Orla was as good as her word, and she arrived at Raigmoor with no warning and barged in as Tara was petting Monk before the fireplace in the great hall. The dog went running to Orla, tail thrashing, bottom wiggling.
‘Where is your husband?’ Orla demanded, rubbing Monk’s ears while he shoved his snout into her other hand.
‘He left at dawn,’ said Tara.
‘Excellent. So we can enjoy ourselves, just the two of us.’
‘But I cannot receive visitors for I am worried about Callum. There was a report of cattle being taken on Ross land, and he has gone to pursue the thieves.’
‘Oh them,’ said Orla waving a hand casually. ‘They are the bane of the county and well beyond. Vicious thugs, the lot of them. Our cattle have been stolen too, and Wolfric swears he will hang them like fruit from the trees when he catches them.’
‘Surely not? Can the magistrates not deal with them,’ said Tara.
‘Those soft ninnies. No, my dear. You are not in the south now. The fools will get Scots justice. These men are real villains, and they don’t just steal cattle. They burn farms, molest and carry off women, and kill anyone who gets in their way.’
‘Oh, God. And Callum has gone after them.’
‘I can see that you are frightened for him. But do not be. I have yet to meet the man who can beat Callum in a fight. He does not fight like a gentleman, if you get my meaning, and comes away without a scratch most times.’
Tara turned away to stare into the fire. She seemed to be the only person who could hurt Callum Ross. Her stomach churned with worry, and now she must spend time with Orla Gordon, who was incredibly blunt and talked of matters well beyond Tara’s comprehension. Again, the wildness of her new life shocked her.
‘Aye, Callum can handle himself, and there is not a finer man, a truer friend or a better rider in the Highlands,’ continued Orla. ‘You are a fortunate woman to have caught him, for several lasses had their beady eyes on him over the years. Though none moved him to make an offer.’ Orla Munro came over and looked Tara up and down. ‘Goodness, I did not think it possible,’ she declared, hands on hips.
‘What?’
‘You look even bonnier than the other day in Inverness. Callum has outdone himself. Who would have thought it? No wonder my hog of a brother was chasing after you.’
An awful thought occurred to Tara. What had Hew Gordon said to his sister?
‘Don’t look so shocked, Tara,’ said Orla. ‘Just because he is family doesn’t mean I am blind to how slimy Hew is. And don’t worry, I am not as bad as that viper Fenella made me out to be,’ she continued with utter frankness. ‘I saw you all whispering and staring at the gathering.’
‘Oh, I am sure she did not mean to malign you in any way, and I….’
‘Of course, she did, spiteful sow that she is. I do declare, Fenella’s marriage to that scraggly old McNevin fellow has soured her temper even more than usual, if that is at all possible.’ Orla favoured Tara with a beaming smile of pure mischief.
‘I…I did wonder how she can bear him,’ said Tara. ‘He is so very old and unattractive.’
‘I wonder how he can bear her!’ replied Orla, and suddenly, having found common ground, they both burst out laughing.
‘Oh, but the very thought of having that man’s leathery old hands all over my flesh…ugh. I could not bear it,’ said Tara.
‘He is reputed to be impotent, so perhaps Fenella is spared the worst of it. Thank God my husband has a hard, vigorous body, so manly. Yours, too.’ Orla winked most wickedly. ‘So, are you ready for an outing?’
‘Where?’ said Tara with dread. She was reluctant to spend a lot of time in this woman’s company, for she was impossible to keep up with, wholly intimidating and far too frank.
‘Why, Inverness, of course, to spend your husband’s money. Let us organise a mount for you.’
‘But I must warn you, I am a terrible rider, Orla.’
‘Well, I am a good enough rider for both of us, so come along. Where is that Greaves fellow to ready you a horse?’
***
In Inverness, Tara gazed about a shop filled with gauzy petticoats and bolts of silk. She was frozen with indecision. Orla was urging her to buy as much as she liked and had been holding up ribbons, stockings and various fripperies for quite some time to no avail. What was the point of trying to dress herself up when Callum just avoided her of late?
‘This would look very well with those brown eyes,’ said Orla, holding up a bolt of ivory silk. She put it down when Tara shook her head and said, ‘It is too fine and ruinously expensive.’
Orla tutted and held up a froth of frilly petticoats, lacy and lavishly embroidered at the hem. ‘What about these then?’