Page 41 of Wicked Passions

“Allow me,” said Callum.

“My braiding is better,” said Alastair.

“I think not, old man.”

Isla stared at them, torn between laughter and surprise. “How? Who taught you?”

“My mother has very long hair,” said Callum. “She said everyone should know how to braid.”

Alastair sniffed. “Based on some of the bird’s nests we see in the Highlands, not nearly enough do. But I shall braid yours. Fetch the ribbon, Callum.”

The laird did so, muttering darkly the entire time, and continuing on as Alastair sectioned her hair into three parts.

“Isla needs it pulled tight, Alastair.”

“I am pulling it tight.”

“Tighter. Like a rope, not a drunken caterpillar climbing her head.”

“Any more advice,” growled Alastair, “and you’ll be taking a swim in the River Forth.”

“Even swimming I could braid better,” said Callum, rolling his eyes.

Her shoulders rocked with giggles. “You two.”

Alastair spanked her arse. “Stand still or it will be a lumpy braid…there we go. Done.”

Isla patted it with her fingers, then turned and beamed at the squire. “As good as Morag! I am most grateful to the Lady of Glennoe. And you.”

Once she’d covered her hair with Leith’s cap and pulled on her cloak, they lit two torches and set off for the castle. The night air was cool, and light rain dampened them all, but it wasn’t that making her shiver. Only a need to hurry back to her chamber before anyone discovered the rolled-up clothing and carefully arranged pillows in her bed were not a person.

“Don’t come any further,” she said, when the castle gate was about fifty feet away. “I don’t want anyone to recognize you. But I’ll see you at the revels...after that just two little swordfights, Callum, and we three can return home to Glennoe.”

The laird grinned wryly. “Yes. Two little swordfights. Good evening…laddie.”

Alastair clapped her on the shoulder as men often did to greet or farewell each other, then he and Callum walked back down the steep path toward Stirling.

Taking a deep breath, Isla sauntered toward the torch-lit gate, as though a lad without cares. Two men at arms watched her approach and stood to attention, blocking her way.

“State your business,” began one of the men, before pausing and peering at her in the low light. “Wait. I’ve seen you afore. Ain’t you Leith’s lad?”

“Aye, sir,” said Isla, deepening her voice as best she could.

“What are you doing out at this hour?” he continued with a suspicious glare. “No messages to run.”

She gulped. “A personal errand.”

The second guard tilted his head, his eyes cold. “In the dark of night?”

“T’was the only time the lassie could meet me,” Isla blurted.

The first guard snorted and shook his head. “Ye left the castle for a fuck? Daft wee lad. Plenty of willing women here. If a companion is needed, I’ll find ye one.”

“That is er…kind of you.”

“Nay. Leith has been generous. Now get your scrawny arse to bed. You’ll be working hard at the revels, that’s a fact.”

“Wait,” said the second guard.