Page 85 of Won By The Highlander

‘Oh, my sister Greer was so bonnie and sweet-natured. Everyone she met doted on her, for she loved to laugh and flirt, foolish little lass. And your father was around the place a good deal, so they fell for each other. ‘Twas in some way inevitable. Greer was silly, and he was vain. But I knew Dunbar too well. We were lads together, carousing and drinking and whoring our way through the Highlands.’ Rufus smiled at the memory, but then his face fell. ‘They kept it from me, of course, until it was too late.’

‘Too late?’

‘For her innocence, lass. Aye, your father seduced poor Greer, and when she had given away her heart, love and virginity, Dunbar upped and married your mother. Out of the blue, he did it, with no warning. Ada Cullan was too good a chance to pass up, rich, you see, so the bastard abandoned poor Greer, and she declared she was prostrate with grief for him. She confessed everything to me in a fit of sobbing, the poor thing, and urged me to drive a blade through his heart.’

Rufus’ face sagged into a scowl, his jaw working, and he became lost in his memories.

Orla hardly dare ask. ‘Laird, you seem distressed. Did something terrible happen to Greer?’

‘Terrible? Beyond being polluted by a Gordon? No, lass. The silly goose had no more constancy than a sheep. Within weeks all was forgotten. The damn fool set her cap at the next handsome buck who crossed her path. She was wed within a month of Dunbar’s desertion and was happy enough from then on, being spoiled and indulged as she had always been. Aye, Greer had a knack for using what little attributes she had to good effect. Did very well for herself in the end.’ Rufus leant in and winked. ‘Convinced her husband that she was as pure as that fresh fall of snow outside. The lass always was a good liar - a family trait of ours.’

‘I don’t understand. If she was not heartbroken by my father’s betrayal, why is there such enmity between you two?’

‘Because Dunbar betrayed me far more than he betrayed her. I was his best friend and confidante since boyhood. I didn’t give a fig for my empty-headed sister throwing her virginity at him. I just hated the fact that he took it without asking me first.’

‘But it was hers to give, surely?’ squeaked Orla.

‘If you like. But Dunbar was my friend and spat on me when he seduced my sister and wed another. See, men have a kind of loyalty you women can never understand, a line that should not be crossed.’

‘You are mistaken. I understand loyalty as well as you, and I am loyal to your son.’

Rufus tore the crust off a pie and chewed noisily. ‘Aye, he tells me he has forgiven your many sins.’ He wagged a bony finger at her. ‘But I see you, and I still think you are guilty of something, Orla Gordon.’

‘I am Orla Munro now, or have you forgotten?’

‘How could I, when you are so often the talk of Inverness, and our name dragged through the mud with you?’

‘I had not realised that the Munro name was so unblemished, Laird.’

Rufus smiled, quaffed his ale, adam’s apple bobbing, and slammed down his cup. ‘Me, I’ve never paid much heed to gossip nor cared much for the opinions of the high and mighty folk hereabouts. I live as I please and answer to God alone and no one else. So what care I if they think you a whore, and my son a cuckold? ‘Tis your business.’

‘Then nurse your grudge against me as you will, Laird. I will not give a fig for it either.’

‘I bear no grudge. If my son did not see fit to punish you, that is a matter for him. And as to the wretched hypocrite Dunbar Gordon, if he does not want you, then you belong here with us, where you have a place now.’

Orla could think of nothing to say as Rufus leant across and grabbed her hand in his.

‘Wolfric tells me you make him happy. He does not need to say it aloud, for I can see it. My son wears his joy like a new coat. He takes pride in you, and he loves you. More fool him, I say. But if you swear to be good to him, to truly love him, then I will be good to you, lass. You will be a Munro and have my protection.’

‘I do swear it, Laird. And I do love Wolfric, more than anything.’

‘Good, because I want a hall full of grandchildren, you hear. You see that you work on this matter as soon as may be.’

Orla smirked at the old man. ‘It will be my pleasure, Laird.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Aye, I am sure it will. And since I am growing soft as a rabbit’s belly in my old age, you may call me father if you like.’

Orla beamed at him, though she was not sure she could ever use that term where Rufus was concerned. But as he was in such a forgiving mood, she took a chance to be insolent. ‘And Sykes, Laird?’

‘What of her?’ he snapped. ‘That brazen baggage took herself off back to Machrief. She left while you were visiting with your parents. I am surprised you did not cross her on the road.’

‘Why did she leave? What did you do?’

‘Do? Absolutely nothing. I refused to wed her, that’s all.’

‘Oh, but you seemed…erm….so close.’

‘Close is a good word for it, I suppose. But, no, I may be old and have appetites that need slaking, but I am no fool. She wanted to wed me and drive me into an early grave. Oh aye, that low-born hussy was sniffing after my coin, and she’ll not get it, oh no. So she has returned to your father’s employ if he’ll take her.’ He chuckled. ‘In high dudgeon, she was, too. Hah, you should have seen her face as I waved her off. If looks could kill, I would be mouldering in my coffin.’

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