Page 63 of Seduced By the Reckless Highlanders
A second later, another arrow found its way onto the pile on the ground. The crowd groaned, and some walked away, joining the others who had not been able to bear the embarrassing spectacle any longer.
“Last arrow!” called the judge, looking relieved. He was an ex-military man to whom the whole affair was an absolute affront.
Andrew aimed his bow, sighting the arrow as he had been instructed to. There was a moment of tense, silent suspense, when a floating feather hitting the ground would have sounded like a cannon shot. Up until this point, their scores had been even at three each.
The arrow was loosed from the bow with a loudtwang!then flew through the air and hit the board with a resounding thud. Andrew stood looking at it in amazement and disbelief for a second before throwing his hands up in triumph. A storm of applause went up from what was left of the crowd, and there was much back-slapping and hugging before everyone dispersed to pour out wine and ale. Alasdair, the loser, was standing at the fringe of the crowd, looking very sorry for himself, until Andrew came up to commiserate with him.
Bernard watched the little scene, thinking that even though they were a complete pair of idiots with no sense and no social skills at all, they were still brothers who were devoted to each other. In fact, he had heard that twins were even closer than ordinary brothers and sisters, having shared a womb together.
He felt a stab of jealousy pierce him as he reflected that he had never known such a relationship. William was as close to a brother as he would ever know, but there had always been a social gulf between them because William’s father had not wanted to treat Bernard as a son. Nevertheless, he told himself to be satisfied with his lot in life. He was luckier than many others, he thought, but sometimes it was not enough.
Presently, he felt his shoulder being shaken, and he was jerked out of his reverie. William was standing beside him, looking exasperated.
“Are you listening to me?” he asked irritably.
“Sorry, Will, I was miles away,” Bernard confessed, laughing.
“I said, do you want to stay and watch any more of this?” he asked. “There are real archers to watch now. The laird has hired a few bowmen for a proper show of archery this afternoon.”
Bernard grinned. “I have really had enough, thank you.” He gave a grim laugh as they walked away from the contest.
They strolled along the edge of the mass of guests with no particular aim in mind but were held up for a moment by the attentions of a very large furry dog who walked in front of Bernard and put his paws on his shoulders. He then began to lick his face thoroughly so that no part of it remained unwashed.
Bernard endured the slobbery kisses for a few minutes while laughing at the big animal until he was pulled away by a man who was about the same age as William’s father, although much shorter.
“I beg your pardon,” the man apologized, looking down at the big, white, fluffy animal. “Bertie is very affectionate—too much, I think!”
Bernard, who loved dogs, smiled and shook his head. “I have never met a dog I did not like, sir,” he said, as the big animal sat at his feet and gazed up at him adoringly.
The owner of the dog laughed. “I have always found them to be wonderful judges of character,” he remarked. “So I take it you are a man of worth.”
Bernard blinked at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, sir,” he said, surprised as he bowed to the other man, whom he could see was a man of means by the expensive clothes he wore.
“Laird Callum Masterson,” the man told him. He was small and elderly, with grey eyes, a shock of thick, snow-white hair, and a friendly manner. “My dog growled at the twin Stewart brothers, so I know he does not like them. Having met them myself, I have to say I share his feelings. I suppose I should not be telling you these things, but I trust Bertie’s judgment.”
“I am Bernard Taggart, M’Laird,” Bernard announced. “And I have to say that I share your feelings. But don’t worry, our conversation will remain between us.”
He dropped his hand onto Bertie’s head again and was rewarded by having his hand bathed by the big dog’s wet tongue.
“Oh, don’t worry, my boy,” the laird said airily. “It is an open secret. Every laird here agrees with me, eh, John?” He turned to one of the other men, who was talking and laughing with a group of his friends.
The other man was much younger, but he was in perfect agreement with Laird Masterson. “Aye, a right couple of eejits,” he concurred, before turning back to the others.
Bernard bowed to Laird Masterton again, who smiled at him before looking him up and down. “You must be the lad my daughter was talking about,” he remarked, smiling again. “All the ladies are speaking about you in tones of great admiration.”
Bernard felt himself flushing with embarrassment. “Thank you, M’Laird,” he muttered, turning away to pat the dog again. He listened to what the gathering of men was saying while pretending to fuss over the animal, which welcomed all his attention eagerly.
“I don’t care which one of them wins.” Laird Cochrane’s deep voice could be heard clearly over the rest of the noise around them. “They are both as stupid as the day they were born. I would be ashamed to call them my sons.”
There was a chorus of agreement before Laird Colquhoun said thoughtfully: “They have one asset—their sister, Janice. What a pity she is a girl. She would make a fine laird.”
“Indeed she would,” Laird Watson concurred. “She already has the village on her side, and her servants all love her.”
“Aye,” Laird Donaldson echoed, his voice regretful. “Remember that terrible harvest we had two years ago? She had stored grain in the barns from the years before so that the peopledid not starve, just like Moses in the Bible.” He smiled and raised his glass in a toast to her, along with all the other men. “She was only eighteen then. Her father helped her, of course, but she is the power behind the throne, without a doubt, and he will not be around for much longer. The poor man is being eaten alive with consumption.”
“True. What a pity,” Laird Watson said sadly. “He is a very good man and will be missed, and I dread to think what a state this place will be in next year.” He took a sip of his whisky, shuddering. “It is not fair. She will likely be married off to a man who is not worthy of her and be expected to do nothing but breed for the clan, and that will be such a waste of a good mind.”
The men murmured in agreement, and then the conversation drifted onto other topics. Bernard slipped away and caught up with William, who had strolled over to a group of young ladies, to whom Bernard bowed politely.
