Bridgette’s gaze flew to Lachlan, and his knowing green eyes met hers. He could best her and he knew it. She knew it as well. And blast Rory Mac! He comprehended it for certain, and he also comprehended she could not decline without looking as if she was scared.
Yearning seemed to be Lachlan’s constant companion these days. As he glanced over at Bridgette, whose eyes held a world of misery, the need to soothe her made his hands shake. He fisted them quickly and then flexed them. No one seemed to notice anything unusual except Iain, who narrowed his eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head.
Lachlan turned his gaze away from whatever Iain was trying to tell him and back to the target being set up in the distance. He was glad for a moment to bow his head and prep his bow without anyone seeing his face or reading the indecision there. He could easily best Bridgette, yet he couldn’t. He was more skilled to be certain, but causing her pain and shame by besting her and taking away her chance to hunt the bull, would kill him. Yet, neither did he want her endangering herself by joining the men on the hunt.
If he let her win the contest, he would have to shadow her on the hunt, and it would be torturous to be so near her. And he still had the problem of how to let her win without it appearing obvious. If he was not careful, Rory Mac or one of the other men would see through what he’d done.
He was still contemplating how to accomplish helping her when she swatted at a bee buzzing around her ear, and an idea occurred to him.
As he readied his bow and arrow for the match, he was acutely aware of her beside him. She gracefully raised her bow and lined her body for the shot, and he found himself holding his breath in hopes that she’d have the best one she’d ever had.
He withdrew his arrow and readied his bow as everyone watched. The bee was nowhere in sight, which was ill luck for certain. Yet he would not alter his course. He drew the arrow all the way back as Bridgette did the same. Then Rory Mac gave the call to release, and just before Lachlan complied, he cursed loudly and smacked at the left side of his neck. The arrow released, flew through the air, and lodged into the target a moment after Bridgette’s and to the left of her arrow, which had hit the center perfectly.
“Bridgette won!” Alanna gasped.
Rory Mac groaned.
Bridgette’s eyes rounded wide, and then a glorious grin lit her face and brightened her eyes. Lachlan’s chest tightened at the sight of her joy, which made all the teasing he was going to have to endure worth it.
“How could ye miss that shot?” Rory Mac demanded, coming to stand directly in front of Lachlan, his ruddy brows dipping together in a fierce frown.
Lachlan scrubbed at his neck, hard, to ensure it would be red. “I was stung by a bee! I could nae help it.”
The men around him guffawed, but he didn’t care. Rory Mac glared at him, and Iain gave him a disbelieving look. Rory Mac shook his head. “I’ve seen ye split arrows when ye’ve been shot by one or stabbed with a dagger, and ye mean to say a wee beesting made ye miss?”
Lachlan narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I dunnaemeanto say anything. I’ve said it. And that’s the end of it. I lost. Bridgette won. She may go on the hunt.”
Marion stepped forward and gave Lachlan a long look he did not care for. He adored Iain’s wife, but she was keen, meddlesome, and a good friend of Bridgette’s. The three of those things together made him uneasy.
“Ye should let me see yer beesting,” Marion said sweetly.
“There’s nae a need,” he quickly replied. “It hardly pains me.”
Marion nodded as she moved toward him, an obstinate gleam in her eye. “That may be so, but sometimes people can have strange reactions to stings. I’ll be able to tell if ye’re going to by simply looking at the place where ye were stung.”
“It’s nae troubling me,” he insisted more firmly.
“Let her look at ye,” Iain demanded. “She’ll fret over ye the whole time ye’re gone, and I’m the one who will have to listen to it.”
Marion playfully smacked Iain on the arm as she advanced on Lachlan until she was standing beside him. With no way to deny her without it seeming odd, he lowered his head so she could see his neck. Marion suddenly exclaimed, “This is the worst beesting I’ve ever seen!”
Lachlan jerked his head toward her, and her gaze met his. Laughter swam in her eyes, but when she looked away from him and toward the group, he noted that she made her expression somber. “Bridgette, come see what ye think of this beesting.”
Lachlan glared at Marion. She knew very well he wasn’t stung, so why was she calling Bridgette over? Was she vexed about only just learning the truth about him and Helena? She had not seemed overly annoyed this morning. He’d rose early and sought Iain out telling him about Helena’s questions about the Fairy Flag and Lachlan’s suspicion that part—or all—of the reason she had been ordered to pledge to marry him was to learn the location of the flag and steal it. He’d then told Iain his idea of seeing if Marion could mix a potion that would loosen Helena’s tongue so they may possibly learn something from her, and Iain had agreed it was a good idea. He had even decided they should tell Marion the truth about Helena immediately so she could mix the potion and help keep a watchful eye on Helena.
Marion had seemed surprised but not angry. In truth, she had grinned and exclaimed her relief. Marion had assured him she could fix a potion if she could find the herbs she needed. Once everything had been decided, the three of them had waited in hiding for Helena to appear, and she had not disappointed. The woman was most definitely seeking out the Fairy Flag.
“I’ve been teaching Bridgette some about the healing arts,” Marion said, which pulled him back into his current problem. “We had a lesson not too long ago on stings. I want to see what she has learned.”
He shrugged, trapped by his own deception. Bridgette approached slowly and stopped beside him. She tilted her head, and their eyes met. “I’ll need ye to bend to me,” she said, her voice coming out husky.
Having her so close, knowing her hands would soon be on him, sent jolts of lust through his body. Every muscle hardened, and his blood hummed. Behind Bridgette, the men were moving away as Iain ordered them to ready for the hunt. Lachlan bent his head toward her, glad his face would be hidden. When her warm fingertips grazed his neck, his breath released in a harsh exhalation, and a shudder coursed through him. The subtle intake of her breath whispered in his ears, and her fingertips curled harder against his skin as she moved them over his neck in search of a wound that was not there.
“I dunnae see the sting,” Bridgette murmured, her fingers gliding over the skin of his neck in long, torturous strokes.
“It’s right there,” Marion said, giving his neck a hard poke. “See where the stinger went in?” She sounded so sincere, but Lachlan knew it was a pretense. She was a gifted healer, and he didn’t have a doubt that she knew he’d lied about being stung, but that did not mean she knew why he had lied.
Bridgette leaned closer to him, her heat teasing him and her scent tantalizing him. Her soft, full breasts brushed his arm, and he had to cough to cover the groan of wanting that escaped him. Her fingers rubbed back and forth, then paused suddenly. She inhaled sharply, and he jerked his head up in time to see a knowing look pass between her and Marion.
