Love Beyond Compare (Book 5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) (5 page)

Orick pointed behind them, and Adwen twisted his head to look. “Do ye no remember the tent we passed earlier? I doona know what lies there, but I’d wager that’s where ye will find most of the townspeople.”

Adwen paid vague attention to Orick’s words as he caught sight of the one building on the edge of the village still illuminated with candlelight. One large window to the right side of the inn’s entrance framed the lass that stood inside. Her brow covered in flour, her hands squeezed out a rag over a basin as she swayed her hips, dancing with only herself. Her lips moved and he could tell she sang to herself, believing no one was around to witness.
 

“Orick, we shall stay indoors tonight, but no at the castle. There,” he pointed in the direction of the candlelight, “at the inn.”

He pulled on his horse’s reins and waited for Orick to pull up beside him. He watched as Orick leaned forward to peer inside the window, waiting expectantly for his friend’s response.
 

“Ach, yer manhood is the only thing that directs ye in every decision. For once, why doona ye try to think with yer brain? If we are going to sleep inside, why no at the castle where ’tis free of charge and no doubt cleaner than an inn intended for weary travelers?”

Adwen smiled, thoroughly entertained and confused by the beautiful, strange blonde in the window. She’d released the rag held in her hands and now grabbed onto the end of a broom, holding the wooden end up to her mouth as her lip and hip movements grew more free and wild. He laughed as he jerked his head in her direction.
 

“Ye can see well enough why we will stay here rather than the castle. Do ye have any idea just what she might be doing?”

Orick shook his head, not sharing his smile. Instead, Orick’s brows pulled up high as his eyes widened in shock. “I havena any idea, but it doesna look verra decent at all.”

“Exactly, Orick. She will be the one I spend my last night of freedom with, and she will be the perfect lass to help me win the wager.”

 
“Ye disgust me, man. Truly, ye do. Just what do ye mean, ‘wager’?”

Orick grunted and kicked in his heels to spur on his horse, giving Adwen no choice but to do the same.

“Could ye no tell? Dinna ye notice that I chose a different lass in each territory to bed?”

“O’course, I dinna notice. Ye behave as if ’tis unusual for ye.”

Adwen laughed, realizing that without knowledge of the wager, it probably was hard to notice anything different about his behavior. But it was different—very different.
 

“’Twas Griffith’s idea. What a foolish lad he is, so young and ignorant to doubt for a moment that ’twould no be as simple as asking me to recite my own name. I almost expected him to arrange payment to a lass who would deny me, but he is no clever enough.”

Adwen patted his horse as they rode steadily toward the castle. After seeing what awaited him in the village, he found himself no longer anticipating dinner with old friends quite as much.
 

“So, he made ye a wager that ye couldna find a lass to bed ye at each of our stops? That hardly seems a wager worth anything. What are ye wagering?”

“Five years.” Five years would still be torturous, but just knowing that he need only bed one more lass before having his responsibilities of laird reduced by such a drastic measure made the prospect so much more bearable.
 

“Five years? I doona ken what ye mean, lad.”

Adwen loved the look of confusion on Orick’s face. “If I am able to bed a lass in each territory and return proof to Griffith that I did so, then he will return to the castle in five years to serve as laird in my stead so that I may begin my own travels once again.”

“Ye have spent yer whole life travelling throughout the world. Is no part of ye ready to settle in one place for awhile?”

The very thought made his chest heavy. “No at all.”

“And just how are ye supposed to prove such a thing to yer brother?”

Adwen reached behind him, grasping on to the leather bag carrying the precious trinkets that would buy him his eventual freedom, tossing it in Orick’s direction.
 

“Here. Look inside.”

Adwen watched as Orick took in the hair ribbons, the small pieces of dresses, the few handkerchiefs, even a lock of hair or two, each not only given but signed by their owner.
 

“Do ye mean to tell me that ye dinna steal these things from the lassies? That they each gave these, uh tokens, to ye willingly?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the twisted sense of pride that surged through him thinking back on his conquests. “Aye, every one. Told them I wished to have something to remember them by. They all seemed to believe it well enough.”

Orick chuckled in that same deep, baritone laugh that echoed through the chilly air. “I’ve finally made sense of it. ’Tis no that ye possess any great skill in wooing the lassies at all. ’Tis only that ye are verra skilled at picking out the lassies with the least amount of intelligence in a room.”

Adwen didn’t appreciate that idea whatsoever, although he couldn’t deny that he found most of the women he bedded to be dull and foolish, incapable of real conversation—not that he had any interest in conversing with those who joined him in bed. “Ye offend me, Orick. I’ll no accept any part of what ye just said.”

“I doona care if I offend ye. ’Tis true enough, I can see that now. No lassie with a mind smarter than that of a sheep would let ye into her bed and then cut off a piece of her hair to send it with ye for remembrance.”

The distance to the castle seemed to grow longer as Orick’s comments continued. His words filled him with self-doubt, an emotion he’d rarely experienced throughout his privileged life.
 

“Enough, Orick. I doona wish to hear another word from ye. At the evening’s end, we will travel to the inn. Ye can judge for yerself whether it be the lass’ stupidity or my charms that lure her into my bed.”

“Thank ye, but ’tis no something I wish to witness. Are ye sure ye wish to go to the inn, though? I believe ye might have better luck elsewhere.”

Orick’s jests angered him. He’d grown accustomed to his remarks over the years, their relationship one based more on friendship than service.
 

“Just what do ye mean, Orick? Ye are fair close to taking this too far, friend.”

“I only mean that while the lass looked crazy enough, with her dancing and the broomstick, she dinna look like the kind of lass to be taken advantage of.”
 

