other topic of conversation.”
She wanted him to be the topic of conversation. “Very well, then. I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to identify yourself with the costume of your heritage.”
“Costume of my—? Ye mean the kilt?”
“Of course. And the—” She pointed to the black cloth pinned to his shirt.
“The fly plaid?” He chuckled. “This is no’ a costume of heritage. It’s a very practical garment.”
“In what way?”
“It kept the rain off yer backside, didn’t it?”
Zoe giggled. Serena flicked her a withering glance.
“Nevertheless, it is a costume, just as my dress is a costume. Does one wear anything under that?”
A twinkle in his eye signaled his amusement. “May-hap ye’d like a wee keek?”
Serena felt a blush zooming up her neck. The answer to that question was embarrassingly yes. “Hmm. Thanks all the same, but I fear that, in the words of William Shakespeare, it may be ‘much ado about nothing.’”
There it was again. That smile. It transformed his dangerous face into something quite delectable, dripping with sexual charm.
“Please yerself.”
She’d love to, but he was making it very hard. She would have to find a way to make him very hard. Who knew … perhaps her next column would be all about his column.
SEVENTEEN
As they left Fort Augustus, a band of silver edged the dark thundercloud, until finally the storm cleared altogether. The carriage rumbled past the shore of Loch Uanagan, beside the rough hinterland of Newtown, and along the green pastures at Aberchalder. It was a rich tapestry of landscapes, and despite Serena’s initial dislike of the stark country, she had to admire its wonders.
Invergarry was a little more than a scattering of homesteads at the foot of thick forest. But in one large pasture, hundreds of people gathered. Colorful flags flapped in the high breeze, and tents and tables skirted a huge playing field. The music of flutes and drums added a decided twinkle to the chill air. Even from her carriage, Serena could smell meats roasting on spits.
Zoe was fairly bouncing in the carriage, and for once Serena shared her enthusiasm. It was a festive scene, full of unusual scents and sights, and Serena could hardly wait to explore them. Unmindful of ladylike decorum, she opened her own door.
A gloved hand pulled her in again.
“Remember what I said,” Malcolm remarked. “Never leave my sight. Understood?”
Irritated, she jerked her arm away. She was unaccustomed to being around brusque men—at least, men who didn’t worship her beauty and charm. “Very well.
Just make sure to keep your distance, or people will think we’re friends.”
Arm in arm, Serena and Zoe hurried along the edge of the playing field. Everywhere she turned, there was something fascinating to look at. To one side, vendors were noisily selling fabrics, bread, ale, and livestock. To the other, people crowded around the competitions. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena saw something fly into the air. Grabbing Zoe’s hand, she yanked her in that direction.
They joined the gathering that circled a group of men who took turns pitchforking a heavy jute sack and tossing it backward over their heads in an attempt to make it fly high over a horizontal bar between two standards. Judging by the strain of the effort, it was not an easy task.
Adjacent to this game was another in which a man clutched a heavy rock to his neck, then spun around and around before he released it, tossing it as far as he could. Serena watched in amazement at the distance these thick, burly men could make the unwieldy rock fly.
A cheer erupted behind her, and Serena pulled Zoe toward it. By this time, Serena’s beautiful yellow slippers were smeared with wet mud, but she didn’t really care. On this playing field, a beefy man hoisted up a slender, twenty-foot-long tree trunk by its end between his clasped hands and cradled it against his shoulder. The man pulled all sorts of grimaces as
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