Page 73 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“Och, ye definitely are, Ian Wallace.” Her smile was sharp and confident. “But dinnae ye worry. I promise I’ll be gentle with ye when I come tae collect me winnin’s.”
Ian grinned despite his growing misgivings. “Is that so? We’ll have tae see about that!”
As he made his way back toward his own chambers to prepare for whatever the evening might bring, Ian couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into something far more precarious than a simple night at the village tavern. Between Rhona’s determination to prove her point, and whatever was happening with Olivia, the evening promised to be anything but the simple celebration Athol envisioned.
What on earth have I managed tae get meself dragged intae?
But even as the thought formed, he found himself looking forward to finding out. Whatever else was to happen tonight, one thing was certain – it would be anything but boring.
And perhaps that was exactly what he needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Tell me the truth, braither – did ye bring us all here just so ye could watch me drink meself intae a stupor?”
Athol’s voice carried over the lively din of the tavern, slightly slurred but still cheerful as he gestured toward his third empty tankard. TheRed Boarhummed with activity – merchants arguing over grain prices, local farmers celebrating a successful harvest, and what appeared to be an impromptu celebration of someone’s impending wedding.
“I brought ye out here because ye wouldnae stop pesterin’ me,” Ian replied, though his eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth as his brother signaled the barmaid for another round. “Though I’ll admit, it’s been educational watchin’ ye try tae drink the casks dry.”
“I amnaetryin’ tae drink it dry,” Athol protested with wounded dignity, swaying slightly. “I’m simply... conductin’ a thorough evaluation of their ale.”
Across their small wooden table, Olivia laughed – a musical sound that made several nearby patrons turn to look. “Och, Athol! Ye havenae changed a bit. Still convinced that drinkin’ the most ale makes ye the most manly.”
“It daesnae?” Athol blinked in mock confusion. “Well, that explains why the lasses never seem properly impressed.”
“Aye,” Ian said dryly, “I’m sure it has naethin’ tae dae with ye singin’ horribly off-key ballads about their ankles.”
Rhona noted how Olivia’s entire attention focused on Ian whenever he spoke, how her blue eyes tracked his slightest movement.
But Ian seemed irritatingly, completely oblivious to the adoration radiating from his childhood friend. His attention kept drifting back to Rhona herself, creating a strange tension that crackled between them like lightning before a summer storm.
“Ian,” Olivia’s voice carried a note of sweet nostalgia that made Rhona’s stomach clench. “Dae ye remember how we used tae dance at the harvest festivals?”
“Aye,” Ian’s smile was warm, but distant. “Ye were always the best dancer in the village.”
“Was I?” Olivia’s cheeks flushed pink with pleasure. “Would ye… would ye like tae dance now? Fer old time’s sake?”
Rhona felt her competitive instincts sharpen like a blade being whetted.
Here it comes. She’s practically throwin’ herself at him.
Ian hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking to Rhona with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Then he rose to his feet with fluid grace.
“Aye. Why not?”
Perfect.This should provide all the proof I need tae win our wager!
Rhona watched with grim satisfaction as Ian offered his arm to Olivia with courtly elegance
The small space that served as a dance floor was crowded with couples moving to the rhythm of a fiddle and drum. But as Ian and Olivia took their places, other dancers seemed to drift aside, giving them room to move. They made a striking pair – Ian tall and broad-shouldered in his dark wool tunic, Olivia graceful and lovely as can be in her pale blue dress.
They look like they belong together,like two pieces of the same puzzle.
Rhona observed, ignoring the sharp twist of something unpleasant in her chest.
She forced herself to catalog every excruciating detail, every shred of evidence of Olivia’s infatuation. The way her delicate hand lingered on Ian’s shoulder just a moment longer than necessary, how she leaned closer during the turns of their dance – as if drawn by some invisible force. And then, of course, there was the absurdly dreamy expression that settled upon her pretty face whenever Ian smiled down at her.
Surely he cannae be this bloody blind.‘Tis obvious as daylight!
