Page 60 of Won By The Highlander

Wolfric took Orla’s arm and steered her inside the kitchen door. ‘Come quickly. This way is quieter, and we won’t be seen.’

Inside, it was warm and cosy with the delicious smell of pigeon pie coming from the oven. The kitchen was empty, and its usual bustling noise softened to just the roar of the huge fire. Orla rushed to the flames and held her hands out to warm them, as she had taken to violent shivering on the way home, despite Wolfric’s belly warming her back as they had shared the horse.

She was not sickening, for she was as strong as an ox. No, it was a different ailment that lay upon her. She could feel Wolfric standing behind her, his eyes boring into her back, and suddenly she dearly wanted to be back in her chamber, alone, to work through her confusion at Wolfric’s confession of his feelings. He wanted something from her, some expression of affection or need. She dare not admit either, for then she would be his slave and his fool.

Wolfric came close, wrapped his arms around Orla’s waist, and put his head to the nape of her neck. Her chest ached at him doing it, and her breath quickened. She wanted to lie down with him again, naked and snug as two baby birds in a nest, but it seemed fate had other plans.

‘What is this?’ said a resentful voice. ‘If you’ve an urge, take the lass to your chamber later. We have more pressing concerns than your lust.’

They both turned to see Rufus glowering at them. His eyes roamed over Orla, no doubt taking in her dirty whore’s clothes and judging her ill, as usual.

‘What concerns?’ snarled Wolfric, leaping away from her like a scalded cat.

‘Redcoats, above, in the hall, seeking you, son. Something about deserters who have gone missing. Do I have a reason to worry, lad?’

Wolfric’s hands fisted at his sides. ‘Of course not. They are here to discomfort us, as usual. I will get rid of them.’

‘No, it is more than that. The redcoats are after something, sniffing about here.’ Rufus turned to go and then stopped and shouted back. ‘It might help to play the respectable Laird to the hilt. That one can come and act the obedient wife. It will divert them,’ he added, stabbing a finger at Orla.

‘I don’t think I need to be there. And I will not smile and simper at some English fools just because you say so,’ said Orla.

Wolfric sighed. ‘No, Orla, he’s right. Go and get cleaned up, lass, fetch some servants to bring refreshments, and then come into the hall.’

‘But Wolfric I….’

‘Do this for me. Just do it. Please, Orla.’

Orla hurried upstairs to her chamber, and Sykes bustled in to help. They quickly washed the dirt off her face and hands and tore off the whore’s dress. Orla blushed furiously, for she could still feel Wolfric’s hands all over her, his mouth on her skin, the grind of the tree against her back as he….

‘Why, there’s leaves, mud and all sorts in your hair. What am I to do with this?’ wailed Sykes.

‘Do the best you can. Just put it up in a bun, will you,’ said Orla.

In a monstrous pout, Sykes scraped and tugged at Orla’s hair until it had been tamed into a hasty bun. Orla wriggled into a modest green dress and smoothed it with nervous hands, then rushed down to the hall, pinching her cheeks. She paused at the door and pasted a vacuous smile on her face, ready to entertain some pompous English soldiers.

She swept in and was greeted by a scrape of chairs as Rufus and Wolfric stood up, along with two English officers. Orla’s legs almost went from under her as one of them introduced himself as a Major Sutherland.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Munro,’ he murmured as he bowed extravagantly, pressing wet lips to the back of her hand. ‘May I introduce my fellow officer, Captain Giles Nash.’

Nash came forward and took her hand. His bow was stiff, and his mouth cold as it pressed lingeringly to her knuckle. When he rose, Nash’s eyes widened in a warning.

Orla swallowed hard and took a seat at the table, clutching her skirts to hide her shaking hands.

***

Major Sutherland droned on for some time after the introductions. He seemed to delight in small talk, yet a keen intelligence was hidden in the folds of his flabby countenance. His eyes darted between Rufus and Wolfric, assessing them, though they did little to encourage conversation, their responses curt and hostile. The Major paid little attention to her, for as a female, she was of no significance, barely worth his notice.

Sykes bustled in and banged down a tray with glasses and whisky, and while the Major imbibed, Nash did not. Once Sykes had gone, there followed talk about the weather turning, the autumn harvest, food shortages in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Inverness, and even the parlous state of the sewers in Fort George.

‘I hear you ride into Inverness frequently, Munro,’ said the Major to Wolfric.

‘You hear? How?’ he replied, holding the man’s gaze.

‘Well, my men are to be found there, from time to time, and a man such as yourself does tend to garner attention. Several times over the last few weeks, you have been spotted going in and out of taverns and such.’ His eyes darted with malice towards Orla, and she stiffened.

‘Do I now?’ said Wolfric, with a warning in his tone.

‘What business takes you there?’ continued the Major.

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