‘Laird Dunbar, the honour is all mine.’ Maren favoured him with her sweetest smile. ‘Forgive our tardiness, but you know how us newlyweds are.’ She lowered her eyes in sham modesty.
‘Aye, she could barely bring herself to forsake my bed, could you, my dear,’ said Bryce.
Maren heard a few titters from the mounted ladies nearby, making her face burn. One amongst them regarded her with hawkish green eyes and a frown. She did not approach and seemed to be taking stock of her somehow. The lass was tall and comely, and her mount was huge and incredibly ugly, making her stand out amongst the few other ladies who rode dainty, pretty horses. Whoever she was, the lass obviously disapproved in some way. Perhaps she was an old lover of Bryce.
‘Are we to hunt, Father, or spend all day gabbling like women? My cousin can crow about his nuptials later when we return for refreshment, can he not?’ A young man had ridden forward, and he turned hard eyes to Bryce. His mouth was set in a thin line, and he was the one who had snapped at the nasty woman in the yellow dress.
The man was fairly handsome, of similar colouring to Bryce, yet he had none of his heart-stopping beauty. The man’s eyes were a common blue, his shoulders not so broad, and his jawline softer, less manly. Aye, he was a pale imitation of his cousin, to be sure. And his face was petulant, a picture of impatience. Bryce’s glare in the man’s direction did not escape Maren. It seemed there was no love lost between them.
‘Aye, let us ride out, Hew, and I promise I will crow loudly and at length at day’s end, for I have made a most fortunate choice of wife, have I not, as did you, of course?’ said Bryce rather loudly, drawing an audience. ‘Who would not want to show off his jewel?’ Bryce leaned over, grabbed Maren round the back of her neck and planted a hearty kiss to great applause and laughter from the assembled company.
Maren kicked his horse in the ribs, and it veered away out of range before the urge to slap Bryce’s smug face grew too strong. Instead, Maren smiled and acted the simpleton. After all, a bargain was a bargain, but she resolved to flirt shamelessly with that Hew fellow later to get revenge for Bryce’s mockery.
‘Aye, let us make haste and ride,’ shouted a fellow from the back of the pack. It was Fergal McMullan. ‘Lady Cullan,’ he drawled, acknowledging her with a nod. He said the words slowly enough for them to carry a slight.
As they turned to ride out, a big man clattered into the yard and came alongside them. He stopped and glared at Maren, and her heart skipped a beat, for there was such anger on his dark face.
‘So it is true,’ the man snapped, jerking his head at Maren. ‘It seems your oldest friend must learn of your marriage from servants’ gossip. I am at a loss as to how to account for this.’
‘Callum. Ease yourself. I was going to ride over and tell you, but there was much to do and no time,’ said Bryce.
‘Of course. You have my congratulations, Lady Cullan,’ he said with a curt nod in Maren’s direction. The man’s jaw set in an angry line as he kicked his horse hard and sped out ahead of them.
Bryce said nothing, glancing at her with a frown and a shake of his head, but he looked discomforted. They rode out at a blistering pace, and Maren took a low stone wall at speed, clearing it easily and making for the head of the pack. There was no way she would let these pompous asses triumph over or humiliate her.
***
Maren rode on, steeling herself for a long day. It seemed that she had made enemies already, but she had a knack for that, and she had not held back on the ride. She had already shown she was more in command of a horse than any of the women there, apart from the tall blonde who Bryce had said was his cousin, Orla, the finest horsewoman in the county. She certainly lived up to this reputation and the woman intrigued Maren. Yet she did not approach, and Maren could feel her blue-eyed gaze on her constantly. There had been no time for further introductions as they had ridden at pace so far, for the beaters had sent back a man to say they had the scent of a fox in the woods up ahead.
Bryce caught up with her at a river crossing and began admonishing her for recklessness. ‘Will your pride not allow you to hang back with me where you are safe?’ He had to shout to be heard over his mount’s hooves crunching into the gravel, the gurgle of the river, and the baying of hounds. ‘You took those hedges too fast.’
‘I take everything too fast, and I’ve no wish to be safe like these milksops. I can take anything this land throws at me and more. This terrain is soft compared to some land I have ridden.’
‘There is no need to show off and bring attention to yourself, lass.’
‘Aye, there is. No one can glower at me if I am at the front.’
‘Who is glowering?’
‘Your cousin, Orla, for a start. She has had eyes on me from the start, and they are not friendly.’
Bryce scoffed at her concerns. ‘That is just Orla’s way of testing you. She is forthright and inordinately fond of me, so she wants to see if you are worthy.’
‘I have nothing to prove to her or anyone, as I am not your bride, remember.’
‘Aye. And you need not fear Orla’s scrutiny. Her horse just threw a shoe, and she had to retire from the chase. No doubt she has gone back to Machrie in a fine temper. So slow down, and let me take the lead. The woods up ahead are treacherous to the unwary. There are gullies and ravines.’
Maren had to pull hard on the reins of her prancing stallion. ‘If you can’t keep up, Bryce, ‘tis your fault for giving me such a headstrong horse. I will not wait for you.’
‘I can more than keep up, and ‘tis not the horse that is headstrong.’
They had gained the bank, with the rest of their party crossing behind.
‘Wait here, Maren,’ said Bryce. ‘Can you do that without question, for I have something I must attend to?’
Maren nodded, and Bryce rode over to the big angry man, Callum, and they began a heated conversation. He had left her at the mercy of the pack of wolves wading through the river, the blackguard.
***
