Brigid was unusually quiet as they quickly washed and changed for the meal, but lost in her own thoughts, Margaret didn’t press her for an explanation.
The crowd’s reaction to the race bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t escape the twinge of apprehension that Eoin had been right. But what could she have done? Let a war break out between her brothers and Bruce’s men in the midst of truce for the peace talks?
It was so blasted different here, with all these rules and conventions that seemed so silly. She told herself that the good opinion of these people didn’t matter to her, but that wasn’t completely true. Eoin’s opinion mattered. And though she’d wanted to forget it, she was here for a reason. John Comyn’s opinion should matter to her as well. There was also Brigid. She knew her friend had been having a difficult time here, and swore to do her best to try to make it better for her.
No more races, she vowed. And maybe once her father’s anger cooled over losing the horse, he could be persuaded to lighten his sporran and buy them a few new dresses. Perhaps even a veil or two? That should make Brigid happy.
Indeed, as the girls made their way down to the Hall and Margaret confessed her plans, Brigid did seem a bit brighter.
Until they entered the Hall.
It was worse than Eoin had anticipated. The condemnation and disdain toward Margaret MacDowell by some of the women had never been subtle, but now it fairly reverberated throughout the room.
The Hall had seemed subdued before she and her friend entered, but it had turned holy-week-in-the-abbey quiet the moment they did.
It wasn’t just the race, but the alleged reason for it. It had taken Eoin awhile to figure out what people were buzzing about, but eventually his brother Neil filled him in. He seemed surprised Eoin didn’t know. Margaret had been seen leaving the old donjon last night after Fin in a state of dishabille. She’d challenged Fin to the race (and then “cheated” by jumping) to retaliate at him for spurning her. By the time Eoin heard the story from Bruce again near the end of the meal, she and Fin had not just been seen leaving, they’d been seen in the actual act of fornicating.
Eoin hotly denied it and tried to dispel the rumors, but people seemed inclined to want to believe the worst of her. She was different—too bold, too confident, too indifferent to their approbation—and they were making her pay.
Eoin was furious, with the person who’d started the false rumor but also with himself. This was his fault. He was the one who’d kissed her. If she’d looked disheveled, it was because of him. Someone must have seen Fin leave the room after he’d discovered them, and then seen Margaret when she’d left before Eoin. He knew it could have just as easily been him rather than Fin who was the subject of the rumors.
Not that Fin seemed to mind. Eoin eyed his friend, whose temper seemed to improve considerably as the meal wore on and the rumor spread. Eoin understood his friend’s anger at the blow to his pride over the race—Fin felt he’d been humiliated—but Eoin didn’t understand the glee that Fin seemed to take in her shunning.
Especially after what she’d done with the horse. She’d had every right to claim Fin’s palfrey as her prize. Despite the claim of “trickery” with the jump, she’d outridden Fin plain and simple.
Eoin had never seen anything like it. She seemed to sink into the saddle, to disappear into the beast until they’d been of one flesh. She was fearless. Light. Agile. Wild and unrestrained. It had been a sight to behold.
Although he could still feel the knot in his chest from where his heart had leapt out of his body when she’d jumped the corner over all those rocks.
The lass was wild. Outrageous. Too courageous for her own good.
And she was magnificent.
It was getting harder and harder to heed the reasons why she was so wrong for him.
He didn’t realize how closely he’d been keeping an eye on her during the meal until it was finished and he couldn’t find her.
Was something wrong? Had she heard something? Had someone been cruel to her?
He couldn’t stand the idea of someone hurting her and wished to hell he could shield her from all this.
Thinking she might be with Comyn, Eoin looked for him to no avail. He was about to go in search of him when his sister raced up to the table.
She looked ready to burst. “Did you hear?”
Anticipating what she was about to say, he stood and pulled her off to the side. “I hope you aren’t repeating gossip, Marjory.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You should consider yourself lucky.” She sighed. “Poor Fin.”
His sister had a young maid’s crush on his friend, but this was ridiculous. Fin wasn’t the one who deserved sympathy. “Poor Fin?”
She nodded. “Aye, to have escaped that harlot’s web. She seduced him and then tried to make him marry her!”
Eoin had had enough. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He took his sister’s arm and forced her to look at him with a shake that he hoped knocked some sense into that pretty dark head. “Fin had nothing to do with it. It was me. I was the one in the room with her and nothing happened. Nothing. I will not hear you repeat any of this again. Do you understand?”
Eyes wide, she nodded. “You?”
“Aye, me. So if anyone is responsible for these rumors, it’s me.”
