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“We must away down to the loch side for the final test,” Iona said, linking Martha’s arm on one side and Rosie’s on the other.
They accompanied the procession of women and children out across the drawbridge to where the men were gathered. Once outside, they were joined by an older, dour-faced man, whose expression would have soured the milk before it even left the cow.
“This is my husband…Sir Donald,” Iona said. Martha managed to hide her shock that such a vibrant, young woman was tied, not only to a man old enough to be her father, but one who looked, moreover, as though enjoyment was an alien concept to him. A glance at Rosie’s face told her that her young cousin shared her surprise.
The men were gathered at the loch side, and all attention was on a group of younger men who were bare-chested and barefooted, clad only in the long hose known to highlanders as trews. Fraser was among them, and he turned his head, gri
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“These are the wi
“But they’ll freeze.” Martha looked out across the loch. There was something sinister about waters so quiet and dark. She remembered Fraser’s comment that this loch was said to be bottomless. The thought of him being drawn into those endless depths made her shiver.
“Young Angus seems determined to win.” Iona nodded in the direction of a tall, young man. “’Tis woeful afeared he is that yon lassie’ll favour him no more if Fraser chooses to look her way.” The lassie in question was called Bre
“I’m cold,” she murmured, intent on escaping the situation. As she turned away, her head was bent and she wasn’t looking where she was going. She was soon brought to a halt by a large, immovable object. Since this object consisted mostly of muscle and smelled deliciously familiar, she knew immediately what—or rather who—it was. Fraser caught her by her upper arms and steadied her.
“Where are you off to, crabbit one? Not sneaking away again, I hope?”
“No, I was going inside to fetch my cloak.” She wished he wouldn’t smile at her quite that way. A fluttering heartbeat did nothing for her attempts to maintain her composure under the gaze of the curious highlanders.
“You look tired…almost as if ye did’nae sleep too well last night,” he said, the smile deepening into something that held a trace of wickedness. And a little something more.
“You should know,” she fired back swiftly. Biting her lip, she glanced around to see if anyone had heard. Fortunately, there was no-one close enough.
“Oh, I do. It was good, was it not?”
Instantly, the words and the accompanying look sent a dart of pure lust shimmying to her very core. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? Stop wanting you? I’ve tried that, Martha. I tried it with every fibre of my being when we were first at the old dower house together. It does’nae work.” A shout went up from the loch side, calling the men to the start line. Fraser sighed. “Hurry back. I want ye here when I win this race.”
“I’ve no desire to watch you kill yourself.”
“Ah, crabbit one, never did I think to hear you express such concern for the welfare of a hated Scotsman.” Fraser put his hand to his bare chest and covered his heart in a half-mocking gesture.
“It’s not that…I just don’t want to have to nurse you. I suspect you would prove to be a troublesome patient.” His laughter followed her as she ran lightly into the Tower House.
When Martha returned to join the spectators, the race was underway. The light was already fading into that uniquely Scottish midafternoon twilight, and the ru
“I’ve never known Fraser to lose at this,” he said, sca
Martha refrained from pointing out several reasons why wi
She was surprised, therefore, when the first swimmers came into view and an excited shout went up. “The laird is in the lead!” There was a rush toward the banks of the loch, with several people, including Auld Rab, coming perilously close to tumbling in.
“It’s going to be close,” Jack said, as another swimmer drew level with Fraser.
“It’s young Angus,” Rab called. “Who’d have thought a wee stripling laddie could challenge the laird?”
Martha cast a glance at Bre
Around them the shouts were reaching a crescendo as, neck and neck, the two swimmers thrashed their way to the finish. It seemed to Martha that the two men touched the bank at precisely the same second.
“The laird wins,” Rab declared without hesitation.
This blatantly partisan a
“’Twas a good race, lad,” Fraser said, holding out his hand.
Angus gazed up into Fraser’s smiling face with an expression of loathing. He ignored Fraser’s hand. “Aye, ’twas a good race for cheats, my laird.” His voice was shaky with shock and anger.
Jack stepped forward. “Steady, lad. Think before you speak.”
Angus dashed a trembling hand over his lips. “I’ll not be silenced. Not when we all know what he is.” He drew a deep breath. “Aye, our fine laird! Nought but a lecher and a cheat. A man who wants a young bride to warm his bed and gi’ him lusty sons but who can think of nothing but his whey-faced English whore—”
He had hit the ground before he could finish his sentence. One moment the young Scot was spitting out jealous venom, the next he was flat on his back on the grass with Fraser’s bare foot planted firmly in the centre of his chest. Even across the distance of several feet that separated them, Martha could see the cold fury in the hazel depths of Fraser’s eyes.
“Let us get one thing straight here, laddie.” Fraser leaned over Angus, but his words were clearly intended to reach all those present. “I understand your hurt, and because I understand it, I am prepared to let your comments about me pass. But there is a lady here about whom, if you must speak of her at all, you will only ever utter words of respect. Do I make myself very clear?”