He could no longer feel the cold with the way his neck grew hot in response to Orick’s suggestion. “Advantage? I doona take advantage of anyone, Orick. They leave my side satisfied and happy with never a complaint to be had.”
 

“How would ye know? ’Tis no as if ye stay around long enough to hear them. The lass we saw through the window had a spark in her eye that I canna imagine most of them have possessed. If ye wish to win the wager, find yerself someone who appears a little less happy when she’s all alone, aye? Someone who appears in need of companionship.”

Adwen exhaled as they approached the pond leading to McMillan Castle. Finally, they were close enough that he could rid himself of Orick’s nagging presence for a while.
 

He pulled his horse to a stop, dismounting as he strode toward the entrance, leaving Orick to see to the horses as he spoke over his shoulder in order to get in the last word.
 

“If I wished to find a lass who needed companionship, I would surely ask ye to seek her out for me. Ye should know the look of one.”

His words were harsh. Guilt immediately stung at Adwen, but he placed it into the back of his mind. Orick had been brutally honest with him as well, as per usual, and they would find out which one of them was right soon enough.
 

CHAPTER 8

If not for the one dirty and exhausted traveler who stopped in for an early dinner before continuing on his way, there’d have been no real reason for me to stay and watch things while Gregor and Isobel were away. Still, I gave them my word, so I busied myself through the duration of the evening by trying, rather unsuccessfully, to improve my bread baking skills.
 

After stuffing myself with bread that was either too tough, or too salty, or too just plain gross, I gave up, surrendering to the fact that I was just not meant for bakerdom.
 

From the looks of the village outside the main window, it seemed that Gregor and Isobel weren’t the only folks interested in checking out the travelling healer. The village looked vacant, and the cold, windy air gave the evening a spooky feel, as if someone were watching me just past the edge of what I could see through the window. I did my best to busy myself so as not to think on it all too much.
 

It didn’t take long to wipe everything down—Gregor kept things very clean. Dust and dirt only seemed to aggravate Isobel’s cough.
 

After too much bread was baked and the tables were cleaned, I took to sweeping the floors while conducting a private stage show for all of the empty chairs. I chose to perform a one-woman stage version of Phantom of the Opera. Knowing every word by heart, I think it would be fair for me to speak for all of the invisible ghosts that took in my grand performance and say that I killed it.
 

Exhausted and happy, I collapsed into one of the many chairs, realizing that I’d not truly been this alone in a very long time. Something inside me reveled in it; enjoyed the freedom of being able to sing at the top of my lungs and prance around like a fool without being worried that a maid or other castle worker would come busting in through the doors. There was such a lack of privacy at the castle; never a moment presented itself where I could be the crazy goofball of a woman I was so accustomed to being in my life before.

I felt very little remorse at breaking Eoghanan’s trust to begin with since I was doing it to help Gregor and Isobel. I knew Eoghanan would understand once I explained it to him. But now that I’d so thoroughly enjoyed my evening alone, any repercussions that might occur if he wasn’t so understanding would be worth it.
 

Once I took a moment to catch my breath, I stood and went to lean my head out of the front door, to gauge the time of evening based on the moon’s position—it was somewhere between nine and eleven by my rudimentary guess, and I expected Gregor and Isobel to arrive back shortly. Assuming it safe to go ahead and close down for the evening, I stepped back inside and blew out all of the candles in the front, deciding to wait in Isobel’s private sitting room until their return.
 

With the rest of the inn now dark save the sitting room, which remained lit by a candle in each of the corners, I wrapped myself in a thick wool blanket and sank comfortably into a rocking chair. The flicker of the lights combined with my own rocking had me near the edge of sleep when the sound of wind whooshing through the front door as someone entered sent me soaring to my feet.

In my rush to find out who was there, I tripped on the edge of the blanket, falling headfirst into the edge of the doorway. I screamed and cursed as I stumbled into the dark hallway, feeling my forehead with one hand to make sure I wasn’t bleeding and guiding myself with the other.
 

Satisfied that my skull was still in one piece, I opened my eyes slowly to find the outlines of two humongous men standing in the dining room.
 

“Do you need a room?” I didn’t appreciate that the strangers saw fit to walk into a darkened building, but I knew that Gregor needed all the income he could get. I wasn’t about to turn away the first real guests of the night.
 

“Aye, lass. Apologies for our late arrival, we have been visiting friends.”

I knew enough of hospitality around here to find his statement odd and thought it best to illuminate the room as quickly as possible, in case they turned out to have less than honest intentions for entering. I didn’t have any real weapon, but there were a few kitchen utensils that weighed a good deal, and I was feistier than my size suggested.
 

“Visiting friends? And they didn’t offer you a bed for the night?” I backed into the sitting room so I could keep an eye on them, reaching just inside the doorway for the first candle I could get my hands on.
 

“Aye, o’course they did. ’Tis only I dinna wish to sleep in the castle. I doona much care for them.”

I stilled midway into the dining room, gripping the candle hard enough that wax dripped onto my hand. I had to grit my teeth to keep from dropping my only source of light as the hot wax blistered my skin.
 

Adwen MacChristy. It had to be. The very guest I was supposed to have been at the castle to meet this evening. Surely, he would’ve heard my name before; I was certain that my absence had been discussed at dinner. I couldn’t tell him who I was unless I wished for word to get back to Baodan. I enjoyed my work here. I wasn’t about to do anything to compromise it.
 

“Are ye all right, lass? Ye seem to be staying a good distance away. I can promise ye that we mean ye no harm.”