‘Not by choice. Why would she be interested in Wolfric?’

‘Well, he has a certain rough appeal, and she is not the only one who thinks so. It seems he is the object of much fascination amongst the females tonight, probably because he has been in exile for a few years and is so changed, now he is back. Your husband is fresh meat to those slavering bitches.’

Orla’s belly tightened with jealousy. She snatched the glass of brandy back from Bryce and downed its contents. ‘Bryce, tell me something. If you know a lady’s tricks and all their simpering, fluttering and flattery, why do you fall for them so readily?’

‘Because I am a man of five and twenty years,’ said Bryce.

Orla shrugged her shoulders. ‘And?’

‘And a man of five and twenty years wants to have his cock in a woman of five and twenty years, or one of any age, for that matter. Wolfric is no different, and so he will endure any amount of simpering to get that.’

Orla’s mouth fell open of its own accord and stayed there.

‘Oh, have I finally said something to shock you, dear cousin?’ said Bryce. ‘Good, for if you are to compete with those lasses, you must do so with a clear understanding of what a dog fight you are entering.’

‘I have no wish to fight Fenella for Wolfric as if we were a couple of bitches in heat.’

‘You insist you are content with your marriage, but if that were true, why are you not vexed at the thought of Wolfric pursuing other women?’

Orla frowned. ‘I suppose my pride would rather he didn’t stray.’

She cast a furtive glance at Wolfric. Damn him, he looked good, his jet hair shining from the firelight flickering over his devilish face as he smiled and bowed and scraped at that Jezebel, Fenella. Did he even like her? She certainly drew the eye, all soft prettiness and smiles, and she was no doubt hanging on his every word, flattering his male vanity.

Fenella could flirt for all she was worth. She would never really know Wolfric, not like she did - his darkness, ferocity and rugged beauty when he came to her bed and took his rights as her husband. Aye, she knew him in the way he stifled his cries of pleasure when he took her, sinking his head into her hair, not looking her in the eye. And she knew him in the way he would hold on to her, minutes after he had reached his release as if he was waiting for something more.

Bryce butted into her erotic thoughts. ‘Goodness, Orla. I thought it was just us men who were fools. Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with the wretch, for he is not worthy, cousin.’

‘Of course not. But I won’t be insulted by Wolfric dangling his paramours in front of me.’

‘If you say so, but there is something on your face when you look at him, plain as day.’ Bryce narrowed his eyes. ‘You are changed in all manner of ways, and there is a bloom to your cheeks that was not there before. I would venture to say you have blossomed somewhat, cousin.’

‘It is not love if that is what you are thinking.’

‘I don’t know what it is, but part of it is jealousy, plain as day. You are fascinated, Orla and your eyes are always on him. And love him or not, your territory is being invaded, so you had best enter the fray, dearest cousin or are you going to let Fenella humiliate you?’

‘No. I will not give her the satisfaction.’

‘Best of luck to you then,’ he said, moving off.

‘Bryce, surely you are not leaving me?’ she called after him.

‘I have guests to attend to. Now go. You have more pressing concerns,’ he said, giving her a firm push in Wolfric’s direction.

***

Wolfric was knee-deep in silken skirts, towering hair and twittering women when he noticed Orla winding her way through the throng of guests towards him. She pushed her way into his pack of beaming, fluttering admirers, who circled him like a hoard of over-eager butterflies and got a cold glare from Fenella for her trouble. Wolfric stared down into his whisky with a frown.

‘Oh, there you are, Orla,’ said the tiresome Fenella. ‘I did not see you, for you will insist on lurking in the shadows. How are you enjoying the festivities?’

‘Very much so,’ replied Orla with a sad glance at him, which he could not quite make out.

‘I was just telling Wolfric that we do not see enough of him in company and that he must venture out more,’ continued Fenella. ‘I do hope you haven’t been locking him up, Orla.’ The other ladies tittered at her boldness, and Fenella gave Wolfric her most seductive smile and held his gaze as she said, ‘It is not fair to keep him all to yourself.’

Orla’s face reddened. Wolfric recognised that expression - anger - so he got between them. ‘On the contrary, Fenella,’ he said. ‘It is I who locks Orla up as I force her to perform all sorts of onerous duties as my wife.’

He gave Orla a look that left no doubt about his meaning, and all the ladies sniggered and blushed, except for Fenella.

‘Did you come over here in search of something, Orla?’ she said.