Page 231 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Her cheeks flushed warm. “The games are for men.”

“Not the games I would play.”

She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

Rhoslyn pulled back. “We must go. I will fetch Andreana.”

He didn’t release her. “What is wrong, Rhoslyn?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, praying none of the panic welling up in her showed. “Nothing is wrong. But we promised everyone we would go. Andreana will be disappointed.”

His gaze, once again intense, searched hers. Finally, he gave a gentle smile. “As you wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Rhoslyn sat with Andreana on a plaid on the grass beneath a clear blue summer sky that reminded her of days when she was a child and chased butterflies among the heather on the hills beyond. Spectators crowded around the open field where St. Claire and young Colin stood toe-to-toe in readiness for the ball to be thrown into the air for their first game of shinty.

“Sir Talbot seems in good spirits,” Andreana said.

“Aye,” Rhoslyn said, though she wasn’t sure if the sparkle of humor in his eyes represented joy or the surety of a man about to annihilate his opponent. Probably both.

Everyone seemed in good spirits. The entire village had turned out for the festivities, as well as those from ten miles around. Jugglers meandered through the crowd tossing balls, fruit, or knives. Faint plucking of harps and psaltery drifted through the excited chatter. Rhoslyn began to relax. Bright sunshine made the day perfect for the games.

The ball sailed into the air. St. Claire and Colin leapt, sticks tangling, then St. Claire’s smacked the ball and it flew toward his teammates. They leapt toward the ball, with him and Colin matching stride with one another. The ball flew in St. Claire’s direction and he swung for it. Colin, who matched him in height and weight, shouldered him aside and swung at the ball. Rhoslyn tensed when St. Claire tumbled to the ground. He rolled and came to his feet, laughing as he took off after Colin.

“I will never understand men,” Andreana said. “They seem to love a hard tumble.”

“Aye, they do.” Rhoslyn smiled. “‘Tis one of the things we most like about them.”

“Are ye saying you like St. Claire?” Andreana asked.

Rhoslyn caught her dry humor.

“‘Tis just an observation,” she said.

“An observation about your husband.”

Rhoslyn ignored the astute remark and watched St. Claire catch up with Colin, who was now surrounded by his teammates as they hit the ball across the grass. St. Claire charged past Colin, jabbing him in the belly with an elbow as he passed. The younger man faltered. The ball whizzed past St. Claire. He changed course and an instant later, reached the ball as one of his opponents and a teammate did. St. Claire dodged in front of his opponent, giving his teammate the chance to hit the ball.

The man whacked the ball while several other teammates raced alongside him toward the far end of the field. The opposing team rushed after them. St. Claire weaved past two of their opponents and shot past his team as they neared the goal. His teammate with the ball hit it toward St. Claire, and he swung hard, sending the ball across the goals as Colin tackled him.

The crowd roared and several men jostled in front of Rhoslyn. She jumped to her feet and pushed past the men in time to see St. Claire clap Colin on the back. St. Claire noticed her and grinned. She shook her head. Andreana was right. Men liked being knocked to the ground.

The sun grew warmer as the day wore on and many of the men stripped down to their kilts. St. Claire wore dark breeches and, like the others, was now bare-chested as they lined up for a footrace. He had refrained from competing in the archery contest, for Andreana had pointed out that he had proven his archery skills by killing the boar that attacked Rhoslyn.

He cast Rhoslyn a grin, and her heart warmed as she smiled back. The man was having as much fun as the boys. She laughed inwardly. He was little more than an overgrown boy himself. His attention returned to his competitors and she allowed her gaze to slide across his chest. A boy with the body of a full grown man. A tremor rippled through her at the memory of that broad chest poised over her as he thrust into her last night.

Lady Isobel stepped into view beyond St. Claire. She stopped in the shade of a large ash tree, her attention fixed on him. Ire flared at sight of her open appreciation. Grandfather was right. Isobel would seduce St. Claire without guilt. As if sensing her scrutiny, the lady shifted her gaze to Rhoslyn. Isobel started forward, and Rhoslyn quickly realized she was headed her way.

Isobel reached them. “Lady Rhoslyn. Lady Andreana.” She lowered herself onto the blanket beside Rhoslyn. “Such a perfect day for the games.”

Rhoslyn nodded. “It is.”

“Sir Talbot is doing well,” Isobel said. “His team won the shinty match due much to his efforts.”

“He is a skilled athlete,” Andreana said, though Rhoslyn noticed her gaze fixed on Sir Baxter, who stood talking with a group of men to their left.

“That he is,” Isobel agreed.

“How is Lord Herbert?” Rhoslyn said.