“Moira, ’tis yer turn to partake in the revelry,” Bearnard beckoned.
“I think not,” Moira retorted sharply. “Such games are better suited for those who find amusement in the spectacle. I’m not one of those.” She turned her attention to her sister. “Yer hair is wet and escaping yer braid.”
Lucas and Horas closed in on either side of Moira, nudging her firmly toward the tub. With a resigned sigh, she stepped forward. Though she had no desire to participate, if she must, she would do well at it. It was in her nature to always win.
As Moira leaned over the tub, Ailis watched closely, sensing something was amiss. It was then that she realized the men were using the game to lower their defenses with drink.
“Moira,” Ailis whispered urgently when her sister resurfaced with an apple. “They seek to cloud our judgment with spirits. We need to keep our senses about us.”
Moira’s eyes narrowed in understanding. “Fear not, Ailis. They’ll find the McAfee sisters are not so easily swayed by a barrel of apples and a splash of rum.”
Together, they stood in the middle of the crowd, duty demanding their participation but their shared will seeing them through unscathed. An idea came to Ailis and she leaned toward Moira. “Let’s go fix our hair. When we return, we’ll try to get more information from the men. Perhaps, they will be addled with drink, as they are trying to force us to be.”
Moira and Ailis exchanged glances. Ailis gestured toward the tapestried archway beyond the great hall. As they neared, they were blocked by a guard.
“Back to the festivities,” he commanded coldly. “Laird Gordon insists all guests partake until he declares the contest over.”
“We would like to repair our hair after our turn was taken. Is that allowed?” Ailis asked.
The guard shook his head. “Nay. Go back.”
Ailis sighed and guided her sister back into the crowd for cover. “We’ll blend in and find reprieve there,” she whispered.
They navigated through the sea of bodies and found Lachlan and Brodie. “Good morrow, Lachlan, Brodie,” Ailis greeted. “Our suitors’ intentions are very clear—they seek to addle our senses with drink.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “Fear not, for ye and Moira shall remain under our watchful eye.” Brodie nodded silently.
“Yer aid is most appreciated,” Ailis replied. “Ye would think they would know we understand they are trying to ply us with drink.”
“We’ll stand together,” Lachlan declared. “There is no need for ye to give into their schemes.”
“We are hoping they will soon be addled from drink, and then we can ask them questions they may finally answer.”
“That’s a good plan,” Lachlan replied with a smile. Then he glared at the raucous scene with disdain. “Patience can serve as a shield in times of folly.”
Ailis nodded skeptically, watching another man lunge face-first into a barrel to retrieve an apple with his teeth. “I cannae believe the laird insists we participate in such an absurd task,” she mused.
“Truly a spectacle without dignity,” Moira chimed in, her lips curling into a wry smile while tugging discreetly at her sleeve.
Lachlan chuckled, eyes crinkling with amusement. “One might argue it reveals more about the people around us than intended.”
“However revealing it may be,” Ailis replied, “it serves no purpose for those who seek respect and partnership. We’ll do what we can to make the most of it though.”
Their quiet camaraderie was interrupted by the approach of the three suitors: Bearnard, Lucas, and Horas, each flushed andunsteady. They clumsily inserted themselves between the sisters and the McClains.
“Ah, there ye are!” Bearnard slurred, leaning closer to Ailis. “Ye hinnae had yer turn yet. Come, let us see how ye fair!”
“I have had me turn. I am finished,” Ailis replied, doing her best to be polite with the men.
“Aye,” Horas added, seeming not to have heard Ailis. “It is a grand tradition that is not to be missed by fair maidens.”
“Tradition or not,” Ailis began, “I lack enthusiasm for such an activity and since I have taken me turn, I dinnae plan to do so again.” Her stance remained resolute as she braced for further protestations.
Moira stood silent, eyes darting to Lachlan and Brodie for support. It was clear that the sisters’ afternoon would unfold under the watchful presence of their persistent admirers.
Ailis sensed eyes upon her, their gazes heavy with expectation and tradition. She stood still as Lucas positioned himself by her side, blocking Lachlan’s path.
“Lucas,” Lachlan cut in, “why do ye stand so close to Ailis? Am I not permitted to be at her side?”
