Indeed, these days Callum would make full use of her other virtues, abed, with shameful frequency. How well he looked today, all scrubbed and neat for the wedding. How tightly that grey jacket hugged the smooth curves of his muscular shoulders. Later, she would slowly peel it off him and slide her hands down his shirt, warmed by his skin. Then Callum would lay her back and let her fingers reach inside it to caress his smooth, pale skin and….’
‘Shame, I say. Lass, lass, what do you think? Shameless, is it not?’
Rufus Munro’s sharp bark snapped Tara out of her wicked thoughts.
‘What is shameless, Laird Munro?’ she offered, reddening.
‘Wedding, so soon after widowhood. It is not decent. In my day, it was all sackcloth and ashes for a year before you sought a new match. But you young people don’t care for the niceties.’
‘Her husband was terribly old,’ offered Orla.
‘Aye, he was a dreary, dribbling fool, halfway to heaven when they wed,’ said Callum
‘Or hell, depending on who you speak to,’ said Wolfric, with a smirk.
‘Well, I say she is a fickle filly,’ snapped Rufus. ‘The corpse is not yet fully stiffened, and off she gallops, down the kirk aisle to a new husband.’
Orla rolled her eyes. ‘Where is my cousin? Damn his eyes. The day is getting on. He’d better not be cavorting with some slattern when he is due at kirk.’
‘I still don’t know why you are going. A pack of craven fools the lot of you,’ barked Rufus.
‘Then it is just as well that you are not invited,’ said Orla.
‘And why should I be, when they are my worst enemies, and yours too, if you had any sense to see it?’
Callum placed a hand on Rufus’s shoulder. ‘But we do see it. That is the point. Is it not better to look your enemy in the eye and stare him out than cower and hide and hope he goes away?’
Rufus’ jaw worked. ‘I suppose so. And there’s little chance of you getting murdered at a wedding, so I will bid you good day.’
Just then, Bryce breezed in, looking heart-stoppingly handsome in a kilt of green and blue, his clan badge - of a lion rampant - catching the sunlight streaming in through Blackreach’s windows. His blonde hair was tamed and tied back, and he bore a broad, sunny smile.
‘I see we are all assembled. Excellent. Let’s be off to the kirk, then.’
***
Callum kept a protective arm about Tara’s shoulders as the great and the good of the county, friends and foes, stood together at Machrie Castle kirk -a somewhat overblown and ornate place. Callum sighed. The last time his wife had been here, she had been used as bait by her awful Uncle Ralph to ensnare that puffed-up rat, Hew Gordon. Now the tables were turned, and Hew was the prey, and he the hunter.
His lip curled to a sneer as he watched the two people at the altar join forever, or at least for as long as they could stand each other, for Hew Gordon and Fenella McNevin were a match made in hell. They both loved themselves so well that they had no affection left for anyone else. Tara had observed that they were remarkably well-suited, given that both were selfish, grasping kind of folk, propelled through life by arrogance and entitlement. She had decided that they would do very nicely together.
Callum had a much darker opinion on a union of Gordon and McNevin clans. Fenella’s late husband’s wealth was undoubtedly the reason for Hew’s sudden, undying love for her. It meant he could buy men and, more importantly, as much silence as he needed. With his coffers swollen, he could cover any trace of his association with villains.
Hew’s soft hands took hold of Fenella’s plump fingers, and he murmured his vows before the priest with barely-concealed indifference. Though he hated him, Callum could almost sympathise, for Fenella was as loathsome as her husband and was faintly ridiculous to boot. What was she wearing? A hideous confection of ruby silk the colour of ox blood inlaid with beading, flounces and lace billowing from the cuffs. Any beauty she might have laid claim to was drowned in swathes of fabric.
Callum stole a glance at Tara. Her simple, pure beauty was like a punch to his groin. She wore an amber dress that brought out the warmth of her brown eyes. It was his favourite. Had she done so today to please him and to assure him that she had never been, nor ever would be, tempted by Hew Gordon? It was possible, for she was forever attending to his wishes and needs these days and kept close at all times. Tara hardly let him out of her sight, nor did he want her to.
***
Dusk saw Tara back at Raigmoor, sitting atop a grassy hill, looking down on the castle as the sun set behind it. Summer in Scotland was an unexpected delight. There were wildflowers jewelling the long grass waving in the breeze. Bold white clouds scudded across the skies. The days were long, and Raigmoor’s bounty plentiful.
She turned to Callum, holding tightly to his hand. ‘Did you find out anything of use today?’
‘Aye. I discovered that we are not the only ones to suspect the Gordons of dirty dealings. The Erskines and McTaggarts have been making overtures to the magistrate to investigate Hew and his father. Though I am still not convinced Dunbar is behind it all. He is not so foolish as to entangle himself with the likes of the Baron. I suspect it is Hew, but if he was in league with the Baron, he is beholden to a very evil man he cannot manage.’
‘So you think he has sown the seeds of his own destruction?’
‘Aye, but if that is so, he is blindly ignorant of it. Hew looked far too pleased with himself for my liking.’
‘So he should, I suppose. It was his wedding day.’