The Laird's Captive Wife(49)

However, Iain remained where he was, apparently seeing no reason to leave the present company. Around them the exercise continued, drawing his attention that way. He must have made some quip for she saw his companions laugh. The conversation resumed. Ashlynn bit her lip and turned away. The message was clear enough. He was busy and she was unwanted here. She should go.

‘The wrestling bouts are fun to watch are they not, my lady?’ said a voice beside her.

Ashlynn started and, looking round, recognised Robbie. For a moment she felt awkward for it was he whom she had given the slip when she ran away, but his expression now was genial. If he bore her a grudge it wasn’t apparent. From the question she realised that she must have been staring at the wrestlers, though in truth had seen nothing of them.

‘Er, yes,’ she said. ‘Who do you think will win?’

‘Fergus,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘There isn’t a man in Glengarron who can match him for strength or skill.’

Looking at the individual in question Ashlynn could see the truth of that remark. Fergus was massively muscled and looked to be roughly the size of a barn door, but for all that he was fast and agile.

She nodded. ‘I can well believe it.’

‘I’m just thankful he fights on our side.’

Ashlynn took the point as Fergus raised a big and brawny opponent over his head and tossed him into the banked snow at the edge of the courtyard, much to the rowdy enjoyment of the onlookers.

‘I think I would not like to meet him on a field of battle.’

‘Or in an alley on a dark night,’ returned Robbie with a grin.

‘Heaven forbid.’

They laughed, each visualising the possibility.

‘But then all Glengarron’s men are able fighters, are they not?’ she continued.

‘Aye, my lady, they are. Lord Iain trains them well.’

‘So I see.’ She eyed him with curiosity. ‘Have you ridden with him long?’

‘Going on four years now.’

‘Four years? A long time.’

‘Not so long. There’s many have been with him longer.’

‘A man to inspire loyalty then.’

‘Indeed he is, my lady. He looks after his men and all who depend on him. There’s not a braver laird in the whole border country, or one more cunning.’

‘I can believe that.’

‘You’d be right to, my lady. A man would have to get up very early to catch Iain of Glengarron.’

They lapsed into companionable silence for a while, but the conversation had given Ashlynn plenty to think about. Almost from the first she had recognised in Iain the qualities of strong leadership. It had been evident in the quiet assurance with which he moved among his men and the way in which he spoke to them. He called each one by name. She never heard him raise his voice but his slightest word was obeyed to the letter. Having seen their skill in battle she knew they were a formidable force. If their opinion of their leader was so high then that respect had been earned. Such men did not give their loyalty or their regard easily.

Robbie eyed her curiously. ‘I’ve heard it said you’re no so bad with a sword yourself, my lady.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Dougal. He said that when you and Black Iain were attacked by robbers you killed six of them single handed.’

She gave a gurgle of incredulous laughter. ‘Dougal overrates my skill. It was only two and I took them by surprise.’

Robbie grinned. ‘I wish I’d been there to see it all the same.’

Across the courtyard Iain was apparently still engaged in easy conversation. However, he was also keenly aware of the scene opposite. It was too far to catch the words but he heard the pair laugh. His jaw tightened. When she was with him Ashlynn rarely laughed yet somehow, in mere minutes, Robbie had overcome her reserve, God rot him! Iain had always acknowledged his wife to be a pretty woman, but since the bruises had faded from her face it had become obvious that she was more than just pretty. When she appeared in the hall his men followed her with their eyes. Hitherto she had never given the least sign that she was aware of the attention but now she seemed to find pleasure in Robbie’s company, apparently hanging on every word. Moreover, the young man was near Ashlynn’s age and well favoured withal. Even her clothing blended with his, damn it. In this throng she might, to the casual eye, have passed for a local lass—a local lass or a servant. His brows drew together.

‘What does the lady here? This is no fit place for a woman to be.’

The voice had come from the fringes of the group around Iain but the words were clearly meant to be overheard. They recalled him at once and he turned, giving the speaker a long and level stare. Recognising that look the rest fell into awkward silence.