Page 97 of Honour Bound
I squeezed his arm. ‘You can tell me later.’
Taylor smiled. ‘It’s not all bad. I just won sixty-five thousand pounds.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Gambling’s not such a terrible thing after all.’
I gaped at him. ‘But I lost.’
His smile grew. ‘I didn’t bet on you.’
Lexie punched him. ‘You gambled away my money on Byron Moncrieffe instead of Tegs? You prick!’
‘I won though! Byron won! I was right to do it.’
‘So much for honour amongst thieves,’ she grumbled.
I tried not to laugh. It might have been overwrought hysteria or it might have been genuine amusement ? at this stage it was difficult to tell.
The lights in the auditorium dimmed and we took our seats. As befitted the runner-up, I was directed to the front. I could see Lexie and Taylor beaming as they were moved to the front of the audience with Speck and Brochan right behind. They weren’t skulking in the back row now and that was satisfying. We hadn’t achieved what we’d set out to but I’d reap the rewards from these Games for some time to come. I had sacrificed my chance of winning to save Byron from Debbie’s arachnid stomach. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be a sore loser. I was better than that.
I smoothed down the new improved Clan Adair tartan and reminded myself to maintain a proud posture. And Iwasproud. I might be a Clan of one – with some bloody decent friends behind me – but I’d beaten the others against all the odds. I was worthy. I had no idea how I would win back my father’s lands but there was always tomorrow. I would always be optimistic. What else was there?
The league board had been moved onto the stage for the prize giving. My name glittered near the top, with Byron’s right above it and a single point separating the pair of us. Byron strode up and took the winner’s seat next to me; it was several inches higher than mine. I couldn’t help noticing that he took considerable pains not to touch me but I tried not to let it bother me.
‘Congratulations,’ I said.
He didn’t look at me; I ignored the sharp stab in my chest and shifted away slightly. I’d respect his wishes, much as I wanted to grab him and yell that nothing that happened had been my fault. Looking at the faces in the watching crowd, many of whom were far friendlier towards me than they had been when these Games had started, it occurred to me that I’d gained many allies. But I’d lost some too. I sighed inwardly; I couldn’t blame Byron for how he felt but it didn’t stop the hurt from searing through me.
There was a dramatic drum roll, then the Carnegie MC marched out. He was wearing a bizarre cape that flowed out behind him, as if he were some kind of tartan-clad vampire. He took his spot at the front, nodded to the pixie who handed him a microphone, and started to speak.
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he boomed. ‘I am sure you will agree that the 2016 Games have been the best ever!’ There was a loud cheer from the stands. I noticed that the loudest cheers came from the Carnegie onlookers. ‘We have never had such a close-run race or such a nail-biting finish.’
‘Or so many clichés,’ I muttered. I felt Byron glance at me and fell silent again.
‘We would like to welcome our third runner-up to the dais to receive his medal. Clan MacQuarrie will be very proud of their son this evening. Never before have they placed so highly.’
There was a loud round of applause as Angus stood up and walked over. He was smiling broadly but when he walked it looked as if he was still hurting. He bowed his head as the small iron medal was placed round his neck. He made a show of kissing it and held it up to the crowd. Then he looked in my direction and winked.
‘Our second runner up is Tipsania Scrymgeour!’ Carnegie declared.
Tipsania got to her feet far more stiffly than Angus and walked up to Carnegie. She’d gone all out with her outfit: it was a glittering dress which I could swear was made out of diamonds. There was nothing like flaunting your wealth in front of the great and the good. Now the Games were over, I wondered if she’d notice if I helped myself to a few of those sparkly jewels. It would be minor compensation for what I’d gone through, if nothing else.
Tipsania’s medal was bronze. Although she held it up in a similar manner to Angus, her lip curled slightly as she touched it and I grinned. I guessed she wasn’t used to such ordinary metals.
‘Our first runner up is…’ the MC paused, not for dramatic effect but because he felt disgusted by my name on his lips. My smile grew. He still had to say it. ‘Integrity Adair.’
The noise from the crowd was remarkably pleasing. Not everyone clapped and many had glowering expressions and folded arms. But I’d won over enough people that there weren’t tumbleweeds blowing across the stage. That was enough for me.
I strolled to the front and made a sweeping bow. I wouldn’t let anyone see that I was disappointed at not winning. I turned round and Carnegie gazed sourly at me as I bowed my head. He managed to drop the medal round my neck without brushing my skin. I wondered if he’d practised that move beforehand.
The drum roll started up once more and lights danced across the stage, finally stopping in a circle round Byron. Rather than looking happy, he looked uncomfortable.
‘And the winner of the 2016 Sidhe Highland Games is Byron Moncrieffe!’
Naturally the applause for Byron was the loudest and it seemed as if the very walls of the auditorium rocked. There was a large group of girls – and older women – who screamed his name and flashed considerable cleavage. I shot a sidelong look at Tipsania but she was staring ahead, not looking at the supposed love of her life. I couldn’t work out why she wasn’t happier. She hadn’t won, and she’d still have to navigate the minefield of dealing with her relationship with a Wild Man, but Byron was about to release both of them from their awkward charade. That could only be a good thing, right?
Byron strode forward, his discomfort unable to disguise his confident, sexy, swagger. There were more girlish screams but he didn’t pause to acknowledge the crowd. He simply walked up to the Carnegie MC and shook his hand. He wasn’t even smiling.
‘Byron Moncrieffe,’ Carnegie purred, thrusting the microphone in his direction. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Fabulous.’
