Page 43 of Laird of Steel
In the spirit of his jesting now, Merraid murmured, “What about the one on the end, the wee one?”
“Lady Gormal?” He arched a black brow. “She may look scrawny. But I’ll wager she’ll knock at least two o’ the others flat on their arses.”
Merraid fought the mirth twitching at her lips. “Sir, ye should guard your tongue,” she warned, glancing around the table at the other ladies’ guards.
“Och, them?” He waved to the other men, who waved back. “We’re all wagerin’ on the outcome o’ the melee. Lads, what say ye? Shall we let the bonnie lass in on the wager?”
Merraid blinked.
Two of the guards said aye. Three nodded. One rubbed his hands together. “How much ye want in for, lass?”
When she hesitated, the merry-eyed man added, “A penny should suffice.”
Wagering on which prospective bride would win the day was the silliest thing she’d heard in a long while. Silly. And hilarious. And irresistible.
He wiggled his brows. “So are ye in?”
“Absolutely.”
Her wager was modest. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that the guards understood how ridiculous the competition was. They were having fun at their mistresses’ expense.
Of course, a battle never ensued. But by the end of dinner, surrounded by the merrymaking guards and the man who finally introduced himself as Henry, Merraid was sufficiently distracted to forget Gellir for a moment.
Chapter 7
Gellir woke up in a foul mood.
It wasn’t just that his cousin had tossed him into the ring of courtship. Like a Roman slave thrown to the lions.
It wasn’t from the excess of ale he’d drunk, trying to take the edge off the shrill din of twelve females simultaneously vying for his attention.
It wasn’t even from the disappointment of finding something mildly wrong about every one of them.
Nay. What chafed at him was the situation with Merraid. She’d left after dinner with a strange guardsman. One with hair as black as the devil. Eyes full of mischief. And a ready grin that said he enjoyed her company too well.
Gellir had had a strong drive to follow them. But he hadn’t. He knew Feiyan was right. It wasn’t his concern. Besides, he’d been just drunk enough to mistrust his judgment should his protection of Merraid come to serious blows.
But the sober light of morn hadn’t changed his mood one whit. And when he was feeling this way, the only cure for it was fierce battle.
So he donned his mail. Seized his sword and targe from the armory wall. And marched to the practice field with fire in his belly.
The last person he expected to see as he rounded the courtyard wall and headed toward the field was Merraid. He surprised her as well. They both gave a startled gasp.
She clapped a hand to her bosom and giggled. “Gellir. I didn’t expect to see ye for hours.” She winked. “Ye were right sotted last night.”
He tried to ignore the way her creamy skin glowed in the dawn’s light. How the sun burnished her hair to lush copper. How her eyes sparkled like blue sapphires. How her laughter washed over him like a gently bubbling stream.
He narrowed his eyes at her and ground out, “I didn’t expect to seeyoueither. Did he finally wear you out?”
Her smile faded. “What?”
Engaging her was unwise. It wouldn’t solve anything. And it would only give him more frustrations to work past on the field.
He tried to pass her.
She blocked his way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He snorted. “You seemed…busy…last night, fraternizing with that guard.”
