CHAPTERTWO
French wine was something all Scotsmen enjoyed. That was the one thing Bryce had chosen to put in his bags when he left France. He wanted to give a bottle to his brother as a wedding gift, and so he’d instructed a servant to leave it in the Laird’s chambers. Judging by his older brother’s current waistline, Watt was no stranger to imbibing. There was the church wedding and then the feast when the barrels of wine and ale had been officially tapped, and they were set to flowing.
Bryce was enjoying one such cup of wine on the edge of the festivities. He kept his eyes on the people that filled the space under the canvas pavilion. Night had fallen, but the heat from the day still lingered in the air. The alcohol and dancing were keeping people warm as well. His eyes moved from one happy figure to the next, judging, assessing. He couldn’t help it. After so many years in battle, one had to learn to size up one’s enemies. It was all part of the terrible “game” that he’d had to learn.
At least he didn’t get any bad feelings watching the dancers and musicians. The whole scene was filled with happiness and celebration. His brother was sitting at the head table, his arm around his young pretty wife, Lilias, daughter of a neighboring Laird. They were looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. Bryce watched as Watt leaned close to Lilias and whispered something in her ear.
Bryce tore his eyes away, an old feeling of desire for companionship running through him. He hadn’t thought of it in a long while, but now watching his brother as happy as he was, the traitorous feeling had returned. Just as quickly, Bryce squelched it down. His eyes landed on Lorna, and the heavy dark brooding feeling lifted with surprising ease.
Lorna was watching Watt and Lilias too, and suddenly, Bryce remembered his duty. He left the side of the festivities and walked up to Lorna. When he arrived at her side, she turned to him and shrank back, as if he was a dangerous animal ready to bite her.
“Och, here ye are then,” she said with a tiny blush in her cheeks.
Bryce chuckled, despite his earlier low mood. “Aye, as I said I would be. I couldnae find ye in the church, so I waited until the feasting time. Will ye nae eat?” He asked, looking around at the tables piled high with food.
Lorna shook her head with a frown, and Bryce was given a view of the shimmer of her blonde hair in the torchlight. It was golden of varying hues, and he was amazed at how much more grown up she’d become in the last six years. When she looked at him again, he could see the same gold flecks in her eyes, and he could feel himself sucking in a breath. The lass was beautiful, a fine lady, and she had filled out in all the womanly areas, making a man’s desire easily grow.
What is bloody wrong with ye? Ye have a job tae do, tae keep her away from Watt, nae lust after her.
“Have a drink then,” he said, and he led her to a table and bid her to sit, pouring her a cup of wine and putting it before her.
She snickered, “Are the servants nae supposed tae do those types of things? A Laird’s brother and famed warrior reduced tae pouring wine for the wedding guests.”
He grinned. Lorna had grown an even sharper tongue in the past years as well. He sat down across from her. The space was loud, full of laughter, footsteps, clinking of cups, and music, but sitting down, they seemed to have the room to themselves. He let his eyes drag to Watt and Lilias at the far end of the pavilion, and his brother was giving him a grateful nod.
“Pouring wine is hardly an effort. I will gladly do it anytime. For meself or a bonny lass.” He smiled again, catching Lorna’s eye, and she blushed, her lips parting. His eyes moved there.
Bonny mouth too.
He shook his head, trying to get himself under control. He hadn’t drunk this much in a long time. Perhaps it was the drink which was making him think things and notice things he hadn’t noticed earlier when bumping into her in the keep’s corridors.
She took a sip of the wine, looking at Watt and Lilias with a sigh. “I suppose it really was a fool’s errand after all. Kyla was right.” Bryce winced when he thought he could see Lorna’s eyes fill with tears.
“Kyla?” he asked softly, and she didn’t look at him.
“My companion. She told me it was foolish tae try my last chance tae convince Watt of me love.” She blushed deeply, looking up at Bryce. “I donnae ken why I am telling his brother, though.”
He shrugged, happy for the confidence. “Might as well. Ye return tae yer family tonight, aye?”
“Aye,” she said with a nod.
“Then all will be forgotten, and ye can move on with yer life. Watt and his bride will be here, and ye will be there. All will be finished. Ye donnae even have tae see him again if ye donnae wish.”
Lorna nodded sadly, and Bryce wondered if he’d said the right thing. She took a long draught of her wine, nearly finishing the cup, and Bryce felt a little guilty, belittling her affection for his brother. He’d known that she’d always looked at Watt with a sort of affection when they were younger, but he hadn’t thought it would ever grow to this sort of pining. The way she looked at Watt made Bryce’s chest tighten.
No woman had ever looked at him like that. Watt was a lucky man to have two beautiful women watching him as if he was Jesus incarnate. Bryce decided that a change of subject would do them both well. His head was swimming with all the wine he’d drunk, and he’d rather get away from all the noise and commotion. It brought up too many memories of warfare, and he’d rather forget all of them. Leave them like the ashes of Joan of Arc in the flowing, gray waters of the Seine. He was attempting to break from the past by returning to Scotland, but images still flitted through his brain.
He cleared his throat. “Do ye have a carriage tae take ye tae the McAdam keep, lass?” he asked, brushing a hand on the back of his neck. Being around Lorna again was making his neck itch. Especially since he didn’t know exactly how to speak to her now that she was a full-grown woman. And one full of sorrow.
“Aye.” She finished the rest of the wine and began to watch the dancers. Their boots and slippers were scudding across the pounded earth at the center of the pavilion. The rain from the night before had finally dried up, but it was still moist enough to keep the dust from rising at the fury of the dancer’s feet.
“Well, the night is upon us now,” he said stupidly, his eyes looking out at the darkness beyond the keep’s torchlights. “It isnae safe for a lass tae travel on her own.”
Lorna shrugged. “I will travel with my companion. The carriage will be ready for us.”
He swallowed and tried again. Something inside him was bidding him to do this. He wanted to help her, of course, but he also had no interest in staying in the castle with his brother the few days after his wedding, if Watt and Lilias were going to look at each other as they were. Besides, Watt would want him to do this. It would be distracting Lorna, would it not?
“Let me take ye, lass. Let me accompany ye. For safety.” He knew that it wasn’t exactly a profound explanation, but it would have to do. He had no intention of telling her how likely it was that Watt would appreciate his assistance.
