Page 53 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Darragh awoke with a start, the chill of the Scottish morning air biting at his exposed skin. He groaned, feeling as if a thousand needles danced upon his sore muscles. His confusion was palpable. Why was he lying on a bed of hay instead of the soft comfort of Lara’s bed? As his mind cleared, the events of the previous night flooded back to him, and his heart sank with the realization that it had been his own choice.

"Och, what have I done?" he mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes.

Without warning, a torrent of icy water cascaded over him, poured from a bucket above. Darragh choked and coughed, sputtering as the liquid invaded his mouth and nose. The shock of the cold water seized his body, leaving him gasping for breath as it drenched him to the bone.

"Ye look like ye needed a wee bit of waking up," a voice called out, laughter lacing the words.

Darragh squinted through the droplets clinging to his lashes, recognizing the face of Gil, the one person who still spoke to him without malice or distrust. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite the indignity he'd just suffered, Gil's presence brought a small measure of solace amidst the turmoil of the recent days.

"Damn ye, Gil," Darragh grumbled, but he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. "I was already awake, ye ken."

"Aye, but ye were nae exactly lively now, were ye?" Gil countered, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Besides, it'll dae ye good, clear yer head a bit."

Darragh grimaced, rubbing a hand down his dripping face. "Well, thanks tae ye, I am wide awake now," he said. Gil 's grin widened, his expression mischievous.

Gil 's laughter echoed off the stone walls of the stable as he lowered the bucket.

"Good," Gil replied, his voice laced with amusement. "Now that yer nice and alert, perhaps ye can tell me what exactly happened last night?"

Darragh's scowl deepened. "Laird Campbell is what happened," he grumbled, turning away to fetch his plaid and putting it on.

Gil arched an eyebrow. "I saw it was him, but what was it? Ye nearly killed the poor man," he pointed out.

"He wasnae innocent in the matter," Darragh countered, shrugging. "I wasnae the only one with his hand on his sword, ye ken."

Gil snorted. "Aye, but he was the one whose throat ye were trying to rip out," he replied.

Darragh shook his head, running his fingers through his damp hair.

"He said something very insulting about Lara, Gil, and her honor comes before all else. But I would have done the same if it was ye he insulted," he retorted.

"That's a lie," Gil scoffed.

"Nae, I would have," Darragh insisted.

Gil sighed, shaking his head.

"I should have expected as much from ye," he muttered, leaning back against the wall of the stall. "Ye are always looking out for everyone else. But Quinn isnae happy at all. He thinks you were hostile without any reason and ruined the feast"

Darragh shrugged.

"Quinn is Lara's brother, he should understand."

"Aye, but he has a point, Darragh. Ye cannae keep doing this, ye ken," Gil said gently.

"What?" Darragh snapped. "Protecting Lara from a man like Gregor?!"

"That's nae what I mean."

"Then what do ye mean?" Darragh demanded, frustration creeping into his voice.

"I mean that Quinn still has doubts about ye," Gil explained.

Darragh shook his head, flinging droplets of water from his tangled blond hair, but he silently admitted Gil might have a point. The cold shock had driven away the lingering fog of sleep and given him a renewed sense of purpose.

"All right then," he conceded, rising to his feet with a wince as his aching muscles protested. "I suppose I should thank ye fer that invigorating start tae the day. And as for Quinn, I will try tae make things right."