it starts with her. And then you want to move in on her and pull her attention away from what she is here to do?”
“So you’renotclaiming her then?” Graham clarified, and I almost punched him again.
