Page 19 of Won By The Highlander

Wolfric stared into his glass, conjuring an image of Orla Gordon. In truth, he had found it hard to banish her from his mind on the ride back to Blackreach. She lurked there, all green-eyed, curvaceous outrage, boiling his blood and heating his loins, damn her eyes. The thought that she might become his wife was a strange and confusing turn of events, as was the spurt of lust at the thought of sinking his cock between her lush, pale thighs up to the hilt.

‘Well, son. The prize? What of her?’

Wolfric gulped his whisky in one go, its burn heating his blood even more. ‘Bonnie and buxom, father, as you said. Not a head-turner, but there is a sturdy prettiness about her. You named her the least comely of the Gordon sisters, but I would argue with that, and I could certainly do worse. I suppose it is her character that has earned her a disagreeable reputation, and she does have a mouth on her. I must find a better use for it.’

Rufus chortled. ‘Aye, the Gordons are puffed up with pride, all airs and graces, yet they are but a few generations from muck-grubbing peasants. They dare to look down on us. They think they have risen while we have fallen, but this will teach them not to underestimate us. How did Dunbar take it?’

Wolfric laughed bitterly. ‘Not well. He had no choice but to give in. I had right on my side. I won fair and square.’

‘I heard that the lass won,’ said his father, pricking at his pride. ‘Whatever her faults, she has some mettle to do that. It must injure your pride to be outridden.’

Nothing was ever good enough for Rufus Munro, and he loved to prod a weakness once he found it, like a bairn poking at a dead rat with a stick.

‘Once we are wed, I will be in the saddle, and it will be Orla Gordon that is ridden,’ said Wolfric, indulging his father’s appetite for bawdy talk, though as he said the words, he found a scrap of pity for the lass in his heart. She deserved better than she was getting.

His father laughed heartily. ‘Well said, son. After the way they wounded this family, I finally have vengeance, and she will bear the brunt of it. Did you know that Dunbar Gordon, in his youth….’

‘Enough,’ said Wolfric, weary of the same old tale. ‘I won your damned land, and I will wed that shrewish Gordon lass, as we agreed, but I will not suffer you airing your grievances again. It bores me, father.’

‘Bores you, does it? Land and title and inheritance bore you. And no doubt your new wife will bore you.’

‘Aye, but I need not be here often enough for her to get too tiresome.’

‘You need to be here long enough to learn how to govern my lands and sire an heir. Consummate the marriage as soon as may be, for I’ll not have Dunbar connive his way out of this arrangement. Aye, fill her belly with a Munro, and then it is done and no going back.’

Wolfric shook his head, remembering Orla’s rage. ‘She will not have me. You should have seen the look on her face when she could not wriggle out of the affair. I got the evil eye well enough. The lass will never accept me.’

‘Nor do you want her, but alliances are made in this way. I am sure you can summon the spit to have the lass. It’s not as if you ever had shortcomings in that respect, is it? Rule her with an iron hand, and she’ll not give you any trouble. The bitch will become reconciled to her lot. Mark me, son. Never show softness around a woman, or she’ll walk all over you.’

‘I’ve no intention of showing softness, but Orla Gordon is a filly who will fight the bridle, is all I am saying.’

‘Then show no mercy, use the whip and break her. I must say, I am looking forward to grinding a Gordon under my boot.’

‘You will not hurt her, and you will not be cruel. ‘Tis no fault of the lass, this enmity between you and Dunbar. Am I heard?’

‘Aye, you are heard, but already you are too soft, son. Far too soft.’

‘No, I am not. But the lass has courage. She faced me down in front of all of Clan Gordon and defied her family by entering that race. She plotted her own course, and that, I wholeheartedly admire.’

‘Bah, it may be alright for a man to play the rebel with his father. ‘Tis the natural order of things, but not a female. When she comes to us, she will have to submit if she wants an easy life.’

‘Orla Gordon does not appear to be the submissive type, nor one in search of an easy life.’

‘Then you must tame her, son, either by charm or ferocity. I know you are up to the challenge. There’s not a lass hereabouts you aren’t able to coax onto her back. This lass is no different. Her resistance won’t endure, oh no, for they’ve weak blood, the Gordons, rich, but useless, the lot of them.’ Rufus Munro rubbed his hands together with glee. ‘Oh, this will be some fine sport, son, some fine sport indeed.’

‘I am glad you find it diverting, Father. Now I am for my bed to prepare for my nuptials tomorrow.’

‘Prepare what? I say you turn up looking like you do now, as if you have been in a tavern brawl or just dragged yourself out from between a whore’s thighs. Be as uncouth as you like. That will offend their delicate sensibilities no end.’

‘And are you coming to my wedding, or am I to enter the lion’s den alone?’

‘Alone, for I’ll not give Dunbar the courtesy of my company ever again.’

‘I bid you goodnight then, Father.’

Rufus waved a hand in dismissal and turned to his fireplace and his hounds. ‘This manor and all who depend on it will be yours soon enough,’ he shouted after Wolfric. ‘Tomorrow, you will earn it when you devour that fat little Gordon goose. She’s comely enough, so ‘tis no bad way to come into your inheritance.’

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