Page 26 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

“The chance to gloat that their clan is better, aye?”

She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Childish of ye, Jamie.”

And damn, but the moniker again made his heart skip like an eejit. She gathered her reins alongside her mount’s neck, patting the pretty beast. He grinned.

“Ye bring out the best in me, lass.” Turning to his nearby guardsman, he ordered, “Bother us nay. We’re off for a gallivant and will await the party from the forest’s edge.”

The knight nodded his nasal helm in compliance.

“Since ye challenge me, laddie,” she bated further, though he wondered if she, too, was anxious to break away from the party. “Ready…go!” she breathed, tapping her horse into motion, and launched ahead of him.

His grin never faltering, he shook his head and tapped Devil into a charge, overtaking her.

“I see ye’re a cheat, nàmhaid, jumping the start!” he taunted.

“As are ye!” she called back as her cloak billowed like shimmering banners behind her, and sakes, but a gorgeous, full grin had split her lips, the likes of which a man would want to litter with pecks as he acquainted himself to every secret within her kiss.

“How so?”

“Ye challenge me, and yet it’s ye who rides a prime stallion who isnae even exerting himself yet! Ye’re certain to win, and I needed the head start to even the stakes!”

He laughed, a husky, hearty sound. “I’d expect something so underhanded from a Grant!”

Her mouth dropped in feigned shock, though she laughed. “As I would from a MacDonald!”

“Careful, woman, ye’re one of my kind now!”

“Never!”

She urged her horse onward, overtaking him by a neck, which he leveled out easily, surging ahead.

“Cheat!” she called, inciting more laughter, and he glanced back to see plumes of powder rising in their wake as she made a champion’s effort to capture the lead.

Devil puffed onto the air, stretching his muscles after a day of lazing in the stable, and he indulged the horse, achieving the tree line several lengths ahead of her and jumping nimbly off his stallion before the beast had completely halted.

He dashed to a nearby tree while Devil panted, propping his shoulder against it, giving Aileana his back as she fast approached, and slouched, folding his arms and crossing a leg. Was he daft? Why was he playing at such sport with her—or anyone—when he, a grown man, had always been so serious? He’d had to be, as his father’s only son, and disdained by his stepmother at every opportunity. And yet it felt good to flirt. He harrumphed at that.

He peeked over his shoulder to see what Aileana was up to. She would need help down in her heavy layers of finery.

He yawned, stretched. “Ach, lass, I’ve been waiting for ye to catch me for so long, I must have dozed off—”

A hand ripped down the neck of his doublet, and an icy pillow of snow shocked his skin.

“Christ’s bones!” he cursed, jumping and whirling around as Aileana fell into a fit of laughter.

He shook out his doublet, feeling the snow melt down his back and soak into his tunic, and his shock slowly turned to mirth. Even in layers of beautiful but useless fabric, she was as nimble as he was, sneaking up on an enemy.

Giving her his full front, he smirked. “Would ye like to ken why they call me the Devil MacDonald?”

She righted herself, though her smile remained, as did a quiet giggle behind her pinched lips as he continued.

“Because of this!”

He swiped a branch of its snow and lobbed the powder back at her.

“Oh!” she jumped, the snow leaving a starburst upon her stomach.

He tipped his head back and guffawed a deep, rumbling laugh—