Chapter 15

A nna allowed herself to be swept along with the rest of the crowd streaming towards a makeshift platform that had been set up at the edge of the field.

She kept her eyes on Emeric as he walked ahead with the castellan. Actually, she glared daggers at him, furious with the way he'd spoken to her. Her anger was only worsened by the fact she knew Emeric was right. It had been stupid of her to enter that contest. Now everyone in the vicinity would be gossiping about the strange outlander up at Dun Achmore who spoke weirdly and did things no self-respecting Highland woman would.

Oh, yes, she knew he was right, but that didn't mean he could get away with giving her a dressing down! Aargh. Damn the man.

He made her angry and unbalanced and excited and giddy all at the same time. Anna hated it. She should be the one in control here. When it came to relationships, she flirted, she teased, but never got more involved than that, perhaps having the odd dalliance and moving on before she could risk getting too closely entangled.

That strategy was most definitely not working with Emeric. Oh, she flirted and teased him whenever she got the opportunity, but far from keeping him wrongfooted, it seemed to do that to her instead, and the more time she spent with him the more entangled she became..

As they'd stared at each other a moment ago, she'd thought he might kiss her. And God, how she'd wanted him to! She'd found herself leaning forward in anticipation until that bloody castellan had come along and interrupted them!

She glared daggers at him too. Dratted man.

She reached the platform and spotted the three clan lairds already up on the stage. Weaving her way through the crowd, she went to join Aislinn, Maria and Hildie standing to one side.

"What's going on?" she whispered to Aislinn.

"The award ceremony," Aislinn whispered back. "The lairds will present each of the champions with a gift to mark their prowess."

A hush fell over the crowd as Laird MacDonald strode forward, his tall frame silhouetted against the bright afternoon sunlight. He held aloft a huge two-handed sword—a claymore Anna had learned they were called—its blade catching the light.

"Yer champion of the sword, Aillig Murray!"

An appreciative cheer erupted from the spectators as Brodie's older brother strode onto the platform. He was tall and broad-shouldered, like Emeric, his red hair still damp with sweat from his bouts with the sword.

He approached Laird MacDonald, who presented him with the claymore. Anna didn't know much about swords—well she knew exactly nothing truth be told—but even to her untrained eye, it looked like a magnificent weapon, with an ornate silver grip and finely tooled scabbard.

Aillig took the weapon with a bow then turned to the crowd and held it up, to much cheering.

Laird Murray stepped up next. His gnarled hands held a fine war ax of glittering steel and polished wood which he raised high, reflecting the sun's rays across the crowd.

"Yer champion of the ax, Duncan MacDonald!" His voice carried like a rumbling thunderstorm.

The crowd exploded into roars of applause as Duncan stepped onto the platform. He took the ax and gave a flourishing bow, flashing a dimpled smile that no doubt had the women in the crowd sighing in appreciation.

Then it was Laird Mackintosh's turn. He was the broadest of the lairds, with a commanding presence and a gaze that could cut through steel. As he stepped forward, the crowd fell silent. He carried nothing in his hands, but rather wore a sly grin that promised something extraordinary.

"Yer champion of the bow," he began, his voice carrying far and wide. "My nephew, Emeric Mackintosh!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. Anna's heart pounded in her chest as Emeric paced onto the stage. Laird Mackintosh reached for something behind him, wrapped in cloth. He unfurled the cloth, revealing an exquisitely carved longbow. The wood was polished to a shine, displaying the intricate spirals which adorned its length. The center of the bow boasted an ornate grip wrapped in silver thread, the ends tipped with the heads of two coiling dragons made from some dark metal .

"This belonged to yer father," Laird Mackintosh said to Emeric. "And he would be proud for ye to have it."

At the words, Emeric's expression changed. The skin around his eyes tightened and his temple twitched. He paled a little and Anna could have sworn he looked like he was gritting his teeth. He reached out tentatively to accept the bow but then paused, fingers a hair's breadth from the silver-wrapped grip. His uncle pressed the bow into his hand with a hearty laugh.

Emeric's fingers curled around the bow. "Thank ye, Laird," he said, his voice tight and hoarse. He turned, holding up the bow for all to see and cheers echoed through the field once again, obliterating the moment of tension.

Anna longed to speak to him. Despite the angry words they'd exchanged, she didn't like it when they were at odds. She made to move off, but before she could take a step, a slender hand clasped her wrist. Aislinn was grinning at her, her ever mischievous eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I canna believe I missed the ax throwing, Anna!" she said, her voice bright and lively. "Tell me everything!"

Anna sighed and glanced at Emeric, who was now surrounded by the cheering crowd. She gave Aislinn a half-hearted smile, all the while feeling a tug in her chest that yearned to be somewhere else.

"It wasn't much," she began dismissively. "Just a bit of fun."

Aislinn's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, dinna pretend ye weren't brilliant! I've never heard of anything like it!"

Anna shifted uncomfortably, sheepishly brushing a stray strand from her forehead. This was exactly what Emeric had meant. She was pretty sure Aislinn wouldn't be the only one who wanted to know more about her antics.

Unbidden, her gaze moved over to where Hildie and Lady Maria were engaged in conversation. As if sensing her regard, Maria looked over suddenly, her gaze sharp and shrewd. Anna quickly looked away.

"Tell me more over a drink?" Aislinn asked, pointing towards the long tables laden with jugs of wine and mugs of ale.

"You know what?" Anna said, linking arms with Aislinn. "That sounds perfect." Oh yes, she most definitely needed a drink right now.

They joined the crowd that was now moving in the same direction, led by their noses and the promise of strong spirits. The festival atmosphere was contagious, the music and laughter on the air mingling with the scent of roasting meats that floated from the open-air kitchens.

They reached the tables and Aislinn managed to snag two goblets of wine for them, holding them high triumphantly before handing one over to Anna.

"Cheers to the mighty ax thrower!" Aislinn declared before tipping back her goblet.

Anna smiled at her friend's cheerfulness and raised her own drink. "Cheers!" she echoed, taking a gulp of the strong, fruity wine. It was surprisingly good and warmed her from the inside out as it slid down her throat.

As they drank and Aislinn chattered away about the games, about Brodie, about anything and everything, Anna couldn't help but steal glances towards Emeric. His tall frame was easy to spot even among the crowd. Her gut twisted as she saw that several women had surrounded him, offering flirty smiles and suggestive glances. Anna quickly drained her goblet and set it down rather harder than she intended on the table.

Aislinn raised an eyebrow. "It seems ye needed that."

Anna glanced over at Emeric. "Yes and I think I need another."

Aislinn laughed and snagged another goblet, handing it to Anna. "All right. So now ye are adequately lubricated I want to know everything. How did ye learn to throw an ax like that?"

Anna groaned inwardly. She wished Emeric would come over here and rescue her but he seemed preoccupied with his fan club. She gritted her teeth. Fine.

"Well," she began. "It was all Richard from Accounts' fault..."