Page 39 of The Wrong Bride
But it was all an excuse to watch Hugh with his men. Sometimes he seemed like different people to her—the merciless kidnapper, the clan chief wanting respect and authority, the potential bridegroom who kissed her with barely restrained passion. But he wasn’t her betrothed, and he was never going to be her husband.
But one thing she’d never expected was how taken he was by a shaggy little terrier hanging around the yard, mud caked on the lower half of his tan body as if he’d been running through a bog. On top of his head was a burst of fur like a hat. Histongue hung out with doggy happiness as if he’d found his perfect master, his gaze never leaving Hugh. Riona leaned against the wall and watched the entertainment until the training session broke up. The terrier followed Hugh as he headed toward the upper courtyard. Hugh stopped to talk to the smithy, gesturing back toward the dog, but only got a shrug out of the man.
Then Hugh headed back across the yard and the dog followed obediently, little legs trotting to keep up. Riona stepped into the shadow of the wall near the smithy, glad for the cloak that hid her. She wasn’t ready for Hugh’s gray eyes to focus on her, to roam her body, to make her feel . . . wicked.
A young groom, who couldn’t be more than ten years old, was leading a horse from the smithy to the stables, but came to a stop when he saw Hugh, as if the McCallum awed him.
Hugh pointed to the dog and spoke in Gaelic. The boy led the horse into the stables and came back with a length of rope, which he slipped around the dog’s neck. Dog and boy watched Hugh walk away, the dog full of yearning, the boy much more wary.
And then she really looked at the boy, and something strange moved through her. He had dark shaggy hair and a prominent forehead. His body looked healthy, even big next to some of the boys she’d seen, as if he’d be a tall man someday. She shivered. What color were his eyes?
With a glance to check that Hugh had reached the upper courtyard, she strode toward the stables, where the boy was talking to the dog in Gaelic. The terrier just continued to look at him with expectation.
“Hello,” Riona said.
The boy glanced at her, and his gray eyes shocked her. He resembled Hugh.
She was speechless for a moment at the implication, and then told herself that the McCallums were mostly related, where similarity in looks would be common. Hugh wasn’t going to be her husband, so this wasn’t her problem.
The boy bowed his head. “Mistress.”
To her relief, he spoke English. “What is your name, young man?” she asked.
“Brendan. What’s yours?” he asked boldly.
She briefly pressed her lips together to hide a smile at her own assumption thateveryonewould know who she was. “My name is Catriona.”
Those gray eyes went wide. “LadyCatriona? The McCallum’s wife?”
“I’m not his wife yet,” she said with a smile. “That’s a nice dog.”
“Himself asked me to take care of it.” There was both pride and wariness in his tone.
The wariness could have been about her, of course. She couldn’t help wondering about him or his family. Did he notice the resemblance to his chief?
She looked around. “I see other dogs roaming the courtyard. Is this one special?”
He shrugged thin shoulders beneath his shirt. For a boy who worked in the stables, he seemed remarkably clean.
“The McCallum said this one was young and wouldn’t leave him alone. Might make a good stable dog. Terriers hunt badgers, Himself said. Maybe I can train it to hunt rats.”
“Do you live here in the castle?”
He gave her a look like she was crazy. “Nay, I live in the village with my granny. My mum’s passed on.”
He didn’t mention his father, and she decided not to ask. Instead, she bent and rubbed the furry head of the dog.
“Do you have a name for him yet?”
“I’ll be thinking about it. Unless ye’d like to do it,” he said hastily.
“No, of course not. You’re in charge of him.”
He relaxed, then looked over his shoulder. “Got work to do. Begging yer pardon, my lady.” And he led the dog into the stables.
Riona watched him go, trying to tamp down her curiosity.
ATdinner that afternoon, Hugh strolled between the tables, talking to his gentlemen and meeting the occasional wife. Training that morning had been a little more difficult than yesterday, as the awe ofhis arrival was wearing off, and the distance of ten years’ absence was settling in. They’d all been afraid of his father and his drink-filled rages, but they didn’t know what to expect of him.
